“Do you mind if we bring beer in here to sell?” a staff member of the Chattanooga Film Festival (CFF) asked the crowd gathered see “The Sacrament” Saturday night at The Majestic.
The question must have been rhetorical. If it wasn’t, the hoots and hollers given in response made everyone’s feelings clear. By that point, most of the people in the room were already drunk on three days of cutting-edge cinema and heady discussion about movies.
They’d seen a French art flick; a Japanese spoof of the Yakuza so bloody, it makes Tarantino seem quaint in comparison; and a film in which two friends take on dangerous dares to earn fistfuls of cash. So they were ready for anything, including beer while watching a horror film inspired by the Jonestown tragedy.
The CFF had started 48 hours earlier – not during the opening reception Thursday night at Hunter Museum, during which Mayor Andy Berke said he was “stoked” to have a film festival in Chattanooga, but later at The Majestic, when several dozen film fans cheered as the theater in which they were sitting darkened, the CFF splash clip lit up the screen, and a low rumble rattled the seats. Years from now, when the festival is spoken of in the same revered tones as Toronto and other larger scale events, only the people in that room will be able to say, “I was there when it began...”
I was there when it began, and at first, I was nonplussed by the opening night selection. Having never attended a film festival, I expected the organizers to open with a bang. Instead, they screened a small, independently produced documentary about a music producer in the ‘50s called “A Life in the Death of Joe Meeks” – a “low-fi film about a hi-fi guy,” producer-director-editor Howard S. Berger said as he introduced the movie.
I’d never heard of Meeks, and the topic isn’t something that would catch my eye while I’m channel surfing, but as “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” played to a sold-out theater down the hall, I slowly sank into the captivating story of his tragically short life. Afterward, Berger answered questions and spoke about the process of making the film, which included an interview with Jimmy Page. (I nailed down my one-degree of separation from the famous Led Zepplin guitarist and composer by speaking with Berger after the screening. Take that, Kevin Bacon!)
Opening with “Meeks” made a bolder statement than I’d initially realized. The CFF wasn’t going to play to expectations, the documentary seemed to say, but would be about the intimate experience of film in its many forms. I knew my appreciation for movies would grow throughout the festival if I allowed the current to carry me. Playing “Meeks” first also showed the organizers’ trust in the people attending the festival; they knew we weren’t there to be wowed by spectacle, but to expand our thinking.
We were also there to form new friendships. Before “Meeks” began, I overheard a man and a woman discussing what they’d be seeing during the festival. I joined their conversation, and was pleased to find myself chatting with two like-minded people who spoke the language of the love of film. Few moments during the course of the festival were as gratifying to me as that one.
It was certainly more satisfying than the movie I watched Friday night: “Mood Indigo” by Michel Gondry, director of “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.” The woman with whom I’d spoken recommended it, and assured me it would be a “transcendent experience.” Judging by the post-film discussion, the movie had just that effect on many festival goers. But I had a hard time staying in my seat.
“Mood Indigo” follows Colin, an independently wealthy man who falls in love with Chloe, a woman who appears to be the embodiment of the Duke Ellington tune with which she shares her name. Despite his insecurities, she marries him, and they live happily until a water lily plants itself in her lungs and she grows sick. Admittedly, “Mood Indigo” brilliantly conveys the breadth of emotions one experiences throughout the lifetime of a relationship, and Gondry’s use of metaphor is stunning at times. For example, when Colin and Chloe marry, they swim out of the church, having “taken the plunge.”
But for all of its inventiveness, “Mood Indigo” is steeped in more quirkiness than I can stomach. (This will be blasphemy to those who loved the film. They will likely brand me a simpleton. They might be right.) That’s film, though. Some movies appeal to specific tastes.
Although “Mood Indigo” didn’t win me over, the ability of the festival organizers to secure a film by a director of Gondry’s stature more than one month before its release speaks volumes about their connections, skills, and possibly perseverence. Without a doubt, the right people are heading up the CFF.
For my money, Saturday was the sweet spot. Like others, I found myself struggling that afternoon to choose between “Why Don’t You Play in Hell?” and “The Congress.” I wavered back and forth all the way to the theater, and started to walk into “Congress,” but at the last minute decided I’d enjoy “Hell” more. I certainly had a blast watching the Yakuza spoof, in which a group of teens dreaming of making a movie get mixed up with warring Japanese gangs. The film is equal parts cheese, humor, ultra-violence, and (as a statement about the decline of film as a physical medium) poignancy.
Although I would have liked to have seen “The Congress,” no film festival worth its salt makes things easy for attendees. There are simply too many great movies out there.
The popcorn-munching twenty-something who sat near me during “Hell” must have thought it was the funniest movie he’d never seen. His obvious enjoyment of the film only enhanced mine. This was also true of the large crowd that watched “Cheap Thrills” that evening with one of that film’s stars, Pat Healy. In the movie, a scheming couple put a struggling family man (Healy) and his friend through a series of increasingly twisted dares. It was the perfect film to see in a packed theater on a Saturday night. Viewers laughed at the dark humor, screamed at squeamish bits (of which there are many), and cheered at the end.
Afterward, Healy said screening “Cheap Thrills” for a festival crowd brings out the best in the film: “When you watch those things together, it’s okay. You’re having a shared experience; you can laugh at it and have fun. But if you watched it alone at home, you’d just feel weird.” (He was only partly serious, as he asked everyone to encourage others to see it via Video-on-Demand (VOD) and on DVD.)
Healy was a great catch for the CFF. Not only was he personable and friendly, and graciously answered every question the audience had, he made a good point. VOD and Red Box are wonderful inventions that have opened new avenues of distribution and revenue streams for independent filmmakers, but they have also separated film viewers from each other. While movies are a personal experience, as I mentioned earlier, they are also a communal one.
Any film festival without its share of “cool” moments would be found lacking. Fortunately, these moments were in ample supply at the CFF. My favorite came during the screening of “The Sacrament.” Just before the movie started, I overheard a woman talking about a theater venture she and her husband founded in Chattanooga. Intrigued, I inserted myself into the conversation and found out more. Then, during the screening, I was surprised to see the woman on the screen playing the mother of a mute child. Not only did actress Kate Forbes perform wonderfully in the movie, but meeting her demonstrated how a good film festival breaks down the barriers between artist and audience.
By Sunday, I was tired but hungry for more. And the CFF gang saved (what for me was) the best for last: “The Raid 2.” I’ll be reviewing it in the near future, so for now I’ll just echo Festival Director Christopher Dorch and simply say there are action movies, and then there’s “The Raid 2.”
Thinking back on the CFF, the organizers overlooked no detail. From the diverse selection of great movies, to the filmmaker workshops, to the social events (which included after parties with live music, Sunday brunch, and a VIP lounge), to the actor and filmmaker panels, to the awards ceremony, the event was as refined as a Scorsese masterpiece. Just as important, it went butter-smooth. Movies started on time, CFF staff were on hand to answer questions, and The Majestic was a superb host theater. Best of all, those in attendance could not have been more respectful of each other or the films.
Next year, I’m doing things differently. I’m going to attend more of the social events, and I’m getting a room at the hotel across the street, as the only part of the festival I didn’t like was driving home each night in an exhausted stupor.
Over the weekend, I heard a lot of people say Chattanooga is lucky to have a film festival of this caliber. Luck has nothing to do with it. Events like the CFF naturally grow out of vibrant cities like this one. Rather, as someone who loves movies, I’m lucky to be here.