The Life and Times of Greg Mansur
By PETER HUTCHESON
After spending thirty minutes unraveling the story of his childhood with cloudy nostalgia, Professor Mansur reaches for his last sip of coffee. “Next question” he insists, with a slightly homogenized Texas-Boston accent, as he throws the empty coffee cup in the trash.
Although a child of Boston, Greg Mansur has been teaching for the FTDM (Film-Television-Digital Media) department at Texas Christian University in Fort Worth for the past ten years. As a man who has worked in almost every corner of the country—from Massachusetts, to Oregon, to San Francisco—and having an ex-wife to show for each, the film professor finally seems to be settled in Texas. “I love Texas” he admits softly with an amusing disbelief. I could tell he never thought those words would come out of his mouth.
Popular among film students who know him as “Greg”, this over-the-hill kid from Boston is still just that—a kid. His ageless passion for life shines through in his approach to teaching. Walking into his Friday afternoon cinematography lab, it could be difficult to distinguish him from his own students. That is, until you catch sight of his thin-framed glasses, perched on a slightly worn face, hidden by a veil of long, graying hair. “OK I need to have a one-on-one talk with someone about lighting” he announces, as a few of his students slowly prepare the studio set to film a scene from Mad Men. Half of his students ignore his first request (probably due to the fact that it is Friday afternoon), but this neurotic perfectionist continues to scramble and set things up himself (appearing indifferent to the fact that he has a group of able-bodied, twenty year-old students lounging on the studio floor). His dedication towards filmmaking has become second nature, a passion that he has been crafting since his days as a film student at the University of Bridgeport in Connecticut.
Returning to school after one disinterested attempt at community college, Greg was approached by a professor about taking a film class, and after experimenting with a few projects he felt, “I was really in my element.” In the early 70s, he applied to the University of Bridgeport which, at the time, was the only film school outside of the big-name ones like UCLA or NYU. He wasn’t really sure what direction he was headed, all he knew was that he wanted to get the hell out of Massachusetts. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do—I wanted to find who I was. I had no intention of teaching”, he remembers as if still wondering how he ended up at TCU. But, as usual, he was on the move: “It (Bridgeport) was amazing because we were an hour and a half outside of New York City, so I did a lot of growing up there—learned a lot about the world. I did a lot of travelling.”
That he did. The next decade would bring new opportunities: new jobs, new people, and new places, “Then I met a woman—story of my life.” The ambitious, young filmmaker floated from job to job, girl to girl, state to state, until he ended back up in New England. He got a job as a media consultant for the University of Rhode Island. “I liked the university style. I liked the pace” he admits.
Not yet a professor, Greg already had many film jobs under his belt. He had worked as a news reporter in Eugene, Oregon, a documentary filmmaker in Denver, Colorado, and was now unveiling his honed skill as a filmmaker to the students of Rhode Island. It wasn’t until threats of cut backs forced him to quit his Rhode Island gig (refusing to cut one of his friends from the staff) that he was approached by his friend, Chuck, about teaching at Texas Christian University.
It was roughly ten years ago that Greg got the call about a teaching position at TCU. The call was from Chuck Lamendola, a FTDM professor at TCU and former colleague from his time working at the University of Rhode Island. Initially, he thought, “Texas? Texas Christian University?” Growing up with a WWII veteran father who was less than enthusiastic about going to church, Greg was never drawn to the appeal of church life. “I called all of my friends and not one person said ‘Oh yeah you should take that job,’ but I didn’t care. I never listened to anybody,” he explains with a smile. The only problem was “I had never taught before and I only had an undergraduate degree.” However, in usual Mansur fashion, he wasn’t going let that stop him.
He made a deal with the department: “You hire me and I’ll get a (graduate) degree—and I did” he explained. I could see the memories flashing through his eyes as he leaned back in his office chair, “This is so insane when I think about it. I went full-time teacher and full-time graduate student here at TCU.” And Greg didn’t stop there, “I was also dating my ass off,” he adds.
“Working as a teacher taught me that it’s not all about me, and I like that” the professor proudly states. “When I go into a classroom I don’t think ‘Hi, I’m Professor Mansur.’ I go in there thinking ‘What do you need’? Or ‘What do I need to bring to the table today?’ That’s what I think about. I think ‘How can I make things a rich as an experience as possible?’ Because I don’t care about me, I’m irrelevant.” This humble approach might shock some professors but the students respond to it quite well. Joe Lacy, a senior FTDM major who is part of his cinematography class, adds, “I think he’s hilarious. His attitude towards students is different than other professors. He acts like just another student, who just happens to be telling us what to do.”
“I’ll have a one-on-one talk with you, Greg,” Charles Bridwell, a senior FTDM student, adds with a laugh knowing Greg won’t take him seriously. The professor just laughs, knowing Bridwell isn’t serious and probably trying to distract him just for fun. While Charles is a serious student, his relationship with his professor is so grounded that he never has to worry about insulting the good-humored Mansur. Charles is always the first (and usually the only) person to get Greg’s particularly sharp sense of humor and laugh at the subtle jokes that are usually mumbled off at the end of his sentences. Having spent time abroad together as part of a summer program in England, these two know a lot about one another and have no boundaries when it comes to their classroom conversations.
When asked if he has any advice for aspiring filmmakers, Greg answers, “Yeah, a lot,” with a bold exclamation as if he has been waiting years for someone to ask him this question. “You’ve got to immerse yourself in it—you’ve got to become obsessed with it,” he explains, as he starts to get more animated. Greg feels this is true for every young person aspiring to do anything, not just filmmaking. “Really, just know what you want to do and focus on it. It’s like the Cheshire Cat, you know, he says to Alice, ‘Well where do you wanna go?’ and Alice says ‘Well it doesn’t much matter’ and the Cheshire Cat says, ‘Well then it doesn’t much matter’ You’ve really got to have a focus.”
When teaching filmmaking (with classes like editing, lighting, cinematography & directing) Greg believes, “It’s about story telling. I think poetry should be a pre-requisite for this course, I really do.” He continues, “You should read. You should understand sociology and anthropology. You should understand people.” He starts to talk faster the more passionate he gets, “Poetry, itself, is art. It (poetry) is all about editing and pacing and rhythm, you know. I love how that last line of a poem can just knock you out.” That is one of the things that Greg feels the department doesn’t spend enough time on: “how to write—how to read.” His opinion is, “If you’re getting a business minor with this degree (FTDM) you might as well go be an executive producer somewhere. That’s not about the art…and I can only speak for the art.”
Greg isn’t just a film teacher. Obsessed with graphic design programs, photography, art shows, and Pop culture in general; Greg is still very much involved in Fort Worth’s art scene. From sponsoring young artists to continuing to submit his own works, (unlike some of his past romances) Greg has never fallen out of love with art.
As his students finally get the set blocked, lit, and framed, everyone gathers around the monitor to see what the shot looks like. “So Greg, when are we going to have our one-on-one talk about lighting?” Charles asks quietly, as he sidles up next to the professor with a sarcastic grin on his face. Greg laughs to himself. “I’ll have a one-on-one with you sometime Charles, but it’s not going to be about lighting” he answers slyly.