Movies are a communal ritual.
Even in the age of Netflix, movies are at their core a gathering of different lives, different experiences, different human beings – all united by a shared love and need for stories.
Perhaps no community of movie lovers share a deeper bond with films than film students. After all, we don’t just watch movies – we live them, or try to. It’d be wrong to say it’s “making a living” because, lets face it, chances are likely most of us won’t make a dime from films – making them, or critiquing them. No, we choose films not to make a living, but to make a life.
Forgive the self-aggrandizement, but choosing Film Studies is an act of courage (or lunacy), particularly for us Millennials who started film school pre-recession and graduated post-recession. All of us have heard from those we love and trust “Oh, that’s sounds fun…but how are you going to make a living?” While our Engineering peers coasted on “C’s”, and now make six figures, we spent hours in college cooped up in an editing bay, not to make money, but to make something. Something with permanence, meaning, or simply joy.
One person who never questioned us was Professor Joseph Kestner, PhD – Founding Chair of the Film Studies Department at the University of Tulsa.
He didn’t question us – he inspired us.
Prof. Kestner was an English professor by training, and one of the nation’s foremost academic authorities on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Despite this, he believed that movies are our greatest storytelling medium. And he imbued that passion, that faith, in film into his students. His conviction in film, and his commitment to his film students, gave us courage. Yes, the road would be long and unwinding. Yes, the path would be dark and untrodden. But dammit, we didn’t get into film because it would be easy. We got into it because we love to tell stories.
Prof. Kestner passed away on Monday, August 24. While we will no longer hear his booming voice (seriously, that dude had some pipes on him), his words of encouragement will always be in the back of our minds anytime we pick up a camera, sit at a keyboard, or talk behind a mic.
The best way to remember a man who loved movies is to remember the movies he loved. These are the words of his students, and the films that most remind us of our friend and mentor, Professor Joseph Kestner.
Singin’ In The Rain – Hunter Cates
Joseph Kestner had the voice of God, or at least Charlton Heston. That said, he couldn’t sing – the man was tone deaf even when he was talking. He whispered louder than most men shout, a delightful quirk most will remember about him more than anything. It was part of his charm.
Ironic then that the film I’d most like to remember him by is the most musical of all musicals, Singin’ In The Rain. The first time I saw Singin’ In The Rain was in high school, and while I admired its obvious skill and technique, it didn’t give me the feels. I watched it by myself, in my room, late one evening, and was glad it was over, not because it wasn’t enjoyable, but because now I could scratch another entry off my “Movies To See” list.
That’s not the point of a movie like Singin’ In The Rain. This is not a movie to obligatorily watch by yourself, but to joyfully watch with others.
Prof. Kestner’s academic interpretation of Singin’ In The Rain wasn’t especially convincing – hell, I can’t even remember what he said about it. But that’s not the point. Prof. Kestner knew this is not a movie to dissect like a fetal pig – it’s a movie to watch, laugh at, delight in, and love with others. As Founder of the program, Prof. Kestner could’ve been predictable, and picked a film by some obscure director just to show off how vast his film repertoire was. Prof. Kestner was too interesting to be so boring and pompous. No, instead he picked a capital “m” MOVIE whose goal was not to force you to ponder the weight of the world, but to invite you to feel what a wonderful place life can be. And boy howdy, did I get the feels this time.
In the literal sense, I saw Singin’ In The Rain for the second time in Prof. Kestner’s class. But in a more profound way, in Prof. Kestner’s class I saw it for the very first time.
Peeping Tom – Chris Galegar
I imagine my account of meeting Dr. Kestner for the first time is not at all unique. I was a high school student scheduled to tour The University of Tulsa’s Film Studies Department, and Dr. Joseph Kestner was to be my guide. He greeted me with a handshake powered by that signature energy he seemed to have for all things. We entered a room no larger than a modest supply closet. I sat down, and he delicately closed the door while vociferously announcing, “The faculty prefers that I shut this. I tend to be a little loud.” It was perhaps the only time I ever heard the professor underplay anything.
Dr. Kestner brought a passion and vitality to his lectures that was initially a bit terrifying, but quickly became the reason to enroll in his courses time and time again – the reason to rearrange your block classes just to find an excuse to squeeze in another of his genre theory offerings. In my final semester at TU he taught a Film Noir class that I desperately wanted to take, but all requirements that would justify adding it to my schedule were already completed. I enrolled anyway.
