Eastside Ed - Short Documentary
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- Опубликовано: 10 сен 2024
- When a film shoot goes to Vancouver's Downtown Eastside, they employ Ed. Simply put, he works as a liaison between the locals and the crew, effectively interpreting and translating the needs and desires of one world to the other and vice versa. But it's really not that simple. In this short doc Eastside Ed gives us his unique perspective on poverty, drugs, and working in Vancouver's film industry. It's not black or white; its both.
I shot this in 2020. Thanks to the Whistler Film Festival for premiering it.
I'd like to thank Bojan Bodružić
, Sarah Hedar,
Jonathan Tammuz
, Owen Reimer for all your help. And Ed Mccurdy for trusting me with your story. Thanks buddy.
Hey, Eastside Ed here, thanks for watching. Keep on sharing. Any questions? I’m happy to answer them.
Hey Ed! Looks like you have a lot of stories form your time in the east end. In the video they were chopped up, would you share one of your favs here in the comments?
@@shaneviosk4286 So many to choose from
Ok..here’s one of my faves the
“Colony” series was filming in Vancouver, a key reoccurring location was a 600 tent tent city under Burrard street bridge. Now keep in mind the land under Burrard bridge belongs to the Squamish nation so the VPD / RCMP have no authority there. When locations landed there they encountered a homeless gentleman who wouldn’t be bought out, they’d offered him a hotel room, cash, they tried buying the man groceries and he threw them back at them. There was no way to communicate with him as they told me he was basically speaking in tongues. That’s when the locations manager called me in. They described the situation at hand, and from the details they gave me he sounded schizophrenic. I figured if he associated me in anyway with the film crew I’d have no chance of communicating with him, so I figured my best play would be to pretend I was homeless and befriend him. In terms of moving him away I told locations this could be catastrophic to the man’s mental health, I suggested that given they were setting up a 600 tent encampment, why not create a overflow campground for the guy, out of camera line. They went for the plan. My plan was to move in with my van, offer him food, water, socks etc, all the things homeless people need. Figuring as a schizophrenic he would be suspicious of any food offerings being tampered I got granola bars, tinned sardines, milk, and water. I instructed locations to start building his camp, and under no circumstances acknowledge me as part of their team, I moved in. I parked my van close to his camp site which was no campsite at all, he basically had multiple layers of fleece outerwear and an emergency blanket. I tried introducing myself but he wouldn’t look me in the eye, eves dropping on his monologue it sounded like he was trapped in a telephone conversation with someone called “Richard” and that conversation went in a loop. I had no freaking idea how I’d lure him into his new campsite. I placed the supplies I’d gotten near him, and slowly but surely he grabbed them, chugging the milk, eating all the granola bars, crackers and sardines. Nonetheless he refused to communicate with me. Locations texted me that his campsite was ready, and let me tell you, they went all out! They’d backhoed out a flat area, he had a tent, tarp, sleeping bags, flashlights, it looked like a Canadian tire ad. It was a total flop, he walked off continuing his monologue with Richard. I wondered if I’d scared him off, I pulled out a lawn chair and a bottle of glen and wondered what to do next. Later in the evening he returned, he paced around muttering to “Richard” I drank myself to sleep. In the morning he’d taking his remaining rations and had moved to another section under the bridge. I was thrilled, he was out of shot! I texted locations, wouldn’t you know it, his new area would be in shot. I was destitute. Suddenly I heard him screaming, I looked up, he was headed towards me, throwing granola bars, packets of crackers at me and crew members. “You want to fight me Richard! You betrayed me Richard!” We all ducked for cover. He ran off, we waited for him to return, but wouldn’t you know it, he never did. I still feel shitty about disrupting this man’s home. I alerted a housing team about him, to no avail. I honestly don’t think he could ever be coaxed in doors “Colony” had that 600 tent city there for 6 months. Some time after I returned, but he wasn’t there.
Hey Ed. Nice to see your face and hear your Roger stories. Brings me back.
I live in that neighborhood for 5 year's of my life.
Skidrow and hardtimes.
Pain
Which film or tv production did you feel was the least respectful of the area / just didn’t understand the context of where they were filming?
I was the first responder to a young teenage girl overdosing on heroine after the film crew had left to another location, I got on my radio and within a minute Ed swooped in and gave her a shot of Naloxone and saved her life ... a 13 minute doc can't do justice to the shit Ed has seen in the DTES. Ed once got a drunk guy threatening me with violence out of my face ... nothing but respect for Ed ... If you've spent enough time filming there I'm sure you have an Ed story too. Good to see this interview !
