my weekend at siff: a case-study in obsession and snacks
I don’t know how the Platinum Passholders do it: the weeks and weeks of constant moviegoing to justify the shiny metal pass that gives them access to everything. For the last week or so, I’ve been going to a movie or two a day and after seeing a measly seven over the Friday-Sunday weekend, rushing for nutrition in between screenings and venues, my brain already feels more like misshapen grey glue than usual.
Yet I still can feel the pull of the obsession. As evidence: I actually spent considerable time this morning figuring out whether I should spend two hours with cannibals in the Andes or go see Annuals and Times New Viking [neumos]. This is utter lunacy on my part: Times New Viking put out one of the best new pretty/ugly albums of the year and I’m thinking of ditching them? I’m sure that Stranded is good, but I think it will hold up better on DVD than the bands will. (see also, distorte)
After the jump, quick rundown of what I saw, the terrible dietary patterns induced by moviegoing, and additional proof that SIFF is causing me to lose my mind.
the Great Buck Howard : Someone at the SIFF programming office has a thing for magicians at gala screenings. A couple years ago, the festival opened with the Illusionist (the decent, but less thrilling dueling magician movie of that summer). This year the centerpiece gala screening was about a mentalist making a comeback and disillusioned law student trying to break into “writing” by way of tour management. Although the movie was entirely pleasant — surely it is the best thing you’ll see all year featuring John Malkovich as a washed-up traveling performer assisted by Colin Hanks playing Tom Hanks’s son — the Q & A was a little bit of a funny antidote to the sincere film when the director and star handled odd questions from the audience like “why was there a boom in that one scene?” and “why weren’t there any cell phones until the second half of the film?”
Afterwards, the gala at the D.A.R. made up for the missteps of the opening night festivities. Everyone was issued drink tickets, which were redeemable for generously poured cocktails upstairs. The people from Blue C and Boom Noodle stocked the tables with mountains of food (you know what is surprisingly delicious? Edamame paste with taro chip). A band played upstairs, the crowd stuck around for hours, and Colin Hanks sat outside with onetime SIFF director Helen Loveridge and gamely posed for photos with fans. It was a little sad to when we had to leave early to meet other friends at the “SIFF Lounge” before the midnight screening:
Otto; or up with dead people : if the title hadn’t already been taken by another film in the festival this one might have been called Young People Fucking (each other in the guts. no, really.). I admit that the late hour and the drinking may have contributed to my slipping into a half-sleep for a few minutes during the heavier parts of Bruce Labruce’s film-within-a-film narrative–dissertation mash-up. Even though it was more sex and think than gore and scream than I was looking for, I still think that even if Otto isn’t your new style icon, he’ll make an exceptional halloween costume.
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I finally made it out of the house on Saturday in time for About Water at Pacific Place (concessions consumed: hot pretzel). This one did well on the “truth in advertising” nature of its title. I don’t think that I “liked” it. In fact, I’d rather pretend that the people and places featured in it don’t exist at all because that would be a lot easier. Rather than load the film with facts, figures, blame, and solutions about the various flavors of water crisis, this film instead dropped the audience into three parts of the world showing how water, or lack thereof, burdens the people who live there. There are devestating floods, a vanished sea, and an economy of yellow water cans in the setting of abject poverty. The images overwhelm: rhythmic flow of unsanctioned taps filling jugs hauled by women, children nervously holding drawings of a fantasy sea to the camera, a ship rising from a long-dry plain, livestock and people wading across flooded riverbanks.
Next was a trek to the Uptown for Erik Nietzsche: the Early Years, which surprisingly (or perhaps only in comparison) felt like a fuzzy antidote to the dry and unsettling selection earlier in the day. [mb]
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Sunday started with Phoebe in Wonderland (concessions consumed: wasabe trail mix + izze soda), a bighearted story about a misunderstood kid who finds some sense of control over her life by playing Alice in a school play directed by an otherworldly new drama teacher played by Patricia Clarkson. There’s some tension at home as Felicity Huffman deals with being “just” a stay-at-home mom to two rambunctious daughters who can’t finish her book about (of course) Alice in Wonderland while husband Bill Pulman is getting published by a small press. Like her older sister, Elle Fanning is preternaturally strong performer in the title role. Although it drags a bit toward the end and handles Serious Issues in Lifetime Movie of the Week fashion, it was fairly moving and effective on balance.
After an hour retreat to type and drink coffee at Stumptown, we couldn’t ignore the surprising afternoon sunshine any longer. It required a bit of bundling up, but we sat on the patio at Linda’s for burgers in spite of the chilly air before seeing Baghead. [mb]. Right now, it’s near the top of my list, a little behind the outstandingly great Encounters at the End of the World I’ll try to write more about it before it arrives in Seattle next month, but you should keep an eye out for that Herzog if you like weird creatures and the things they study even just a little bit.
Finally, the weekend ended with Still Orangutans. I am sorry to report that there was not a single ape in this film. However, I can forgive it because the single take high-wire never gets in the way of the barely-connected vignettes that the floating camera finds on an especially hot day in Brazil. Each one would have been sufficient for a short film of its own, but together, as the lens drops one life for another, they are more than the sum of their parts.
(Of these, Still Orangutans [siff] has another screening tonight: 9:30 at the Uptown)
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I really liked Still Orangutans myself (hence my putting it into the recommendations) although I was initially very hesistant, thinking that the "gimmick" would, as so often happen, stilt the story. Instead, it turned into a fascinating film.
Also, Baghead rules.