Madness ensues

Ryan Conrath January 22

What an insane couple of days. It is Sunday night and I have seen 6 movies in two days. I woke up at 6:00 in the morning on the first day of the festival, thinking I would have an upper hand as far as the line at the ticket box office goes. I was very wrong. I walked through the early-morning snow for about 20 minutes and arrived at the box office. When I got there I was behind 60 people waiting to buy tickets just for that day. I learned from a man who was thirteenth in line that he had arrived at five AM and the man in front of him had arrived at three AM. I was startled to hear that the man who was first in line arrived at eight PM the night before. There is certainly no dearth of movie fanatics here, not to mention ones who are willing to sacrifice sleep to see a couple of flicks. Charming stuff, really.

The lines to buy tickets in the morning at the box office are full of insane cinephiles

But I want to think about this for a second. What does it mean to watch a film when your head is perhaps slowly gravitating towards the shoulder of the large man sitting next to you as you drool over your popcorn? Can you really form a fair opinion about a film you watch when you are in a state of delirium caused by a gross lack of sleep? Pop film critic Kenneth Turan was wise in saying that reviewing a film is like trying to "operate on a patient while still trying to keep him alive." This quote is perfectly indicative of the main problem with film criticism in general and more particularly, the festival experience.

If we are cutting open this film what is required of us, ethically, as these critic-surgeons? Mustn't we have, as David Hume suggests in his aesthetic treatises, delicate taste? Must we not approach each and every work of art without prejudices either? I admittedly forewent seeing the Jennifer Anniston film because, well, I find no value in her as an actress. But isn't this kind of thinking a grave mistake on my part? But before I get to that, let me tell you about my experience on Saturday.

Filmmaker John Waters outside the Eccles theatre kindly taking time to pose for a fan. He directed "Pink Flamingos" and "A Dirty Shame"

After I had gotten my tickets, I traveled over to the Eccles theatre, which is on the outside of town and is the biggest venue (1,300 capacity). I saw Wrestiling With Angels which was a movie about the life and work of playwright Tony Kushner. Sure, it worked as a film, but Kushner's antics made the film especially watchable. But the most important thing that happened that morning was my meeting Filmmaker/dilettante of grotesqueries, John Waters. He has a wonderfully vintage pencil mustache.

Next I saw Nick Nolte. But I didn't care. He was this big grizzled idiot. But his performance in Off the Black was the only good thing about the film in my mind. The film I saw after that was a stunning film called Jewboy. I loved this film. It was completely experiential and amazing. This is an example of a film whose form matches the content quite effectively. The movie is about a Hassid who is losing his faith and the editing is quick, almost like moments of stuttering... like indecision.

Screening of "Off the Black" with Nick Nolte at the Eccles theatre

The night was capped off by a viewing of the world premier of the film Destricted. This is a film which is made up by 7 pieces by seven different directors. All of these films are about pornography and sex. One of the most notable pieces was one made by the almost mythic experimental filmmaker Matthew Barney. He is famous for his epic series, The Cremaster Cycle. Barney has certainly not strayed from his theme of sexuality in his film Hoist. The film portrays a man who is lifted into a machine and ejaculates on it and proceeds to rub his penis against it. Not much of a message here for me. The idea that man and machine are merging is no new news. I am not going to talk about the rest of the films, because I hated them, except for the last one, We Fuck Alone, by iconic French filmmaker Gaspar Noe. The idea behind this film seems to be that when we make love, we indeed are making love to ourselves in the sense that we are making love with an idea of a person we have in our mind. Or, perhaps, if we are exposed to porn, we are having sex with something that has been implanted into our mind. Needless to say, however, I came back to the hotel later that night feeling quite vulnerable and dareisay violated.

Okay, so where are we going now? I have so much more to say. I want to, in the coming days, talk about the obsession with celebrity, the impossibility of criticism and the meaning of the festival. But I am tired now. Let me tell you though, I want to talk about this idea of having a prejudice against a movie and how one can get past it (obviously, as you can tell, I am still working on this a lot in my mind). I am going to post a proper review tomorrow. It will be on a film I saw today, Into Great Silence, which is a three hour documentary about monastic life. Stay tuned, it is going to get complicated and painful and fun.