He introduced me to so many films that have shaped or even reshaped the way I viewed cinema. More than once he convinced me to reassess films and filmmakers I had completely written off. As an entering freshman I would have proudly told you that Taxi Driver was outdated and severely overrated. By graduation I’d written no fewer than four papers on the film. That was the power of Dr. K’s sharp analytical prowess and his ability to mold (and even change) minds. There is probably no film that has had a more lasting transformative effect on me than Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom.
In high school a coworker, the same coworker who failed to impress me with Taxi Driver actually, loaned a film to me with the preface that it was “one of the most beautifully shot movies of all time”. I took that as a challenge and returned Michael Powell and Emmerich Pressburger’s The Black Narcissus, declaring something to the effect of “The lighting was awful. It just looked old. The acting was over-the-top and the story was boring.” Had I just watched the DVD extras beforehand I would have know it was going to be bad. That little excitable guy who directed Taxi Driver was all over the special features! I had consumed and vanquished, to the best of my knowledge, the best these Powell and Pressburger dudes had to offer. There was obviously need to seek out any of their numerous other pictures.
Roughly four years later Professor Kestner screened Peeping Tom in his Horror class, and I was totally enamored. (SIDEBAR: This is a film entirely consumed with the male gaze. They don’t get much more Kestnerian than that!) It was beautifully shot in vibrant Eastmancolor, and that rich, bright pallet stood in stark contrast to the story which constantly teetered on the edge of perversion. It was a brilliantly playful piece of juxtaposition.
Had I viewed Peeping Tom as a teenager and of my own accord, or worse – at the insistence of someone else, I probably would have thrown the same superficial complaints at it that I used to critique Narcissus. And if I’m being totally honest, the cinematography of The Black Narcissus is far more breathtaking than Peeping Tom! With Kestner’s guidance and enthusiasm (guidance and enthusiasm that had been going strong for several years by that time) I learned to completely reevaluate my stance on that Powell guy, and his old partner too.
It turns out they made some pretty damn good movies together, movies I would almost certainly continue to belittle sight unseen if it weren’t for that Monday evening in Dr. Joseph Kestner’s Horror class.
The Exorcist – Alex Allen
One of my favorite films is William Friedkins’s classic, The Exorcist, and I probably never would have seen it if it weren’t for Dr. Kestner. It was my sophomore year at TU and I had signed up for a Film Theory class on the Horror genre with professor Kestner, one of those late Monday night classes in the old Chapman lecture hall.
At the time I wasn’t a big fan of horror films, I thought they were lowbrow and silly, often lacking the depth or intelligence of other genres. However, I needed the credit and it worked well for my schedule, so I signed up. I knew Dr. Kestner’s trademark enthusiasm for film in general from his Film History and Film Theory classes, but this class brought that to a new level. I can remember the first night and his sheer exuberance when discussing the subject. He loved horror films, and his joy and passion was (and still is) infectious.
Throughout the class we watched a variety of horror films, from the classic (Frankenstein, King Kong) to lesser-known gems that I never would have discovered without his guidance (Peeping Tom, Spoorloos). Some of the films I liked more than others and several that he introduced to me I adored. For the final paper in the class, we had to watch The Exorcist. We had to watch it on our own time, outside of class – I remember renting the film from the local Blockbuster. I went into my room, turned the lights off and started the film. After the brooding and eerie prologue I turned the lights back on – it was too intense. The atmosphere of the film is oppressive and bleak, and every second has a palpable feeling of tension. By the end of the film I was completely exhausted and yet exhilarated. The film was horrifying and traumatizing, and yet somehow beautiful and poetic. It was my favorite film of the class, and it remains one of my favorite films of all time.
But it wasn’t necessarily the specific films that he showed that created the transformation in me. It was his enthusiasm and respect for the art form that altered my attitude. His lectures were always spirited, engaging, and they challenged me to look at horror films through new perspectives. It was not the vapid and silly genre I had written it off to be. Even a film as seemingly simple as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was a complex piece of art, worthy of analysis and interpretation. Thanks to this class, I fell in love with horror films and continue to watch and adore them to this day.
I credit Dr. Kestner with my passion and respect for the horror genre, something I may never have learned without his own enthusiasm for the subject. That was my favorite thing about a Kestner class – no matter your personal opinion on any given film or genre, Kestner’s respect of cinema was infectious, his love of the art contagious. He passed on the love of horror cinema to me and I’m sure countless other film students, and for that I owe him all my gratitude.
