I’m “biast” (con): nothing
(what is this about? see my critic’s minifesto)
So, typewriter nerds are a thing, and the gorgeous documentary California Typewriter is here to introduce you to some of them. Tom Hanks (an actor of some repute) has collected hundreds of vintage machines, the virtues of which he will charmingly extol for us, and promises that he will send you a typewritten note if he really likes you. Herb Permillion runs a family-owned labor-of-love repair shop in Berkeley (also called California Typewriter) and “dream[s] that people are gonna come back to typewriters.” Martin Howard from Ontario is an ardent devotee of 19th-century typewriters, and shows off for us their steampunkish glamour. The Boston Typewriter Orchestra is exactly what it sounds like. Artist Jeremy Mayer lovingly disassembles typewriters and uses the parts to make unexpectedly organic-seeming robot-esque sculptures.
I could have watched all these people, and the others who appear here, geek out about typewriters for at least a few more hours: with this, his documentary debut, filmmaker Doug Nichol spins a winsome spell of romance and nostalgia and adorably dorky passion. This is not a portrait of people with an odd hobby: it is a hymn to a machine that revolutionized communication, to its mechanical beauty, to its power in a fast-paced world to slow down one’s thinking and to leave a trail of evidence to the creative process in a way that a word processor cannot. Playwright Sam Shepard (in what may be his last onscreen appearance) captures the robust physicality of and the deliberate forethought required in using a typewriter when he likens feeding one paper to saddling a horse.
There may be sentimentality at work here, but never Ludditism: musician John Mayer (apparently no relation to the sculptor), after explaining why he prefers typewritten lyrics to word-processed ones, ends his comments just before his smartphone calls for his attention. It was a smart choice on Nichol’s part to not just have cut away once Mayer was done speaking: it becomes an acknowledgement of how clinging to an outmoded bit of technology, not matter how agreeable, is a way to negotiate the rapid pace of change, to put the brakes on just a little. (I think it’s safe to say that everyone with a significant presence in this film is old enough to have learned to type on typewriters, before personal computers became ubiquitous.) And it also seems like a nod to this inevitability: there will be nostalgic nerds a hundred years from now who insist upon using slow, dumb early-21st-century Samsung Galaxys and Apple iPhones for their creative rumination rather than that newfangled BrainPlug, which simply isn’t as fun or as sensual as the old toys are.