This week I've been reading all of this silly hubbub about blogging being dead and people giving it up. I never understood the concept of blogging to begin with, so I don't know what to make of these discussions. What's that, you say? "But, Michael Tully, you're a blogger!" I guess that's true by the looks of my url, but I've always thought about this site differently. From the beginning, my approach has been to pretend that I'm a daily newspaper columnist and that my job is to write about whatever strikes my fancy on that given day. Of course, this allows for a shifting-and-morphing of content, including posting photo-recaps of film festivals I've attended, pointing readers in the direction of films that have truly moved me, humiliating myself by discussing my personal life, and mourning the recent demise of Maryland basketball. But this morning, I had a thought. Perhaps many of you out there are worried that my week-long absence is directly connected to this recent spate of film blogger suicides, and that I too am considering giving up on this site. Well, fear not, devoted readers. Boredom at its Boredest is here to stay!

The reason for my week-long silence is twofold. For one, I've been too busy writing and posting daily reviews over at Hammer to Nail to devote any time to this site. If you've forgotten to bookmark that link and make it a weekdaily destination, you should do so now, as the content is going to keep coming. This week's lineup of titles was particularly strong: Glory at Sea, The Guatemalan Handshake, At Sea, Up the Yangtze, and Battle for Haditha. But don't worry, there's more to come next week and beyond. All of this talk of critics getting fired and sites shutting down has me even more convinced that we need a site like Hammer to Nail to remind us why we're dorkily obsessive about movies in the first place. Especially low-budget ones. Unlike a lot of sites out there, we're committed to employing film lovers who aren't merely film writers but who are filmmakers. This is a unique distinction, and I think it will make our site an inherently more lively and engaging place to visit. I love to read theoretical essays by critics who have never picked up a camera in their life, but we all believe that H2N has a more solid, unique foundation in that all of our contributors put our muscles where our words are.

The second reason for my lack of posting is that I've been holed up in a ridiculous mansion in Kiawah, and it would be silly to describe my life to you at this moment. For example, I'm writing this from the sitting room in the master bedroom, which is a house unto itself, staring out at the ocean, as my dream-come-true of a girlfriend types behind me, waiting for me to post this fuggin' thing so we can continue to watch season two of The Wire. After which point, it's back downstairs to join my two lovely sisters and drink margaritas and watch the sunset from the deck out back. After which point we'll eat and perhaps play Yahtzee! and take elevator rides to the basement for no reason whatsoever. Tomorrow, the beach and tennis and sushi and maybe a late-night dip in the pool. I mean, do you really want to read a daily post like that? I thought not. And so the next week or so might be sparse and silent on this site. To get your Tully fix, I recommend you continue to check up on H2N to see what films we're continuing to champion and celebrate.

Have a happy weekend...

Well, not really begins, as the official site design has yet to go live. But it's official. I'm on the full-time payroll at Hammer to Nail, and I'm very excited about it. For now, until the new design launches, I'm going to be posting up to 25 reviews a month (don't worry, I won't be writing all of them). While our primary focus is American narratives under two million dollars, I feel confident that we've covered many of the most shining examples of those works from 2008 already, and so I hope to keep our horizons expanded (docs, world cinema, etc.) to make sure that readers are getting a well-rounded education in ambitious independent cinema.

It's rather perfect timing that Harmony Korine's Mister Lonely opens at the IFC Center tomorrow. While I'm pretty sure his film cost more than two million dollars, Mister Lonely is the type of work that inspired our new site in the first place. And so allow me to point you in the direction of my review of Mister Lonely, which is by far one of my favorite films of 2008.

More to come next week, so be sure to bookmark Hammer to Nail!

Congratulations to Jed Dietz and Skizz Cyzyk and Eric Allen Hatch for pulling together yet another incredible program for this year's Maryland Film Festival. It kills me to not be in Bal'more this weekend, experiencing the friendly, casual atmosphere that the MFF provides. I will certainly be there next year, even if I don't have a new film ready to present by then (at this stage, all signs are pointing in that lackluster direction).

The Maryland Film Festival isn't just noteworthy for its laid back, well run vibe. Jed and Skizz's commitment to celebrating short films is what makes the Maryland Film Festival so important and vital. Once again, tomorrow night's opening night program is not a star-laden Maryland-centric feature; it is a collection of wide-ranging, inspired shorts. I think that's really cool and deserves to be written about more often.

I've seen too many films in this year's program to list them here, so what I've decided to do is finally post my review of Mary Bronstein's Yeast, which is screening at the following times:

Saturday May 3 1:30 PM Charles Theater 1
Sunday May 4 4:30 PM Charles Theater 2

Being that I operated a second camera for a majority of the film, I feel it's inappropriate for me to post this review over at Hammer to Nail. But I also stand firm in my appreciation of Mary's electrifying debut, especially after having had discussions with some people who responded to it negatively. I think a lot of people are missing the point. That said, here's my eight or nine cents on the situation...

YEAST -- Hate Rising

Trying to uncover a cinematic precedent for Mary Bronstein’s Yeast is quite the assignment. Has there ever been a film written and directed by a female--and perhaps most importantly, starring--that is so unflinching, unflattering, and uncomfortable? Barbara Loden’s Wanda? Marina de Van’s In My Skin? Jodie Foster's Little Man Tate? (Just kidding about that last one.) Yet those comparisons don’t apply completely, because while Bronstein’s debut more than deserves those blunt, abrasive adjectives, it also happens to be laugh-out-loud funny and somehow, against all of those seemingly insurmountable odds, surprisingly light. In Rachel, Bronstein has brought to life a character that makes Nicole Kidman’s Margot look like a sprightly, good-natured charmer. Her hilarious and confrontational depiction of this bottled-up young woman’s painful fall from a grace that never was is a refreshing elbow to the face of the screen’s typical portrayal of female friendships.

