1,000 MILES FROM NOWHERE

A certain Cleveland daily newspaper once printed a map of the state of Ohio with vast regions of the south and southeast grayed out. “Nothing every happens here,” read the snide caption,” and nothing ever will.” 1,000 MILES FROM NOWHERE is a small gem from that much-neglected territory of a rural America, a moving-picture postcard from an upper Appalachian community where string ties and cowboy hats never go out of style, and even a small village can have an Elvis Presley Boulevard. Razz Schmidt has lived here much of his young life, yet still feels outcast, a stranger, and susceptible to the pull and temperament of the 100 per cent European gypsy blood he says he inherited from his late mother. His closest companions are an accordion – and Jezebel, his lover, a waitress burdened by a pill habit and a reputation for worse. Desperately short on luck, money and friends, the couple can't get along either with or without each other, especially when the town “kingfish” J.J. impatiently calls in Jezebel's $2,000 debt and tries to repossess Razz's borrowed car. Bluesy as a Hank Williams, Sr. lament, solid as an old Ford pickup, Igor Kovacevich's debut feature shows that when it comes to grassroots filmmaking, Ohio truly is the heart of it all.