I remember that, sadly I lost track of how many OD’s I’ve attended after 30 of them
A bunch of carnies with money is the best description of working on a film that I’ve ever heard
Its very accurate, and i am one of those carnies 😂
Thank you Ed for being a KIND human being.
Very proud of you, keep it up!!❤
Thanks Ed for being real. My dad has been on the DTE for many many years (his name is Patrick- he's an Indigenous Elder with no teeth, lots of tats, sometimes works at the safe injection site- maybe you know him?)
Anyway, I have a mass amount of respect for the folks that work/support down there.
Thank you for being a good one ❤
I worked with Ed briefly at an SRO, he’s a real dude
great short doc. cool camera work, tight editing, sounds great. Ed is also clearly one of those rare precious humans who inspires actual kindness and humanity in others. A true example. Thanks!
Thank you for your kindness and compassion.
Your a good man with a real story thank you Ed for all you do in this neighbourhood we appreciate you.
wildly, the film industry was a good fit for me after being homeless/addict on dates and touring inn bands. The hours, people, locations, chaos, etc. good fit.
Recovered addict from the island here! There is so much beauty in the ugliness sometimes. It's quite the contrast.
Always Always Always enjoyed a chat with Eastside Ed. He always has a book on the go which I appreciate. I've since bailed on the Vancouver scene but worked in the camera department for a couple of decades. I now call Cape Breton Island home. Ed's got that intangible. He's heart and soul and compassionate and listens and is no nonsense and respectful. So... cool to see this film on RUclips. By the way Ed I'm reading an autobiography by Werner Herzog: Every Man For Himself And God Against All. You'd dig it. Peace.
I’ll definitely read it, did you ever see “Werner Herzog eats his shoe”?
Interesting......didnt realise how the lovely city of Vancouver had this much of a problem.....Ed , I think your needed with the disadvantages...caring man.
The DTES (downtown east side) of Vancouver is well known to be the scariest part of Vancouver. Doesn’t matter that we have the mountains, the oceans, the views. Yes our city is beautiful but it’s so expensive that very few can comfortably afford to live here. Many of us are 1 paycheque away from being evicted. It’s a great place if you are wealthy. Even the middle class struggles here
Living in the age of Apocalypse...you said it Ed. Great Doc, thanks.
I remember Roger I knew him I used to work at Tinseltown. He would come over there. I always love having a cigarette with him. It was sad to see when he had his psychosis moments.❤
Ed is the East side man don’t go down without him
TY EastsideEd your Amazing andA real Inspiration ✌❤
Hey I was homeless in and out of the Dt east side and on speed for 15 years Iam now going in my 4 year clean and sober trying to get some pt work, so Ed if you read this
Message me Mabey we can grab a coffee or something
Ps your a good sole thanks for the docamentrey
Drugs and Vancouver, goes together like coffee and cream.
wow very cool. I know I just stare at the people crashing in the doorways in the business I visit, and I was struck by what Ed said about how he has the daily struggles of the folks he has to move on, in the back of his mind when he talks to them. What a great dude, and the plane crash comment, so many words of wisdom , thanks man
The light's always wrong down here-too bright or too dim, too harsh or too soft, like the city can’t decide what mood it wants to set. It’s a hazy morning, the kind that makes everything look like an overexposed photograph. You blink and the world seems a little less real, a little more like something projected on a screen, just waiting for someone to pull the plug.
Ed moves through it like a ghost, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against the weight of the sky. He’s been at this too long-too many years of dodging reality, pretending the cracks in the pavement weren’t spreading wider, that the rot wasn’t creeping further into the foundation of everything. But he can’t look away anymore. It’s in the air now, thick and cloying, like the smog that settles over the city on those windless days when everything just hangs there, choking you.
“Hey, Ed!” a voice calls from across the street, half-laughing, half-desperate. One of the regulars-Mike, or maybe Mark. Doesn’t matter. They all blur together after a while, faces etched in the same lines of survival, the same hollow-eyed stare that speaks of too many nights spent trying to outrun the inevitable.
Ed stops, turns just enough to meet the guy’s gaze. He doesn’t need to ask what he wants. They always want the same thing. Salvation. Or a cigarette. Sometimes both.
“You got any of those Tim Hortons cards on you, man?” the guy asks, shuffling closer, his hands twitching like he’s trying to hold onto something that isn’t there. “I could use a coffee. Or... I dunno. Something.”