Bronstein’s Rachel is the type of person who makes you wonder how she ever had a friend in the first place. Apparently she did, in the form of current roommate Alice (Amy Judd) and reunited buddy Gen (Greta Gerwig), but it’s also clear that whatever it was that brought these three females together in the beginning–most likely random dorm room selection–it wasn’t the most godly source. Yeast captures, albeit in excruciatingly heightened detail, that moment when a relationship has run its course and there is nothing anyone can do but accept that fact and move on. Underneath the disgusting glaze, Bronstein’s ultimate point seems to be a pure one: If it ain’t working, why force it?

While Rachel is clearly stunted on a level the likes of which the screen has rarely seen, everyone in Yeast is suffering from some form of emotional constipation. Judd’s Alice knows that she is through with her tormentor, but she is finding it impossible to break free. Gen is a spoiled pothead who doesn’t appear to have many goals in life. But this immaturity isn’t relegated to the females. There is a confrontation during a camping trip between Rachel and Gen and two random guys who are building a dam (filmmakers Josh and Benny Safdie) that feels like it could have taken place on an elementary school playground. This staggeringly juvenile exchange might have actually made more sense if it had been acted out by a cast of eight-year-olds. Just as stunted, albeit in a much different way, is Tony (cinematographer Sean Williams, delivering a wallop of a performance), who recognizes his power over Rachel and does his damnedest to get under her skin. Which he does.

A common gripe I've heard is that each scene in Yeast is a repeat of itself. In a superficial sense this is true, but in a deeper sense, it's the fucking point. While the situations happening here are reflecting a heightened representation of life--or at least any life I've ever encountered--the reality is that we as human beings are stupid and stubborn and overstay our welcomes in relationships of every shape and variety (romantic, platonic, familial, etc.). For me, one of Bronstein's most groundbreaking narrative choices is in the way she delays and manipulates our preconceived notions of drama and conflict. In a typical film, the first act or two would be a quiet, respectful, gradual build to the eventual melodramatic confrontation when the relationship has reached its shattering point. Here, we begin at that shattering point with every single character and every single exchange. When Gen uses a big rock to hammer a tent stake into the ground, or when Alice washes a knife as Rachel verbally abuses her from just a few feet away, we expect the inevitable. But Bronstein won't give it to us. It is this running tension that makes Yeast so riveting and playfully twisted. My hunch is that the viewer who embraces Bronstein's conscious tugging of our strings of expectation will get a kick out of the film. For those viewers wearing different goggles, maybe not so much.

While all of this might sound awful and unbearable and abrasive, it most certainly is. But what keeps Bronstein’s experiment from suffocating under the weight of its own thick, sweaty skin is its unyielding sense of humor. Yeast is funnier than most supposed comedies. Rachel’s inability to be anything other than horrifically offensive and abusive is so preposterous that one can’t help but laugh at her. One must give credit here to Bronstein the actress, whose expressive performance feels humane even at its most off-putting and cruel. This humanity is evident in Bronstein’s role behind the camera as well. She establishes, without music, without camera trickery, without any artifice, a tone that is nearly impossible to describe. Like the most worthwhile art, Yeast is certain to cause a reaction.

Well, it's about goddamn time. After years of dicking around and pissing into the cosmos, writer/director Todd Rohal has finally gotten his act together and managed to produce a DVD of his wildly inventive and bizarrely affecting The Guatemalan Handshake. But this isn't just any old DVD package. In teaming up with the deeply committed Andrew Grant and Aaron Hillis of Benten Films, Rohal has made good on his promise of putting out a product that isn't just a half-assed transfer of the movie.

Check out what's collected on this phenomenal two-disc release:

Brand New High-Definition Digital Transfer

5.1 Surround & Stereo Mixes

Commentary Track
with Production Designers Jim McNamee & Sage Rockermann, Producers Jason Orfanon & Craig Moorhead, Director of Photography Richie Sherman, Actor Ivan Dimitrov and Writer/Director Todd Rohal

"Outrage the Rooster!"
A new essay about the film by filmmaker David Gordon Green

THE DVD BONUS CONTENTS:

DELETED SCENES:

1 - Stool's Bus
2 - Barnard Is A Creep
3 - Ethel's Nightmare
4 - Ivan Cries
5 - The Quarry Visit
6 - Leonard at the Roller Rink
7 - The Scouts Hitchhike
8 - Separate Itineraries
9 - Spank Williams Warm Up
10 - Spank Williams TV Spot
11 - Turtle
12 – Wallet

SHORT FILMS:

"50 States"
Directed by Jared Larson (grip)

"Demolition 7"
Directed by Richie Sherman (Director of Photography)

"Monsters In Autumn"
Directed by Charlie Cline (2nd Unit Director), Starring Ken Byrnes (Mr. Turnupseed), and photographed by Director of Photography Richie Sherman

"Mother & Son"
Directed by Matthew Silver (Production Assistant), Starring Andy Nadler (Barnard)

"A Double Feature From Turkeylegs & Lucas"
Directed by & Starring Katy Haywood (Turkeylegs) & Lucas Haywood (Boy Scout)

"Little Richie Schreiber"
Directed by and Starring Rich Schreiber (Stool)

10 MOMENTS FROM THE SET:

"The Perm"
A short documentary about the details of Craig Moorhead’s background performance.

"I Hate: A Live Performance By Ken Byrnes"
Ken Byrnes (Mr. Turnupseed) performs live music at a local bar.

"Trouble On The Yellow Breeches"
A Fitzcarraldo-like journey bringing a big boat down a small river.

"Nads In Queens"
A Visit to Andy Nadler’s (Barnard) home in New York City.

"Amphicar: The Rescue"
A short documentary about the sinking of an amphibious car in the shadow of Three-Mile Island.

"Open Call"
Moments from the improvised casting sessions.

“Going Back Home To Dillsburg/Super8”
Super8 Footage from the set by grip and filmmaker Jared Larson and a tribute song performed by producer Nick Panagopulos.