Peeping Tom – Drew Allen
I was never much for horror films. I’m a baby and I don’t like jump scares at all. I always loved the concept of genre, the stories and themes, but I just hate the thought of waiting to be scared. However, during my senior year at the University of Tulsa, I took a film classes centered around horror films. The reason? Dr. Joseph Kestner was teaching it.
What made it better was he choose an astounding list of films, a number of which I’d never seen and would have never watched had I not been forced to do so in his class. He made me excited to view them all. Even a film like Hostel, which I had entirely written off as something I’d never see and certainly never like, he had a compelling argument for. But the film that stuck with me the most was PeepingTom.
I had never heard of it and I assume I never would have had it not been for Dr. Kestner. Released in 1960 and considered highly controversial for the time, I was glued to my seat in the classroom. This could be horror? I think I might have even known these sort of films existed, I just never wanted to watch them. I had always associated horror with prolonged silence followed by extremely loud noises that made me fly out of my chair. Peeping Tom, however, with its voyeuristic themes and topics relatable to several Hitchcock films, I fell in love with. It’s a crime that I’ve only ever seen it the one time, but the fact that I remember the scenes so vividly is a testament to the staying power it has on me.
A calm, slow burning film, full of tension and fear, and I enjoyed every second of it. Without Dr. Kestner, I’d probably still be oblivious to the existence of this classic and several others from that class. Without Dr. Kestner, my passion for film and it’s many complexities might not shine as brightly. Without Dr. Kestner, I’d never be able to tell people what an excellent film Peeping Tom really is, or that I learned to enjoy horror films a tiny bit more. Without Dr. Kestner, I just wouldn’t be the same. For that, I am forever grateful.
Rear Window – Claire Edwards
When I first met him, Dr. Kestner scared the hell out of me. It was my first class my freshman year at the University of Tulsa, and, having no concept of where Chapman Hall actually WAS on campus, I was ten minutes late. When I shuffled sheepishly in through the doors, a booming voice caught me unawares: “Yeah, just grab a hand out on the table!” Who was this pompadour-ed behemoth of a man that stood at the front of the class, shouting my shame? How had I already kindled such ire that I deserved to be the object of so much unwanted attention? AND WHY THE HELL WAS HE YELLING AT ME? I was naught but a fragile, disoriented freshman, awash in a sea of anomie and unbelonging. Truly, there was no creature so wretched as me.
However, as I took my seat and the lecture proceeded, I realized I had been all wrong in my assumptions. Because, as anyone who’s ever been a student of Dr. Kestner’s can attest, the man has no “inside voice.” He has one volume—booming, bombastic, unapologetic. So big it fills up whatever room he’s in. I started my college career majoring in English, but soon added a major in film following my first semester in Dr. Kestner’s class. I could say the film that promptedthis was Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window, but, really, it would be more accurate to say that it was Dr. Kestner’s critical reading of it that drew me into the film world.
I had never heard of the “Male Gaze” theory before, and what a treat it was when Dr. Kestner introduced it to us! A theory that manages to synthesize my love of critical analysis AND my humorless, cold-hearted feminism?! Sign this girl up! Strange as it may seem, this is the first time I can remember really making a connection between gender politics and film, between how women are portrayed in art and how that translates to how they’re treated in real life. How can a woman ever be treated as a complete, whole human being if she is only ever portrayed as an object of desire or as some fetishized damsel in distress? As time went on, the “Male Gaze” plagued me. I found the asymmetry between women in front of and women behind the camera disconcerting. I realized, how better to eradicate this asymmetry than by working behind the camera myself?
Academics have a tendency to intellectualize or rationalize loss, but it still leaves us wanting. It leaves a hollowed out core, a conspicuous void in the narrative that can’t be filled by reason or film theory or even Alfred Hitchcock. But maybe it can be filled with some human element: a towering pompadour, a class full of eager students, a voice so big it fills up a room. So big it terrifies the uninitiated. So big it contains the howling passion of a life well-lived. It’s an animal thrashing against the cage of convention and polite society, hungry to be heard.