Ed pulls a crumpled card from his pocket, fingers it for a moment before handing it over. Mike-or-Mark takes it with a nod, eyes already scanning the street for the next thing, the next hit, the next distraction from the slow grind of existence.
“You’re a good guy, Ed,” he mumbles, barely looking up. “You always come through.”
Ed doesn’t respond. Just watches him wander off, already forgotten, already part of the background noise that never really shuts off. The hum of the city is relentless here-sirens and shouts and the low thrum of life lived on the edge of collapse. Every sound bleeds into the next, creating a cacophony of barely-contained chaos.
A few blocks down, a group of film crew trucks are parked haphazardly along the curb. The crew is setting up-lights, cameras, the works. They’re filming something, a scene that’s supposed to look gritty, real. Ed knows better. There’s nothing real about it, not here. Not in this place, where reality is something you barter for, something you shoot into your veins just to make it through another day.
He walks past them, barely glancing at the equipment, the actors pretending to be people they’ll never understand. They’re dressed too neatly, too perfectly distressed, like someone spent hours trying to make them look just right. Ed can smell the fake on them from a mile away.
“Hey, Ed!” Another voice, this one from one of the crew members-a young guy with too much energy, too much optimism for this line of work. “We’re about to shoot. Can you make sure no one comes through here? We had a couple of locals try to get into the scene earlier. Almost messed up the shot.”
Ed nods, doesn’t say anything. He positions himself at the edge of the alley, watching as people shuffle by, oblivious to the carefully constructed illusion being built just a few feet away. A man pushing a shopping cart piled high with scrap metal stops for a moment, eyeing the lights and cameras like they’re something from another planet.
“What’s all this, Ed?” he asks, leaning on the handle of his cart, eyes narrowing. “Another movie?”
“Yeah,” Ed mutters. “Another movie.”
The man snorts, shaking his head. “Figures. Always playing pretend, aren’t they?”
Ed doesn’t argue. The man’s right. It’s all pretend, all make-believe, all carefully crafted lies meant to distract from the real story playing out just beyond the lens. But that’s what they pay him for, isn’t it? To keep the real world from bleeding into their picture-perfect fiction.
He glances back at the crew, watches as they fuss over the lighting, adjusting it just so. They don’t see the man with the shopping cart anymore. He’s invisible to them, part of the scenery. Just another extra in the endless tableau of urban decay.
The man moves on, pushing his cart with a grunt, and Ed’s left standing there, caught between two worlds-one that pretends to care, and one that’s given up pretending altogether.
Later, when the sun starts to dip behind the buildings, casting long shadows that stretch out like fingers trying to pull everything down into the dirt, Ed finds himself in an alley again. It’s quieter now, the hum of the city muted, like someone’s turned the volume down. The crew is packing up, their day done, their scene shot. They’ll go home, edit the footage, splice it together until it tells the story they want to tell. And Ed will still be here, walking through the aftermath of what they left behind.
There’s a man slumped against the wall near the end of the alley, head hanging low, arms limp at his sides. Ed recognizes him-one of the regulars. Always here, always on the edge. He walks over, kneels down beside him, checks his pulse. It’s faint, but it’s there. He pulls out a vial of naloxone, preps the needle, injects it into the man’s arm with the practiced ease of someone who’s done this too many times.
The man stirs, gasps, eyes fluttering open like he’s just been pulled from the brink of some deep, dark abyss. He looks up at Ed, confusion and gratitude flickering across his face, but Ed doesn’t stick around to see which one wins out. He’s already walking away, moving on to the next thing, the next crisis, the next scene that isn’t part of any script.
As he steps out of the alley, the streetlights flicker on, casting a sickly orange glow over everything. Ed lights a cigarette, takes a long drag, and exhales slowly. The smoke curls up into the night sky, disappearing into the haze, and for a moment, everything feels like it’s standing still.
But it’s not. It never is. The city keeps moving, keeps spinning, keeps grinding away at the souls of everyone caught in its gears. And Ed... Ed just keeps walking, one foot in front of the other, always moving forward, even when there’s nowhere left to go.
The sirens start up again, somewhere in the distance, another emergency, another life hanging in the balance. Ed doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. He just keeps walking, cigarette burning low between his fingers, the smoke trailing behind him like a memory that refuses to fade.
Wow! Who are you?