"The Signal: A Baltimore Public Radio Interview"
Director Todd Rohal on Baltimore's WYPR with stills from the production.

"Making It In PA"
Behind The Scenes of The Guatemalan Handshake.

“30 Seconds For Room Tone”
The final moment of production.

4 MOMENTS FROM THE ROAD:

"The Guatemalan Weenie Roast" - BIRMINGHAM, AL

"Everywhere In Between" - Photos from the road

MUSIC VIDEO:

"Lost & Found"
A music video for Ola Podrida (featuring David Wingo, who created the score for The Guatemalan Handshake), directed by Todd Rohal and starring Ivan Dimitrov

Phew! That's a shit-ton of bonus goodies!

To purchase this incredible expression of many human butts and minds, please go to the film's official website, Amazon, or it can almost certainly be found at stores all over this lovely land of ours.

Lastly, no matter how many copies you purchase, put the film in your Netflix queue right now.

Congratulations to Todd and the entire GH team, as well as Andrew and Aaron. This is some A+ DVD business!

***UPDATE: It appears that tickets are all gone for Saturday night's screening at the Walter Reade. That said, if you do decide to take the plunge don't get angry if the theater is filled up. Hopefully it'll work out and everyone will find a way inside. I just wanted to let everyone know about that.***

The tragic story has by now been well documented. At SXSW, on the way to the world premiere screening for Court 13's indescribably epic and astonishing Glory at Sea (read David Lowery's thoughtful review at Spout), director Benh Zeitlin and several crew members were in a terrible car accident. Zeitlin was the most damaged, and his medical bills are exorbitant. If Glory at Sea were merely a top-notch independent film rooted in a generic genre, this would be unfortunate news. The fact that it is one of the most spiritually uplifting and transcendently hopeful works of cinema to have made it to the screen since... actually, I have no idea when and if I've ever seen anything like it... makes it unbearably frustrating and disappointing. Shame on you, world. Shame on you. Anyway, friends of Benh and supporters of Court 13's work have banded together to organize two fundraisers in the upcoming week.

If you are in New York City at 10:30pm this Saturday night, April 26th, and you aren't in a coma or aren't giving birth, you have no excuse not to be in attendance at the NYC premier of the film at the Walter Reade Theater. I seriously considered flying up for it. If I were a richer man, I would be there. Go here to buy tickets. I'm not kidding. This isn't just about celebrating independent cinema or supporting an injured young filmmaker. It's about something even deeper and more inexpressible than that. Glory at Sea is about the need for community and hope on a nearly religious scale. I have watched it several times in the past few weeks, and it only gets more stunning and perfect every time.

If you are in Austin Tuesday night, April 29th, you're in for a real treat, for that program collects several of Court 13's most exciting works, capped off by Glory at Sea. Go here for more details and to buy tickets.

Lastly, if you're in Boston this weekend, Glory at Sea will be showing twice, in the "Shorts 1: Narratives" package (Fri, Apr 25, 6:30 PM and Sat, Apr 26, 5:00 PM). Go here for details.

I have already written my Hammer to Nail review for the film, though I won't be posting it until after these fundraisers and screenings take place (more on that later). I know I can get carried away when I see something that blows me away, but I truly feel that the spectacle of Glory at Sea is something the world desperately needs right now. Do yourselves a favor and see it on the big screen, with as many close friends as you can. You won't regret it.

Prior obligations preclude me from attending this year's IFFBoston, which is a real bummer (along those lines, they also precluded me from attending the Nashville Film Festival, which is also a real bummer). That said, I can personally vouch for Adam Roffman and Jason Redmond's increasingly awesomer and awesomer festival, and I can especially vouch for this year's lineup, which has too many good films to even begin to single out. Go to their website to see for yourself, and if you're anywhere near Boston, check it out. As for you New Yorkers, get your asses to Canal Street to catch a Chinatown bus up to Boston to have a ridiculously fun weekend of cinema and debauchery.

I really wish I could be there to bask in the IFFBoston glory for the third year in a row, but such is life. Could somebody--check that, everybody--do me a favor? When you're at Redbones (and if you aren't there at least twice a day then you are a wack sissy), please eat a bite of mac-and-cheese and fried okra and some form of delicious meat in my honor. I'll love you forever. (Seriously, that place makes me moan just thinking about it.)

Now that Filmmaker Magazine has gone public with the details of their Spring 2008 issue, I suppose it's as good a time as any to let you all know that I had the privilege of interviewing cover boy Harmony Korine, writer/director behind the incomprehensibly glorious Mister Lonely. A hearty thank you to Scott Macaulay for making it happen and a heartier thank you to Harmony for suggesting I be the one to interview him. I remember reading and rereading artist Mike Kelley's interview with Harmony when Gummo came out back in 1997, and here I am looking at the cover of the new Filmmaker and I'm the Mike who got to chat with him this time around. Neat-o. As for the interview itself, I don't know if it's any good, but I do know that Harmony spoke honestly about a lot of things that I haven't read in other interviews, so I would recommend that you check it out. As for Mister Lonely, see that thing as soon as you can, then see it again!

One thing we discussed was Harmony's new side-life as a commercial director. Which leads us to today's link of the day. This new UK Budweiser campaign was directed by the man himself. Featuring Silver Jews members Brian Kotzur (on drums) and William Tyler (on crunchy acoustic guitar), the spots capture the funky spirit of Nashville with sloppy glee. Watch them here:

http://www.budweiser.co.uk/

Is this really it? Is this really my last post recapping the 2008 Sarasota Film Festival? Am I now free to return to photo-blogger retirement and simply write words and not have to import images, resize them, upload them, blah-blah-blah them? Can I go back to living a normal life? I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. For the record, this year's festival was an absolute blast, and I'd like to congratulate the entire SFF staff on another top-notch production. I have to say, of all the film festivals I’ve been to, the Sarasota Film Festival is my favorite. I can’t wait to see everyone down here next year! Hopefully I’ll be back with a film of my very own to screen for Sarasota's receptive, thoughtful audiences.

