The other night I was fortunate enough to be one of the early viewers of #Doorman, a pilot that is currently being submitted to several film festivals and therefore can’t be posted online for the public. Otherwise I’d be writing and calling everyone I know, telling you all to go watch it. For now you’ll just have to trust me that it is hilarious, with top-notch writing and acting. Personally, I’m hoping this becomes a television series, motion picture, and action figures. I’d settle for a television series, though.
Doorman and I met the same way everyone meets nowadays: on Twitter, because someone retweeted him and he was hilarious. From there, I got hooked on his wildly entertaining #Doorman blog; unflinching accounts of his experiences as a hotel doorman (concierge, in the early days) that are so outrageous, unbelievable, and hilarious they have to be true.
This may not seem to have very much to do with rushmore beekeepers or folk music, but I think of Doorman as a kind of folk hero, a de facto public servant; answerer of questions, giver of directions, exactor of revenge. Someday someone will write a folk ballad about him. Maybe I’ll do it.
Mysterious and anonymous (at least to anyone who hasn’t seen the pilot), Doorman understands the absolute misery that can lead to great comedy and great art in general. I’m sure he could write great comedy without having a rough job, and even the heroic everyman Doorman wins sometimes.