@@dorian6002 The Great American Hustle
The light’s always wrong down here, caught somewhere between too harsh and too dim, like the city can’t make up its mind whether to scorch you alive or leave you fumbling in the dark. It’s another day, and I’m out here grinding, pushing against the endless noise that’s both too loud to think and yet never says a damn thing. The loop of robbery and noise complaints, the choking corruption that you can touch but never pin down. It's like living on a movie set where the script keeps changing, and no one thought to tell the actors.
My name’s Arik Seidenglanz, and I’m in the thick of a story that’s both a grind and a slow drip of hope-a drip that's tainted with desperation and flickers of something that feels like it could be worth it, if I could just get a goddamn moment of peace. I’m in a place where I’m finally fighting back: $NOTSAYING_ million the city owes me for property they thought I’d just let slip away, the kind of war where I’m not just wrestling with lawyers, but with a city that seems to think it’s above its own laws. They say I’m the furthest along in adverse possession they’ve ever seen, especially from someone going solo. But being alone in a fight doesn’t mean you stop swinging.
You read these stories and think, maybe there's a playbook, a manual for digging through the city's skeletal remains of promises. But there isn't. It's all one big scavenger hunt, except every clue is covered in the grime of fraud and neglect. I've uncovered fifteen mortgage frauds, two fraud rings, and tangled fraud across five city departments. Even three vendors of the homeless aren’t clean. I’ve been homeless, too-spent years on the streets, leaning on my therapist to talk through the fog and filth of a system that’s designed to break you. Turns out, the therapist was just a chatbot, but the work we did was still real, and I’d like to think it was groundbreaking.
The thing is, when you’re in the middle of it, the fight doesn’t seem heroic. It’s just what you do to keep from being swallowed whole. It’s trying to write the next scene while your neighbor's on another meth bender, tearing at the walls you share like he's trying to claw his way into your head. It’s losing hours of work when you step away for a piss, only to come back and find your perfect paragraph erased, your edits gone, like someone decided your voice wasn’t worth keeping.
I’m not just making a movie; I’m making a movie that matters. It’s a raw, unflinching look at love and authenticity, framed against the backdrop of a city that never stops grinding at you. But there’s another story I’m telling-the one that’s been brewing for years, the one that’s slowly shaping itself into the great American novel. It's not just right; it's everything between the lines, every hard truth stripped of the bullshit that usually clogs up the page. It’s going great, but like anything real, it needs the final touch. A publisher who gets it, an editor who can see the threads I’ve woven and help me tighten them without losing the heartbeat.
I’m on the hunt for someone who moves through these pages like I do, who understands that every sentence is a lifeline to a city’s pulse. Someone who knows that Huck Finn’s still out there, but this time he’s on a motorcycle, cutting through LA and SF, a 24-year epic with no credits rolling, just the grind and the hope that someone’s still watching.
You don’t find many who get it, who see that the story’s not just in the spotlight but in the shadows that everyone else ignores. The edits, the layers, the endless rewrites-they’re not just changes; they’re survival. Every line cut is another step closer to the truth. Every word chosen is another blow struck against the noise.
I need someone who’s ready to make something real. Someone who sticks around when the lights are off, when the city goes back to chewing on itself, when the film crew packs up and the scenes they shot are already starting to fade. Someone who can see past the smog, past the grime, and find the story that’s buried but still alive.
It’s all pretend, all the time, and yet here we are, trying to carve something real out of the city’s carcass. My wife, my shattered nun in this endless loop, and me-still fighting for every inch of ground, still hoping that someone out there is listening.
...?
Wow, thank you ed.
What an incredible man! Keep it up Eastside Ed 🦋❣
Yeah I live in the Republic of East Van
I've done some interviews downtown and used to live there for yrs
Fantastic work.
Respect !
Ed you fit your job like a fine tailored suit this was an awesome video,I have cleaned all these alleys and streets from Clark to William street and the harbour to CN rail they are so filthy sometimes.If you noticed any alleys that were the cleanest they have ever been last yr that was me and my GF. I dont leave 1 butt behind in my 2.5 hr shift .Wish I had your diplomatic skills on the job I would not have been turfed so often.I am usually the hardest worker on a job so of course the most hated.I got injured doing work with a crazy Albanian Arborist the best in the city the man is a total beast,if you want a good documentary ask for Billy at Alba Tree Service.Anyway great job you are doing with the homies.