SATURDAY

It was perhaps fitting that the only film I managed to catch on Saturday was Josh Safdie’s The Pleasure of Being Robbed, especially considering what would happen later that afternoon. Josh didn't just bring The Pleasure of Being Robbed to Sarasota. Two of his splendid short films also made it into the program (The Back of Her Head and I Think I'm Missing Parts). Even if he hadn't run away with two of the festival's biggest prizes, this was already Josh Safdie's year. As for The Pleasure of Being Robbed, I found it to be even more magical on the big screen, and everyone I know was positively smitten with it (Medicine For Melancholy's Barry Jenkins and Nat Sanders were so smitten that they saw it twice in three days!). After that ended, I reunited with a few folks in the lounge before heading over to the main office to watch Holly, Tom, and Gary Springer frantically put together the press releases and scripts for the awards presentation, which was just about an hour away. I tried my hardest to not hear who the winners were, but it was hard not to hear most of the results.

Around 5:30 in the drinks tent at the Longboat Key Club, Tom, Holly, and Outreach and Education Director Hans Wohlgefahrt begin to hand out the trophies. As if I didn’t have enough duties already--blogger/writer for this site and Hammer to Nail; crew/cast member for Frontrunners, Yeast, and Natural Causes; programmer’s wife; etc.--I was selected to be a member for the Youth Jury. While many of the films were impressive, our jury all chose the same films for Best Directing (Kasey Hettig-Rolfe, Virulent) and Best Writing (Vincent Dale, Mouse Trap). When I put on Virulent, I thought somebody had messed up and given me a DVD of 28 Weeks Later instead. This thing was insanely well executed. Congratulations to all of the high school filmmakers selected for the festival. You guys are crazy talented.

Jody Lambert accepts the Bombay Sapphire Audience Award For Best Documentary Feature for his strangely surrealistic (at least to me) and wildly entertaining Of All The Things. Other Bombay Sapphire Audience Awards included:

Best Narrative Feature: Jeremy Podeswa’s Fugitive Pieces
Best in World Cinema: Juha Wuolijoki’s Christmas Story
Best Short Film: Amanda Micheli and Isabel Vega’s La Corona

Next up was the Independent Visions jury, featuring Hamptons International Film Festival’s David Nugent, First Run Features’ Marc Mauceri, and writer Nick Dawson.

They handed out a much-deserved Special Jury Prize For Cinematography to James Laxton for Medicine For Melancholy. Just about everyone but James was there to accept the award (writer/director Barry Jenkins, producer Justin Barber, co-producer Cherie Saulter, editor Nat Sanders). He was running late.

Next up came the Independent Visions Competition Award, which was given to Josh Safdie's The Pleasure of Being Robbed.

Josh was hilariously baffled by the attention. This picture sums up his amazement quite well.

The best part was that I knew they were about to receive another award, but as they stepped out of the spotlight and David proceeded to announce The Pleasure of Being Robbed as the winner of the Heineken Red Star Award, they were chatting in disbelief and had no idea what was happening. For this award, the winner receives a special insider industry screening in Los Angeles and gets to meet with and pitch subsequent projects to interested parties. Look out, Hollywood, here comes Josh Safdie!

The documentary jury (Red Envelope Entertainment’s Leisl Copland, Cinetic’s Matt Dentler, and filmmaker/blogger AJ Schnack) handed out two awards as well. The first, a Special Documentary Jury Prize, went to Tamar Yarom’s To See If I’m Smiling. For their Best Documentary Feature Competition Award, the winner was Gonzalo Arijon’s powerful Stranded: I Have Come From a Plane That Crashed on the Mountains.

The narrative jury (Unifrance’s John Kochman, writer Ligiah Villalobos, and IFC’s Alison Willmore) gave their award to Lee Isaac Chung’s remarkable debut, Munyurangabo. This film better get distribution. I know it isn’t an easily marketable crowd-pleaser, but come on, man. Somebody get their shit together and release this movie!

For those of us who were at last year’s epic dinner, the prospect of another interminable four-hour presentation was not very dreamy. All week long, Holly and Tom kept saying that they had supposedly figured it out and things would run much more smoothly. No offense to them, but I didn’t buy it. Yet they were right. What took four hours last year took two this year. I’m sure first-timers thought it was long and boring, but all of us in the know kept looking at each other the whole time saying, “This is flying by!” Here, Matt Dentler hopes that no one outbids him for a chance to spend a day on the set of Law & Order: Criminal Intent (compliments of Jessica Smith-Hall).

The portable bathrooms at this party wow me every single year. Holly and AJ are trying to act like there's nothing special about them, but I know that underneath those smooth glares, they’re blown away too.

Springer Associates co-workers Jen Blum and D’arcy Drollinger are still looking dashing, even after a full week of hustle-and-bustling.

THINKFilm’s Erin Owens basks in the glory of Dennis Lambert along with Lambert’s proud son, Jody, and Josh Braun.

Brett Jutkewiecz took this picture of Holly and me on the dance floor, grooving to Lambert’s version of his super-groovy hit, “Night Shift” (note: we're not as drunk as we look).

I don’t know what is going on in this picture between Jody and Tom, but I like it!

Matt Dentler and Greg Takoudes (director of the astonishingly well-acted Up With Me).

Rohal and Shelton and Phillips.

Tom thanks the super-sweet Emily Hubley for bringing The Toe Tactic to the festival. I caught The Toe Tactic at SXSW and it swept me all the way away.

Of course, Tom was the one who pointed out the poignancy in taking a picture of Azazel Jacobs (Momma's Man) and Emily, who are the offspring of legendary filmmakers in their own right (Ken Jacobs and Faith Hubley, respectively). Talented parents make talenteder children. This picture is proof of that age-old theory.