The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari – Angie Ford
As a proper film history professor, Dr. Kestner presented us with some of the first films ever made. While I understood the need to watch these as well as the educational value, I was a new film student itching to create my own work, so I often fell asleep while we watched films. Citizen Kane is a film I will always associate with Dr Kestner and my film studies classes, but it’s the quintessential film student film, so it’s not that special. One film, however, will always stand out in my mind and will always make me think of Dr K- The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. This film caught my attention, and it truly inspired me. I think it had a profound impact on my creative future, because it taught me, and really Dr Kestner taught me, to be different. I learned to use visuals to spark emotion and not rely on audio. I learned that film does not need to be literal nor logical. That visual elements alone can impact your audience psychologically. Dr. Kestner taught me that film is powerful.
Withnail and I – Rosie Frihart
One of my favorite films that Dr. Kestner introduced me to is Bruce Robinson’s Withnail and I, a film he showed in a class my freshman year. It’s very funny, strangely compelling for a film with seemingly no tension, and I can honestly say I never would have seen it without Dr. Kestner’s intervention. I’ll never forget what he told us about this film: that a movie can be both funny and serious, both silly and relevant. With that simple idea Dr. Kestner summed up exactly what I wanted to write. The recommendation was both inspiring and validating. Thank you, Dr. Kestner. You will be missed!
Battleship Potemkin – Jacob Graves
I did not like Battleship Potempkin. I can’t even claim that I stayed awake during the screening. It’s a 90-year old silent Russian film about a mutiny on a warship, and that didn’t exactly appeal to a college freshman taking a 3 hour lecture at 6 p.m. There aren’t even any real main characters! Everybody on the ship starts to blend together as they overthrow their captain. I know I signed up for Film History, but I expected Gone With The Wind or Lawrence of Arabia, not whatever this was. So what could make me feel sentimental about it 10 years later?
The first thing you have to understand is that Joseph Kestner was larger than life. He could command a room. With a resounding voice and an iconic wardrobe and hairstyle, Dr. Kestner was the highlight of the film department he headed. The man could make a freshman with no knowledge about classic film gain an appreciation for all the ways that Potempkin is important.
Of course there aren’t any main characters; it’s a Soviet propaganda piece! You dislike that everybody blends together? That was by the filmmaker’s design to promote the virtues of the Marxist school of thought. See the cold boots of Tsarist soldiers on the concrete of the classic “Odessa Steps?” The soldiers are so ruthless to women and children that it scarcely matters that the event itself was written for the film. Dr. Kestner showed me how to appreciate a film that I never would have watched on my own. He taught us all how to see the design of a scene, understand the art of a film, and figure out the intention of a filmmaker. Without his guidance, I would feel cheap calling myself a “film buff”.
So when I watch Brazil or The Untouchables, and I shoot of a quick text to Chris about another homage to the “Odessa Steps” sequence, I’m honestly glad that Dr. Kestner had the courage to schedule a film that a 17 year old couldn’t appreciate. When I comment on a film’s use of typage (Potempkin has some of the best), I know it’s due to Dr. Kestner’s passion for film and his God-given ability to educate. And when I see a character, in a close-up, get shot through one of the lenses of their glasses, I’ll remember the man who opened my eyes to film history.
And I’ll wish I could relive my time in Chapman Lecture Hall, listening to the booming Dr. Joseph Kestner.
Paths of Glory – Caroline Helvey
A film that reminds me of Dr. Kestner is Stanley Kubrick’s Paths of Glory. It was not a film we watched in class. I had known I wanted to write a paper involving Kubrick for my senior project, and Dr. Kestner thought that was a great idea. He helped me shape the direction of the paper and advised me on how to keep it cohesive and thematically sound. One of the films he suggested I write about (amongst four others) was Paths of Glory, of which I was previously unaware. He told me how great it was (in that passionate, ebullient way of his), and even let me know that I could get it for cheap on Amazon! After I watched it and took notes, we discussed at length how it was a perfect fit for the theme of my project. It was encouraging and exciting for me that someone so educated in the world of cinema understood and shared my weird Kubrick obsession, and I’ll never forget how it made me feel when he told me, after reading a rough draft of my paper, that I knew what I was talking about. To a 21-year-old college student, hearing something like that from a beloved professor is like winning the lottery. Our regular meetings were a highlight of my senior year, because it afforded me the opportunity to discuss my area of study with a respected and enthusiastic supporter. Dr. Kestner helped me understand exactly why I loved the films of Stanley Kubrick so much, and I always appreciated that he shared with me this lesser-known but relentlessly powerful film. I have since shared Paths of Glory with others, and every time I do, I always hear Dr. Kestner’s booming voice in that tiny office telling me, “It’s fabulous! It’s just fantastic! You’ll love it!”