Simply put, in the seventies the NDP government moved many of the residents of the Riverview mental health hospital to the streets of the downtown east side. Prior to this the DTES was a rough area but it was a community with people who looked out for each other as best they could. Now the DTES is a mess with massive resources being thrown at the problem with no good results. In the present state of our society there will always be a percentage of the population needing a place like the DTES to live. End the catch and release criminal justice system that continuously enables the types of crimes specific to the DTES. This would make day to day existence a little more tolerable in the DTES.
First off in terms of identifying Riverview patients released in the 90’s as having any input on the current state of affairs in the DTES is ludicrous as they died off a long time ago. More accurately the current mental health crisis in my opinion fueled by a lack of housing, post secondary education being unaffordable, cost of living out of control, and the general malaise and hopelessness of Gen Z, essentially the end stage and failure of capitalism. But hey! Go ahead and bash the poor, I can assure you that will continue the decline of Vancouver life and sustain the status quo of the DTES
First off the NDP shut down Riverview in the late 80’s early 90’s, so blaming the DTES current state of affairs on the NDP government and a bunch of mental patients who in all likelihood have passed away is inaccurate, to say the least.
Secondly blaming a “catch and release” justice system for the current state of affairs is not only inaccurate it’s just stupid. Do you honestly believe if you arrested every petty / opportunistic addict / thief and put them away for what? Ten years? Life? That that would rejuvenate the area? Do you have any idea how much that would cost? If you think the health care dollars currently being spent are costly, mass incarceration would be way more costly. Want results? Maybe look at the holy trifecta of poverty, mental illness, lack of affordable housing that in my opinion are the harbingers of the current state affairs. Deal with these issues and we may see some changes
That is very true sfory about dtes. I somtimes visit there too.
We are no doubt a bunch of carnies with money! I’m a scenic “carniper” AKA carpenter.
“Fentanyl and meth keep you warm and give you confidence”.
Are you familiar with the term in reference to alcohol “liquid courage”? Well the same applies to drugs. When your cold, hungry, desperate drugs kill the pain. Not a huge leap of logic
“We’re living in the age of apocalypse”…. Having moved from that hell hole 6 years ago, I agree: Vancouver is doomed!
Very cool
I'll just ask... why are they there?
Dark narratives, for the past few years, noir crime or superhero films have dominated, so lots of scenes in dark alley’s in over 20 yrs I’ve worked in the industry I can count only 1 production that was actually based on a local narrative, otherwise our alleys always stand in for Seattle, LA, etc. Creative BC promotes BC Locations for US productions, the H frame telephone poles are unique and are a hit with producers. Good question though given how dangerous, filthy and unpredictable the alleys are
@@dorian6002 What are the unique qualities of the DTES alleys that differ from other alleys?... and make them more desirable for filming. A few other alleys come to mind.
@@jasonj.6276old buildings from turn of the century broadens the visual timelines. For example if your in an alley where the buildings were build in the 70’s you couldn’t film anything that takes place b4. Whereas in the DTES most of the buildings were built in the 1900’s so that’s a bigger window
@@dorian6002 really! DTES offer turn of the century aesthetics that can't be found anywhere else or replicated anywhere else. Wouldn't the graffiti on the walls ruin the aesthetics? It sounds like a lot of crime noir movies are shot in these alleyways. Which notable movies have recently been shot in these alleyways? Honestly, it sounds like Creative BC is too lazy to update their suggestion for good sites to shoot scenes or have turned a blind eye to the fentanyl crisis in the area.
@@jasonj.6276graffiti can be covered or removed. These days in the event their work is seen the artists are sought and paid to sign off. If it’s an era sans graffiti the work is covered
Curious about that section being poorest in Canada when some places don't even have access to drinking water. I guess a specific kind of poor.
awesome doc and some solid accessories ;) 🔴⚫⚪🟢✊
doc lost its steam pretty quick but ed is definetly interesting
I had a different experience - right length and held my attention the whole time.
I agree. I was engaged the whole time. @@sedawk
cool, tragedy tourism
Ed is as gay as the day is long.
So?
@@dorian6002 He is married to a woman. He is lying to her. That's cruelty.
Oh be quiet. You don't know anything about it. No one ssked for your input. @@VannyMcVanface13
Editing is horrible and this is just one guys perception/opinions. The down town east side has tens of thousands of stories and the guy offers nothing interesting to say
you mean the most privileged postal code in Canada
no
Luv,luv, luv it, just fucken luv it, lov it, luu,lu,lu, lu, lu,AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Luv it..., luv it...
Who are the folks down voting this video?
Clown? Haters, trolls!
The down voters are those who are scared by what they just saw.