"Still Birth Byron." When I first met Byron Karabatsos, he looked at me with a funny glare. Turns out he's been reading this site for a while and he had that unmistakably weird feeling one gets when actually coming into contact with someone whose inner life they know quite well through reading their thoughts on a screen. Considering my complete inability to censor my innermost thoughts and feelings, this must have made it doubly weird. Anyway, Byron is a great new friend who made an unsettlingly hilarious film with Still Birth Chicken. Hi, Byron!

Eventually, a DJ took over and the dance floor became a hot spot. I have some funny video of the action, which I hope to post at some point sooner than later (note: this probably won’t ever happen, so don't hold your breath).

The music is so funky that Brett’s head hurts.

Having started drinking and socializing at 5:30, everyone called off the night when the late night wrap party shut down. As much as I enjoyed the late night rendezvous action on the beach, I don’t think I could have lasted for very long on Saturday. Thankfully, everyone else seemed to agree. So we went to bed.

SUNDAY

Sunday morning, I met up with producer Marc Raybin and writer/director/star Mary Bronstein to handle a bit of Yeast paperwork. Later that night, I would catch the second screening of Yeast. It played as I hoped it would. Aside from a few elderly walkouts, the crowd stayed glued to the screen, alternately gasping, groaning, and laughing at the obnoxious and brutal interactions unfolding on screen. Yeast is fucking awesome. I think it will get better with age, and especially when one charts the evolution of Mary Bronstein as a filmmaker. I'm lucky enough to be involved in her next project, which will be stylistically different from Yeast, but which will be another unflinching dissection of human dynamics at their most frayed and awful.

For me, one of the highlights of the entire festival was watching Harmony Korine’s inexpressibly lovely Mister Lonely in a packed, receptive theater on Sunday afternoon with so many like-minded friends. Afterwards, I wandered around with Aza, Ronnie, and Mary, basking in the glow of Harmony’s extraordinarily artistic, sincere, and heartwarming vision. I knew it would work just as well the second time around, but I can now safely say that it’s even better on the big screen. Mister Lonely is one of my favorite films of 2008 by a long shot.

Later that night, after the closing night film, Battle in Seattle, I thought the festival had ended. But not quite. Of course, we needed to have one more gathering at Cabana for more karaoke action.

Brian, Max, and Gi Gi capture the gamut of emotions that go into putting on such a huge festival.

To close out my participation in the 2008 Sarasota Karaoke Festival, I performed Neil Diamond’s “Love on the Rocks” in tribute to Greg Kohs’ awesome Song Sung Blue.

Thank you to everyone involved in this year’s Sarasota Film Festival. To those of you who I met, hung out with, laughed with, and talked to, I had the best time ever. To those of you who I forgot to snap a photo of or write about, I apologize. And to the die-hards that stuck it out for the entire festival (Luci Westphal, Mark Brecke, Jason Mitchell, and perhaps a few others), you guys deserve a Medal of Stamina. This past week was inspiring in so many different ways, and I hope to be back next year to experience the eleventh year of magic at the Sarasota Film Festival. And with that...

ROLL CREDITS.

***Click here for earlier recaps***

Opening Night-Sunday
Monday-Wednesday
Thursday
Friday

The main reason I've been concentrating on the social aspects of the festival and not the films themselves is that I plan to do comprehensive writing for Hammer to Nail and I don't want to blow my wad. That said, Friday provided me with two major cinematic revelations. While Tom Hall and Holly Herrick have the luxury of not being slaves to the "must program premieres" disease that plagues so many festivals, what makes their programming so extraordinary is their impeccable taste. Whether talking about narrative features, documentary features, or shorts of all shapes and sizes, Tom and Holly manage to put together comprehensive, challenging, illuminating, and exciting programs every single year. 2008 was no exception, and Friday provided even greater proof of that.

Here’s a blurry post-Q&A snapshot of the filmmakers from “Shorts 6: 21st Century Dilemmas,” which was one of my favorite programs of the fest. From left to right: Adam Pinney (cinematographer, The Adventure), Byron Karabatsos (director, Still Birth Chicken), Mike Brune (director, The Adventure), Ben Kasulke (director, Crustvaska, as well as the cinematographer for My Effortless Brilliance), Josh Safdie (director, The Back of Her Head), and Brett Jutkiewicz (cinematographer, The Back of Her Head).

Matt Wolf’s Wild Combination: A Portrait of Arthur Russell is, without question, one of 2008’s true documentary achievements. I have to confess, I knew nothing about Arthur Russell or his music before watching the film, but I am now ready to start downloading away. Russell had that very special gift of creating work that seemed experimental on the surface, yet whatever format he was employing, his songs always had a melodic hook that made them feel immediate and personal. The story of Russell’s arrival and life in New York City during such a historic era makes Wild Combination a vital historical document in addition to being a moving, informative portrait of a daring, original artist. Wolf combines actual archival clips with fabricated super-8 archival footage, mixing that with present day interviews with Russell’s loving parents and even more loving boyfriend. The result is a breathtaking revelation. How this film didn’t get programmed in the Tribeca Film Festival is too preposterous to believe. Even if this film wasn’t such a genuinely New York City tale, its artistry should have warranted its inclusion. But the fact that it’s a brilliant artifact of the New York City music and art scene makes its exclusion an outright crime. Shame on you, Tribeca, though your idiocy once again hasn’t surprised me. More importantly, thank you, Matt Wolf, for making such a beautiful, beautiful film.