The Seventh Seal – James Frazier Jones
The classic film I most identify with Dr. Kestner is Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal, even more so now that I know he was planning a voyage to Sweden to work on a project on the late master director. The Seventh Seal is a picture that so directly confronts mortality, plague, and the manifestations of spiritual suffering that it may overwhelm on first viewing, but the way it executes these weighty tomes of existence, with unparalleled vitality and wit, brings the viewer back time and time again to revisit its narrative. I find myself re-watching annually in order to see which of the film’s many memorable moments reflect back on my current life status. Seal is abundantly rich with thematic imagery and symbolism, which Dr. Kestner boldly and brilliantly illuminated in his lectures. It’s the kind of film you can watch through your entire lifespan and always come away with something new or relevant to your own struggle with the nature of existence and the finite reality of our lives. I am eternally grateful to have come to Bergman’s powerful and varied filmography through Dr. Kestner’s courses. His influence on my taste in cinema is immeasurable.
Sin City – Brian Kane
The movie that I most readily connect to Dr. Kestner in my mind is one that he never even taught me in class. When Sin City came out, I was nearing the end of my freshman year at TU. I remember seeing it and really enjoying it, but Dr. Kestner absolutely loved it. He raved about it in class every Monday night for the rest of the semester. He loved its stylistic boldness. He loved the cast. ”Miiiickey Rooourke! Mickey Rourke was unbelievable! Absolutely incredible!” What really stuck with me was how truly excited he was over what was essentially a popcorn movie. Given the depth of his critical film knowledge, he could have been impossible to impress. He could have looked down his nose at 90% of the material coming out of Hollywood. But he never lost that ability to tap into the true joy of the moviegoing experience. In a time when jaded indifference seems to be part of the twenty-something dress code, it’s comforting to know that with all of his knowledge and experience Joe Kestner could still sit down in a movie theater for two hours and not only be blown away by what he saw, but also be passionate enough to proclaim that joy to a bunch of college students for weeks afterwards. The fact that his enthusiastic optimism extended to the film program at TU and to every student enrolled in it was an invaluable benefit to us all. So when I reflect on the lessons and the films Dr. Kestner taught me I don’t immediately think of the male gaze or montage or the auteur theory. I don’t think of Double Indemnity or Rear Window. I think of passion. I think of awe. I think of joy. Thanks for the lessons, Joe.
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1984-1985) – Kevin Kisling
Dr. Kestner was introduced to me as the head of the department of film, so I simply assumed film was his primary focus and passion. I was quite wrong. As I got to know Dr. Kestner, I learned he had many interests and passions before film, namely Victorian Literature and specifically Sherlock Holmes. He was apart of the Sherlock Holmes club in Tulsa. My final semester at TU, Dr. Kestner was teaching a class on Sherlock Holmes books, tv and films. It was a class I’d never seen offered before so I knew I had to take it, this was my last chance to have Dr. Kestner as my teacher.
Almost, but not every, example of Sherlock Holmes in TV and film was represented in the course, from Benedict Cumberbatch, Robert Downey Jr., Ronald Howard, namely Jeremy Brett, which I believe was Dr. K’s favorite version of the Detective. We watched countless episodes of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1984-1985) tv series, I say countless because I don’t have the syllabus in front of me. I had no real experience with Holmes before this class. It was wonderful being in his classroom while he taught Sherlock Holmes because you could see how much he truly loved the material. It was so very refreshing. So often in life, especially in the teacher-student relationship, you only get a glimpse into the other’s world.. You only know them in a certain context, but when I took his Sherlock Holmes course, it gave me the opportunity to get to know Dr. Kestner outside of the narrow view I had of him. And I am so very thankful for that. Everytime I see the Sherlock Holmes character, I am reminded of Dr. Kestner.
Rear Window – Casey Lowry
The film that first comes to mind when I think of Dr. Kestner is Hitchcock’s Rear Window. Not only is it a time-honored classic that has heavily influenced the cinematic arts, it is such a fun movie to pick apart and analyze until your brain hurts! Kestner loved to discuss symbols, themes, and motifs, and Hitchcock was a master at utilizing these elements in film.
