The Unloved Reality No Pets Part 154
I first caught a glimpse of Tony Buba in cinema as a child, an extra wearing a sombrero in Dawn of the Dead. I remember wanting to be able to see myself reflected on screen, a simple desire that ultimately led to a fascinating journey into the world of cinema, particularly through the eyes of Tony.
Last year, Alex Lei and I made a pilgrimage to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, specifically to Braddock, to speak with Tony. While we discussed the city’s history, our focus quickly turned to Tony’s extraordinary work—some of the finest examples of non-fiction and meta-fiction ever created in the country.
Tony operated as a regional filmmaker, leveraging his unique talents and eccentric background to access some of the world’s most intriguing backrooms. His name alone opened doors, granting him entry into opportunities that shaped his unique cinematic vision.
The story of Tony’s life is a masterclass in cinematic maneuvering. While he was cataloguing the fortunes of Braddock, his brother Pat was simultaneously building connections that would reshape the film industry. Pat worked with Thelma Schoonmaker, landing him editing roles on major productions like Casino and Heat. This network ultimately led to Tony’s final credits, including work for Al Pacino on his project Salomé, where he became the actor’s favorite editor.
Despite this access to Hollywood’s machinery, Tony chose a different path. He consciously opted out of the mainstream, finding that working for his oldest collaborator, George Romero, became less fulfilling as budgets expanded. Tony was not interested in simply creating fantasy; he aimed to apply cinematic empathy to the lives of everyday people, seeking to give Braddock the full weight of cinematic reality.
This commitment to deep, empathetic storytelling, however, came at a cost. It is perhaps doubly poignant that Tony’s sole fiction feature remains virtually unseen and unheralded, even by devoted fans. His tireless efforts to enrich the local narrative were largely invisible to the wider public.
I want to dedicate this work not just to Tony’s relentless effort to help Braddock during its times of need, but to his wonderful wife, Jan, and to Pat, who sadly passed away from cancer in 2018. I also owe a debt to everyone who can’t quit their Pittsburgh accent—the sweetest sound in the world. Finally, I honor those who have traded better fortunes to make a meaningful difference in the world around them.
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