Later that night, I finally caught up with Lee Isaac Chung’s startling Munyurangabo, which deservedly won the Best Narrative Feature prize. Munyurangabo is a grounded, yet deeply poetic, portrait of life in post-genocide Rwanda. The film follows two boys who are embarking on a journey to get revenge on the man who killed one of their fathers. Along the way, they realize how different their Hutu and Tutsi cultures are, threatening to shatter their previously strong bond and derail their mission. As the film unfolds, Chung becomes more abstract, building to a profound and electrifying moment in which a young man spews fiery poetry directly into the camera (easily one of my favorite moments in cinema this year). The entire film is a stellar achievement, marking the arrival of a major directorial talent in Lee Isaac Chung.

When talking about films I saw for the first time in Sarasota, Wild Combination: A Portrait of Arthur Russell and Munyurangabo were the winners of my Grand Jury Prize in documentary and narrative, respectively. (When talking about films I'd seen before but wanted to see again on the big screen, Intimidad and Mister Lonely won those Grand Jury Prizes.)

Awesome cinema having been accomplished for the day, it was time to head over to the “Night of 1,000 Stars” party to experience that indescribably ludicrous and absurd event.

Here is Jon Hyrns getting interviewed on the red carpet. What Greta Gerwig was to this year's South by Southwest Film Festival, Jon Hyrns was to this year’s Sarasota Film Festival (starring in not just one but two films: Alex Karpovsky's Woodpecker and Dominic DeJoseph's Johnny Berlin 2: Notes From The Dumpster).

If one picture could sum up the absurdity that was the “Night of 1,000 Stars” party, this might just be it. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the candy table, which was overflowing with sugary goodness (this table being just steps away from the alcoholic Sno-Cone stand, of course, and just a stroll away from the crab cake/shrimp/mussels spread). Speaking of absurdity, at one point, while the music was thumping and dance floor was rocking, all of a sudden the music cut out and a sloppy, drunken voice filled the speakers, saying, "Somebody bring me a gin-and-tonic!" Everyone looked around at each other in amazement. In all my years of being at weddings and parties and clubs, I've never heard the DJ take such initiative in placing a drink order. You might have had to be there to grasp the magic, but if I ever find myself behind the wheels of steel, I have learned a valuable lesson from that clown.

David Nugent and Violet Gaynor, just days away from their one-year anniversary, smiling amidst the insanity that surrounds them. For the record, I am responsible for David and Violet's union. Right, David?

Mark Rabinowitz and the other programmer's wife at the festival, Jessica Smith-Hall.

Jason Guerrasio is struck silly by the lavishness of it all.

Adam Pinney and Chris Brune wonder what planet they just landed on.

Outside, Holly and Lynn Shelton (My Effortless Brilliance) are happy to get a chance to sit down and chit-chat.

Tom Hall and Josh Braun looking sharp-sharp-sharp.

This might be the weirdest photo I’ve ever taken. I had no idea my camera had a “bald filter” on it, for when I snapped this picture and looked at it, all of a sudden Jody Lambert’s hair was gone. I made him bald! When I looked up, his hair was all there. Weird. Here’s the bald, aged Jody with his sister Misha.

The Of All The Things crew poses for a photo, not knowing that in one more day they’ll be winners of the Documentary Audience Award (in the center stands the man of the hour, Florida real estate agent/Philippino rock god Dennis Lambert).

Barry Jenkins tells Kim a hee-larr-ee-uss joke.

Outside, Eleanore Hendricks, Josh Safdie, and Brett Jutkiewicz have no idea they’re about to win two of the festival’s most prominent awards for their outstanding The Pleasure of Being Robbed. Instead, they’re getting ready to…

…Play some late-night volleyball!

Springer Associates publicist D’Arcy Drollinger looks like he just spiked somebody to death.

Jessica Bardsley, Brett, and D’Arcy try to battle their fierce opponents on the other side of the net. (Not long after, the game was shut down by a tired tenant at The Colony who didn't appreciate our fantastic volleyball acrobatics.)

Da Schnock and Da Nooooge.

Mister Nugent and Mister Tully.

I love this picture. Adam and Mike look like camp counselors who snuck some liquor out to the beach after putting their kids to bed.

Speaking of bed, that’s where everyone headed around 3:30 or so. I don't know why exactly, but this year there weren't any 5am blowouts like there were the past two years. Actually, I know why that is for myself, at least. I am o-l-d and I was yawning by 8pm every night, so I didn't have that same "let's party to the break of dawn!" urge that I had in years past. And who knows, maybe that did happen with select pockets of people. I just wasn't a part of it.

(That does it for Friday. Stay tuned for tomorrow's final post, recapping the awesomeness that was Saturday and Sunday.)

By Thursday, almost everybody had arrived in town and there was some seriously major buzzing in the air. What made this year feel even more buzzily positive was the fact that so many films arrived with full-on entourages, as opposed to just a director and/or producer for each film. I think this is because there were so many first-time filmmakers screening and everybody wanted to bask in the glory of having completed a project and been chosen to screen at such a prestigious, fun festival like Sarasota. Whatever the reason, the collection of happy, smiling faces was overwhelming and inspiring. And now, let us continue with my photo blog recap from the 2008 Sarasota Film Festival, at which point I can go back into retirement and hopefully never post one of these nerdy updates again (or until someone pays me to do just that).

It was a real thrill to sit beside Linas Phillips for the world premiere of his powerful, sobering documentary Great Speeches From a Dying World. Much like his excellent debut feature, Walking to Werner, Great Speeches finds the inquisitive, warmhearted Phillips encountering individuals less fortunate than himself, yet there is a humanity to his filmmaking that retains a strange sense of optimism even at the most brutal and unflinching moments. In Great Speeches From a Dying World, he follows around several homeless people in Seattle who are struggling against seemingly insurmountable odds to better themselves. If the audience responses in Sarasota were any indication, Phillips has a powerful hit on his hands. Great Speeches isn’t just a film about homeless people. It’s about struggle and loss and depression and addiction, and how difficult it is to rise above the oppressive forces that surround us every single day.

