'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,
'Ff'lo
fflo

naked, not naked, bare, not bare: Opening Night at AAFilmFest

I feel naked without pockets, so I was naked at the film festival, this Opening Night. My purple velvet pants, it turns out, don't have pockets. I had my Kipling mini-backpack with me, the one like the one Juli has, and had stuffed the usual pocket goods into its compartments, and was carting it around over one shoulder while my date and I made our way among the culinary offerings, with our jackets reserving us some seats for the movies. Then at one point I went to get my phone out for something, and it wasn't there. It wasn't in the one velcro pocket I was sure I'd stuck it in. Had it fallen out, or been ripped off? Urggggg....

Fortunately, I wasn't a total asshat in the face of this distressing development. I didn't have a great sense of appreciation at the girl in the very short green dress, the sight of whom my date thought might make me feel better about having lost my phone---I said I'd rather have my phone than the girl in the very short green dress. Eventually I found that the phone was back with the jackets, looking like it'd just plopped out onto mine. This revelation did relieve me of my suspicious attitude toward my audiencemates, but it didn't make me think maybe I had been wrong and the girl in the very short green dress would have been a good swap. And it didn't make me any more fond of having no pockets.

I told my date about how in the novel Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman (better known for The Yellow Wallpaper) the most utopian of all the utopian aspects of the feminist utopia is that everybody wears comfortable, loose-fitting cotton garments---including pants---with lots of roomy pockets. Or so I have blown up the memory of it in my mind. I didn't say that bit about the relative utopianism or anything. But later I did say "aplumb," which is dorky, and maybe not the smoothest word for the circumstances. But hey, that's okay. It's all good.

There were some good little movies in the movies. I got that childlike giddy excitement bubbliness right before the first one started, when all the preliminaries were done, like I get after all the previews in the regular movies sometimes. I liked the opening Chick Strand, and want to see more of hers later in the week. Several of the others had real appeal, and there were some great laughs in "Fantasy Suite," by a Kent Lambert (of Chicago), who mixed up footage from an episode of The Bachelor (slowed down just enough to make the sound marvelous) with some other funny found stuff of mainstream romance. But I think my favorites, at least right afterwards, are Chema García Ibarra's "El ataque de los robots de Nebulosa-5" and Laurie Hill's "Photograph of Jesus."

Watch these three little wonders, if you'd like, here:











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