“Another depressing movie for the depression,” Abel Ferrara cracked, after a screening of his 1992 film Bad Lieutenant at Anthology Film Archives on Saturday night. The screening was held to raise money for Cinema Nolita, an indie video store on the verge of having to shut down for lack of funds (they’re having another benefit tonight, a concert featuring The Virgins and a DJ set by Animal Collective). Ferrara, who lives in the neighborhood and is a regular patron of the store, turned the the post-movie Q & A into an angry but resigned meditation on the ways in which New York, indie film and the world have changed in nearly two decades, to get us from the point where someone like Ferrara could make a film on the streets of New York, to the point where someone like Ferarra may soon be unable to rent a film on the streets of New York.

“Watching this film, it’s kind of sad,” Ferrara said. “At that time, there was some kind of indie film scene going on, and we could make a film and get it distributed. Why that indie film industry isn’t there [now] is caught up in the changing times.”

Several times during the evening Ferrara grumbled over the compromises involved in getting his upcoming 50 Cent-starring Jekyl & Hyde adaptation off the ground. “We’re just trying to get the movie made, and now every movie’s being made in Grand Rapids, Michigan, even if it’s set in Liberia. I’ve never been to Grand Rapids, but they’re bending over to give movies cash [via tax incentives].”

“I don’t know if we could have made [Bad Lieutenant] in Grand Rapids,” Ferrara said, pausing to laugh to himself. “But in this day and age, if you get money to do a movie, you’re gonna go to Mars.”

For Ferrara, his difficulties financing and distributing films in North America - his last feature, 2007’s wonderful Go Go Tales, remains unreleased here due to legal issues — are tied into the demise of places like Cinema Nolita. Several times, he asked the audience things like, “How do you guys watch movies? Is everyone shaking down the internet?” It quickly became apparent that, in Ferrara’s world, “internet” is a dirty word.
“When I made [Bad Lieutenant], they were trying to sell the internet to me as the best thing to come along,” he said. “At this point, I feel like it’s another knife in the back of the filmmaker’s spirit. Somehow, having direct access to your audience is not turning out to get movies made.”

Tom Jarmusch, brother of Jim, was in the audience. At one point, Abel asked him to talk about how his brother continues to get his films financed and distributed. He didn’t — the obvious answer is “casting BIll Murray” — but he seemed to agree with Ferrara’s stance on the paradox of technological change. “It seems like all these opportunities are opening [doors], but they’re really shutting,” Jarmusch said. Ferrara responded, “It’s open, but it’s a rip off,” and then ranted a bit on piracy via YouTube.

Speaking of YouTube: at one point, Ferrara announced, “We got a special attraction.” He motioned to the projectionist, and soon we were watching the trailer for Werner Herzog’s Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, the project that famously provoked Ferrara to comment that he hoped Herzog and his production team “die in Hell.” Ferrara’s post-trailer comments were still bitter, but more restrained.

“Unfortunately, anyone involved in our film wasn’t invited for that film, but I was told I should be really happy that such great people are ripping off our ideas.” A voice in the crowd called out, “You didn’t see a dime off that?” Ferrara: “Well … I might have saw A DIME.” Another voice asked if Ferrara planned to see the remake when it comes out. He shook his head vigorously and gestured to the screen where the trailer had played. “That’s enough of that.”