Speaking of positive reactions, here is SFF staffer Noah, who provided me with the thrill of a lifetime when he told me how profoundly affected he was by Silver Jew when he saw it last year. I don’t want to call him out or embarrass him, but I will say, for the record, that his admission to me was one of the most humbling and greatest feelings I’ve known as a filmmaker, especially since I tend to forget that I even made that movie.

Poor Holly and Tom. On their feet all day introing and Q&Aing movies in the cavernous back hallway of the Hollywood 20, barely getting a chance to sit down, let alone eat. By the time Holly finally got to leave for the day, the Thursday night party was already winding down. At that point, we had no other option but to head over to Applebee’s for some Killer Apps! As you can see from this picture, the apps weren't that killer. They were straight-up gross.

Which leads us back to Cabana. Seriously, towards the end of the week I started wondering if we were there for the Sarasota Film Festival or if the indie film world had instead flown into town for the inaugural Sarasota Karaoke Festival. Here, Matt Dentler rocks the house. I guess now is a good time to address yesterday’s earthquake of a press release. I learned of the news last Wednesday, and had to fight to keep my mouth shut. But this sounds like a great turn of events for all. Matt Dentler is moving to the Big Apple. Bring it on!

I like to call this picture “Barryoke.” The awesomer-than-awesome Barry Jenkins (writer/director, Medicine for Melancholy) delivered a ferocious version of “I Saw Her Standing There” that knocked off everyone’s mop-tops.

Mike Brune (The Adventure) delivered some uptempo musical magic.

Outside in the VIP lounge, Todd Rohal (get ready for the amazing Benten Films DVD release of The Guatemalan Handshake, it's so yummy!), Holly, and a blurry Alex Karpovsky (Woodpecker) prepare for the exciting weekend that awaits them.

Festival juror/blogger/filmmaker/etceteraer AJ Schnack shows everyone how Los Angeles gets the job done.

Fighting off the lost voice that threatened to silence her, Holly wows the crowd once again.

Film Festival Bob delivers a better Bill Joel than Bill Joel himself.

Who knew Josh Braun was a crooner?

Congratulations to Ray and Pete, who are officially engaged. If this dance floor synergy is a sign of things to come, I’d say it's gonna be a long, happy life.

Kim, Brian, and Mae Mae turn the dance floor from warm to sizzling hot.

Dentler and Tom Hall get stupid fresh.

I love watching people discover just how dope an MC Tom actually is. His Nelly is a guaranteed party jam, but it’s when he unleashes Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” that his true Detroit blood shines. Homeboy has serious skills.

Jen Blum dances to Mae Mae’s soulful grooving.

Karaoke Steve, Ethnee Lea, and Jen Blum show the room that publicists are funky singers too.

Ethnee wasn’t too pleased with her red carpet photo I posted on opening night, so I thought I’d snap one in order to let the world know just how sultry she can be.

Here, fellow jurors Alison Willmore and Mr. Dentler discuss tomorrow’s screenings and just how much beach time they’ll be able to get.

Then we all went to bed…

(Stay tuned for posts recapping Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.)

If you ever wondered what Las Vegas is like on the non-existent planet of Plutonioid, you should have been at the opening night party for the 2008 Sarasota Film Festival. Held at the historic John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art, this party was a ridiculous spectacle, but a fun one to be sure. It’s hilarious to encounter the bipolar divide at the SFF. All day, you attend screenings with receptive, thoughtful audiences, then at night you attend vainglorious, overblown parties with people who don’t seem to even be aware that a film festival is occurring. Which is fine. For some reason, in Sarasota, attending these parties doesn’t fill me with anger at the ostentatious display of wealth and excess. It’s almost too surreal to seriously consider. So instead, I align myself with similar-minded folks who laugh and appreciate the silliness of it all.

That said, there actually is a film festival taking place here. A damn fine one, as a matter of fact. Here are some pics from the first two days of action...

You know how at nice events you always hear beautiful women say, “This old thing? Oh, I just threw it on.” I always thought people who said that were lying. But in the case of SFF programmer Holly Herrick, it’s true. After a long day of running around handling last minute business, she stopped off at her house long enough to literally throw on a new outfit. When we emerged outside only fifteen minutes later, she was ready for the red carpet. Life isn’t fair sometimes. Here she is reuniting verrry briefly with her friend Andrea, who was visiting for the weekend from Venezuela. They got funny faces.

Speaking of the red carpet, here it is before the madness began. In this pic, Ethnee Lea (Springer Associates), Gi Gi Kuster (SFF Talent Liaison), Brian Reiss (Guest Services Director), and Jennifer Blum (Springer Associates) get ready to make sure William H. Macy and Jason Ritter aren’t trampled by the locals when they arrive.

Holly is confused and amused by my strange left upper forehead combover (it was really windy outside).

If we weren’t talking about Sarasota, I might not believe this story, but somebody informed me that this reporter in pink patented the Cubic Zirconia. Obviously, she’s richer than any human should be, so she decided to use her freedom to realize her lifelong dream of being a news reporter (to each her own, I say). Here are Holly and Tom explaining to people what a film festival programmer does (seriously, it seems like nobody grasps this concept in any way, shape, or form). At one point during the interview, she asked Holly to perform a twirl. Joan Rivers, watch yo’ back, Pink Zirconia is about to snatch yo’ spot!

There was an article in a local paper about Holly in which the reporter described her as having an Audrey Hepburn-like quality. All kidding aside, this picture supports that comparison quite nicely, I think.

Just after seven o’clock executive director Jody Kielbasa says hello to a packed house.

See, I told you it was a packed house (that’s festival Director of Development Jennifer Berges next to Holly).

Next up was the supremely awesome Tom Hall, who, as usual, made a point to thank all of the behind-the-scenes staffers for helping to pull off such a mammoth task. After that, Tom brought out the men of the hour…

Actor William H. Macy and director Steven Schachter, makers of The Deal, which was financed with Sarasota money and made the opening night selection an even more special one for the community.

