Winnipeg Film Group programmer left no scrap behind

Dave Barber kept nearly everything.

His family, friends and co-workers knew this, but still, when he died in 2021, members of the longtime Winnipeg Film Group programmer’s inner circle were astonished by the variety contained in Barber’s personal archive, which held more than 50 years’ worth of typewritten letters — to Groucho Marx, to George Lucas, to the makers of Hawkins Cheezies — plus hand-designed leaflets, ambulance bills, inane newspaper clippings, Cinematheque programs, nuclear fallout plans, printed-out emails and one-of-a-kind bits of Canadian film arcana.

“Not literally, but sort of literally, a cheese-sandwich recipe was next to the earliest bylaws for the Winnipeg Film Group,” says filmmaker and writer, Clint Enns.

Over the past three years, Enns and Andrew Burke, a professor at the University of Winnipeg, sifted through 47 banker’s boxes filled with Barber’s personal effects — narrowing the trove down to produce a touching, hilarious and all-encompassing portrait of the city’s most devoted evangelist for independent film, clarifying the enduring vision that underlied his pack-rattish tendencies.

Scrapbook: From the Archives of Dave Barber will have its launch Sunday at 7 p.m. at the Dave Barber Cinematheque as the closing event of We’re Still Here, the film group’s festival celebrating its 50th anniversary.

While Barber is best known for his work with the film group — whose creative output and outlook he nurtured during his 40-year tenure there — Scrapbook gives readers and perusers a more well-rounded depiction across its 288 pages, thoughtfully designed by Mark Remoquillo.

Among its 16 chapters are Dave Barber, Filmmaker; Dave Barber, Juvenile Delinquent; and Dave Barber, Poet.

The book opens with a chapter titled Why Did They Hire Me?, which includes Barber’s resumé, circa 1982; his application to the programming job (“I’m extremely interested in the position and I think I could do a good job especially relating to programming and promotion”); and a list titled “Tasks I would like to do in my future job.”

Those tasks included having an effect, making a mark and making a difference. Among the labour he wouldn’t like? Sales/insurance/banking/real estate; dull, repetitive work; and working with assholes.

No matter the section, Barber’s passion for local art is always matched with an earnest brand of chutzpah mixed with inspiring zeal: if nothing was ventured, nothing could be gained.

In one missive, written in 1987, Barber politely makes suggestions to Piers Handling of the Toronto Film Festival, which had yet to go international.

“I have greatly appreciated the fact that the (Canadian Perspective) program reflects films around the country. The reason I’m writing to you is because I feel this part of the festival is weaker than it was a few years ago. My criticism is twofold …” he wrote.

In a letter to Warner Brothers’ promotion department in Burbank, Calif., Barber goes to bat for Winnipeg band Mood Jga Jga, which had signed to the label but in Barber’s estimation, hadn’t received substantial juice for their self-titled record in 1974.

“I’m probably dreaming but maybe you could fly them down to California to do a few shows. God knows you must make enough money off your Black Sabbaths on the label to afford this,” a 20-year-old Barber wrote.

“To summarize, Mood Jga Jga is a damn fine band just starting out. Help them out with some promotion before they get discouraged. OK?”

Burke and Enns also republish influential articles written by Barber for the defunct periodical Winnipeg Magazine, including a 1982 piece that popularized and publicized the fact that Groucho Marx first saw Charlie Chaplin perform during a three-hour layover in Winnipeg in August 1913.

Barber made that conclusion through painstaking research of microfilm, cross-referencing four Marx Brothers publications.

“And each time, Groucho was certain of the location,” wrote Barber, who reached out unsuccessfully for confirmation from the mustachioed comedian. “And after all, how could you forget a name like Winnipeg?”

“Part of this book has the self-deprecating streak that Dave himself would have had,” says Burke, who specializes in film, television and cultural studies. “But then we’re also playing this game where we want people to take Dave seriously, because we think Dave gets undervalued as a writer and a thinker.”

Barber kept nearly everything, and Scrapbook is itself worth holding onto.

ben.waldman@freepress.mb.ca