For a second time in a row, I attended the only local film festival in town. Unlike last year, there wasn’t another cool event competing during the same weekend; so I was better able to immerse myself into the world of independent film and the creatives who dedicated themselves into the art of filmmaking.
The opening-night featured film was a Luther Vandross documentary. Among my many talents, singing isn’t one of them. I danced in my seat and sang to my heart’s content along with other audience members who knew the words. As amazingly talented Luther was, known for his romantic songs, he died never knowing the love of an intimate partner because he didn’t want the added stigma of being gay. He already battled with being dark-skinned and fluctuating weight. Besides, he felt that coming out would have shamed his mother.
After the movie, many of us strolled down the block to the festival reception. Although I’d come alone, I joined a table of two women, mainly because of the Black woman with the African headwrap who exuded a lot of energy. Turned out that she wasn’t some out-of-town filmmaker, but a fellow yogi who used to attend my Tuesday evening hot yoga class.
I told her that I didn’t recognize her because normally, I didn’t have my glasses on in class. Yet, we swapped stories in a way that we never had in class. I got her contact information once she stated that one of her businesses was buying properties to rent out for high-end Air BnBs. I shared that information with my sister who’d also started buying and fixing up properties.
Soon afterwards, an actor from Durham joined us. In real life, he taught martial arts, but had acted in a horror film that made it in the festival. I told him that was the one genre I no longer watched, but wished him well. If he was half as energetic in that film as he was at the reception, the the film should be quite entertaining despite its genre.
The next morning, my usual plan to sleep in was thwarted because I also wanted to do a few loads of laundry before spending nearly the entire day downtown at the festival. I even bought a “dinner with a director” ticket for $20, figuring that that would be the most inexpensive meal and entertainment during the dinner block.
After all, the whole point for the weekend was to watch independent films and network. Although I didn’t emphasize networking too much, nothing will happen if I’m not in the space to actively do so. What I loved about the dinner was that, like everyone else in this industry, he had to get creative about funding and reached out to a pro athlete. Talk about connections.
Last year, I didn’t watch any films at the Capitol, which I thought was a theatre. I stood corrected. Although the space itself has gone through many different iterations, it was now a school and the screenings took place in an art classroom. I enjoyed both documentary films that I watched in that space, but those folding chairs were something to be desired.
The first documentary film I watched at the Capitol was about a revolutionary professor at my alma mater, Carolina, and playwright who wrote realistically about life in the South for Blacks, which was why he had a challenging time getting them produced in the South. Southern whites hardly ever want to see the ugly side of the so-called genteel South. The playwright himself grew up with Blacks, which was why he could write about their humanity.
The second documentary I saw at the Capitol, played in the last block as an alternative to the horror short films. I thought more people would watch a documentary about several Black women who choose to breastfeed, birthing coaches and doulas, but there were only four of us in the audience. Overall, I liked the documentary even though it seemed a little long. Could have been the time of day or the uncomfortableness of the the chair.
I sacrificed my usual Sunday morning hot yoga class to enjoy the last day of the festival, which kicked off with a members barbecue and awards ceremony. Since it was included in the price of my VIP pass, I knew I’d attend in order to get the rest of my money’s worth.
As I stood in the food line, I scanned the room. Almost made me feel like the new girl at school, looking for a table to join and eat lunch. Turned out, one of the filmmakers at the table I finally sat at welcomed me to the “cool kids table.” That analogy hadn’t been lost on her either.
At that table sat filmmakers who represented four different films. I’d already spoken to two of them previously and had seen all but one of their films. That was part of the magic of such a festival. One of the filmmakers was a professor and had done an animated film.
I whipped out my phone and started jotting down information about which animation program that she’d used. Much to my delight, I learned that I could import digital illustrations from the drawing program that I’d been using for the last four years. Another filmmaker beside me was taking notes from my notes.
In that brief conversation, I’d already thought of a short script that I’d written years ago and could polish up, illustrate and voice. As usual, wearing all the hats myself. It’s not that I’m such a control freak, wanting everything myself. I just feel that I’d have to pay other people to take the project as seriously as I do and in the end, would have to do all the things myself anyway.
I’m going to use the wish to start animating to keep the fires burning on finishing two other projects that I need to complete prior to starting anything else: my aunt’s surprised birthday video and finally finish typing up all my journals.
The former would’ve already been completed had I never started studying for my pharmacy tech license, but the nerd in me absolutely love studying, especially since the company is paying for it and in the long run will put more money in my pocket.
Plus, I don’t want to do a slapdash job of editing the video; so, I’ve taken my time getting everything together. The video want be anything fancy, but at the same time, I want it to be a documentation of the event and an entertaining showcase of embedded pictures.
After the barbecue awards ceremony, I returned to my car to read email on my phone until the first block began in less than an hour.
On Sunday, all the juried award-winning films were shown. I’d seen two out of the three feature films, but none of the short film award winners. They showed two of the featured films back to back, the second one I’d seen before about the first environmental movement that dealt with the inherent racism of burying contaminated wastes in a predominantly Black area. Two of the people who were in the documentary had answered questions about their experience and the making of the film.
As much as I’d enjoyed that documentary, I chose to eat lunch next door at one of my favorite Italian restaurants. I’d eaten there several times before and knew what I wanted. When the server responded to my order, “This will be easy,” I had no idea that she’d bring my drink, drop off my food and disappear until about 20 minutes after I’d finished my meal. I wasn’t in the mood to aggressively flag down another server for a to-go box, but since I’d begun watching a video, I sat there silently fuming.
My server finally returned to drop off the bill. I’m usually a straight up 20% tipper plus I round up to the nearest dollar. I don’t believe in stiffing anyone, so she got around 10%. I honestly believe that servers should be paid a living wage and tips should be eliminated, but for poor service like that, she may not last too long.
I returned to my car to continue watching the video of a property tour that my sister and her family had made of a house that they are renovating to rent. When I finished, I returned to the theatre and caught the last 20 minutes or so of the documentary before the block of award-winning short films played.
Among those films, one was an animation. Those filmmakers managed to tell a touching and compelling story without any dialogue. I’ll have dialogue for mine, but they had a whole team of people working together for their film. As much as I’d love to have that for my animation, I’ll see what I can do with the resources I have.