Learning about Rear Window in Kestner’s class was my first in-depth exposure to voyeurism, a concept that has had a huge impact on my life. On the surface, a voyeur may seem creepy—the idea that someone is always watching is unsettling for most people. But in truth, we all play the role of voyeur many times throughout our lives, whether we’re going to see a movie or scrolling through photos on social media. It’s part of our desire for human connection, our desire to share stories with each other. Even reading a book could be considered a form of voyeurism because it allows us to delve into the private lives of other people.
Kestner taught me that nothing is ever simple if you think about it long enough. People, and the stories they tell, are complicated and multifaceted. Kestner’s passion for finding the underlying meaning behind a story was infectious, and I will be forever grateful for the chance to have learned from him. He succeeded wonderfully at encouraging others to appreciate great storytelling, and I hope to do the same in my lifetime.
Adam O’Connor
The first time I met Dr. Kestner, he spit eggs at me. It was at Phil’s Diner on Harvard, 2007, the summer after my Freshman year at the University of Tulsa. I had decided to change my major, and Joe got in contact with me somehow or another and suggested we meet to discuss Film Studies. When I walked into the diner, I knew immediately who he was just based on his voice over the phone. He had such a huge presence, he seemed to fill the whole place up. He excitedly called me over and plopped a big stack of course catalogs and class materials in front me before I’d even sat down. The whole meeting went that way, with him unloading information on me about theory and production and his favorite genres. He had just seen Hostel and loved it. A movie like that wasn’t usually my cup of tea, but his booming, enthusiasm as he broke the film down and wove it into the overall landscape of Horror took me in so completely, I didn’t even mind the flecks of breakfast flying out of his mouth. He was like the perfect combination of Dr. Frankenstein and Frankenstein’s Monster- electrically brilliant, yet kindly curious; a mad scholar and a joyful giant. I left that first meeting not only excited about my new major, but about film itself. It is sad to say goodbye to someone so influential in my life, but Dr. Kestner will not soon be forgotten, at least not as long as there are still so many great movies to watch.
Double Indemnity – Daniel Tarr
My first ever film class was with Prof. Kestner — everyone’s first film class was with Prof. Kestner. His Film History 1001 class would do two things for freshmen: instantly elevate their understanding of film, and help them decide if it was worth it. He convinced me it was worth it. He was the one who laid the groundwork for my basics in film knowledge and introduced me to the essential cinematic classics. It was Prof. Kestner’s way of life to make students reach up to his enthusiasm for cinema. He did it on a public and individual level. I remember sitting in his office, like every hopeful film studies major, and talking out my dumb ideas. He loved every one of them. It was those small affirmations during a pivotal time in my life that helped me decide to stick with film. And he lived up to the professor archetype that every student visualizes. His outlandish style of hair and theatrical presence are the personality traits that everyone remembers first, but no one can forget his ebullient passion for film and the constant encouragement he bestowed to the rotating door of in-coming students.
I think there’s not a film I attribute more to Kestner’s teachings than Double Indemnity. I had to write a couple papers in multiple classes on that film because he always ended up reaching back to it. I begrudged that film because it became a chore after the third viewing. Now I think it’s one of my favorite film classics. It’s the gold standard in noir cinema for a reason. I remember Kestner would read his favorite title from the crop of final essays about Double Indemnity, and each time it had something to do with a Honeysuckle pun. Now that I think about it, I bet every year there was a student who thought up the same honeysuckle pun and every year he read the title out loud with a boisterous guffaw.
We gathered these entries quickly, and surely missed a great number of you in the process. Please forgive us and feel free to share your favorite Dr. Kestner films and memories in the comments.
I didn’t have Dr. Kestner in a lot of classes, by the time I joined the department he was winding down his hands on involvement. He was my first film professor, I’d started by wanting a film minor. This was at a time where I was conflicted, because I was a math major and failing at it. His passion for film was remarkably refreshing. I really remember his Sherlock Holmes class, sitting up in the conference room on the second floor or Zinc Hall. But the lesson that stuck the most for me was the gaze, and how its EVERYWHERE. a final paper in his class was connecting Taxi Driver, Jaws, and Rear Window through the tool of the male gaze. He was definitely the one who taught me most about thematic theory, the art behind the film.
These are remarkable and vivid portraits of an irrepressibly vivid man. I knew Dr. Kestner as a friend, but never had the joy of experiencing one of his classes. Thank you for these wonderful posts.