While the film played, festival staffers sat outside and smoked crack rocks in preparation for the insane, sleepless nine days that had just begun. Here, Jennifer Berges tells Alex DiSclafani (left, Director of Marketing Assistant) and Megan Jourdan (center, Volunteer Coordinator) that more crack had just been delivered to the office, so they had nothing to fear.

I thought I stumbled into retirement when I found a million dollar bill in the parking lot, but…

…It turns out it was some random bozo’s business card.

Speaking of random bozos, I don’t think pictures or words or anything could describe the spectacle that was the opening night party. It was endlessly entertaining to meet first-time festival attendees who were walking around with genuinely stunned expressions on their disbelieving faces. But as I said, the energy was nothing but positive.

Were there hot babes at the party, you ask? I think this picture answers that silly question. Holly, Ray Conner (Call Center Manager), Christine Murphy, and Andrea pose for a picture before hitting the dance floor.

Scrolling through the program of this year’s SFF, one can only wonder: who is in charge of selecting this incredible lineup and putting together the schedule? Here’s who: Holly Herrick and Tom Hall (with help and support from Jessica Bardsley in the middle).

At that point, the dance party began, and as you can see from this picture, muthafuckas was fun-kay.

Here I am with one of the smoothest dudes in Sarasota, Tobey Albright (who helped Holly put together the music video program).

It wasn’t long before the powers-that-be shut the place down and we all went our separate ways to get some rest before the first full day of the festival…

Saturday kicked off with a very special event. Holly moderated her first panel, and while I’m sure she would have done fine with monosyllabic, drab panelists, she couldn’t have had a more intelligent, humble, and thoughtful group.

Panelists included Scott Solary and Luci Westphal (All God’s Children), Jenny Phillips (The Dhamma Brothers), Kurt Kuenne (Dear Zachary), and Mark Brecke and Jason Mitchell (They Turned Our Desert Into Fire).

Another one of Holly, just because. After the panel, I gave her a big hug and kiss and told her how much she meant to me, at which point she proceeded to…

…Dump me for Patrick Dempsey.

Later, I attended the Q&A for Scott Solary and Luci Westphal’s powerful All God’s Children, which received a standing ovation.

Here are the many subjects of All God’s Children, victims of the systemic sexual, physical and emotional abuse inherent in the missionary boarding school system overseas. Midway through the Q&A, an audience member pointed out that this was just one school and how were they all so sure that this happened elsewhere, at which point another audience member raised her hand and said that she had been brought up in a similar system in an entirely different country and felt like she had been watching the story of her own childhood. At which point another audience member said the same thing about being a missionary child in a different country. At which point I had a sinking feeling that the entire audience was filled with individuals who had been abused as children. Disgusting and infuriating.

I abandoned my filmic sensibilities at six o’clock to watch another form of stupid fresh drama, the Final Four. Fortunately, I found a sports buddy in bartender Mark at 5ONE6 BURNS, a lovely establishment operated by Max Burke-Phillips (aka, SFF Transportation Coordinator). It turned out Mark was a fellow graduate of UMBC, which is hilarious to me for some reason. Anyway, sitting alone at the bar I found myself becoming mesmerized by the repetitious pizza making of Brandon. By the end of the first game, I caved and ordered one of my very own, which was oh-so-very yummy. I’m heading back there tonight for the final. (Speaking of that, my wish and hope is that both teams are playing at their very best, but my fear is that one team is going to show up, one isn’t, and that will be that. But let’s hope for the best. These are easily the best two teams in the country and it has the makings of a true classic.)

I forgot my camera battery yesterday, so I missed out on the indescribably ludicrous karaoke festivities last night (Nora Dunn on the dance floor, former NFL wide receiver Freddy Mitchell singing "Don't Stop Believin'," Benny Safdie slipping into character as Ralph Handel and performing the worst stand-up act ever over "Welcome to the Jungle," all of the filmmakers in attendance getting up on stage to perform "Love Shack," etc.). But cameras were certainly out and about, so we’ll just have to wait and see who posts what. For the record, this year, my first selection, DMX’s “Party Up (Up in Here),” actually did start a dance party, as opposed to last year’s “Ghostbusters” debacle.

I might take a break from the photo-blogging until mid-week, when the next wave of filmmakers and parties arrive (this shit takes forrr-evvvvv-errrrr). But suffice to say, Sarasota is off and running and it is as fun as I hoped it would be. Hurry up and get down here, everyone!

You will be hearing much, much, much, much more from me about Mister Lonely in the coming weeks, but days after having finally seen it, I am still reeling. While many considered Harmony Korine to be a major artist on the basis of Gummo and Julien Donkey-Boy, I personally find Mister Lonely to be such an incomprehensibly gargantuan leap forward that I stand in utter awe of the new-and-improved Korine.

For me, what makes Mister Lonely so incredible is it's magical existence on a plane that is both fantastical and realistic. It sounds like just another punch line of a premise, but in execution, it is as personal as Azazel Jacobs' Momma's Man, albeit in a far more dazzling manner. This isn't a film about a kooky Michael Jackson impersonator and a statement on the buffoonery of celebrity worship in general. It is Korine's deeply personal meditation on his own troubled past and his quest to find peace within himself.

It should also be noted that what I find so exhilarating about Mister Lonely, as opposed to his earlier work, is Korine's ability to incorporate his multitudinous influences (Herzog, Denis, Fellini, Von Trier, Malick, etc.) yet deliver a work that feels wholly unique. Whereas in There Will Be Blood, I could feel Paul Thomas Anderson thinking, "This last scene is going to be just like Kubrick!", at no point did I feel Korine's influences overwhelming his own vision. And what a tender, sincere, lovely vision it is.

Mister Lonely is the work of a Major American Artist. I can't wait to see it on the big screen next weekend at the Sarasota Film Festival. I will be at the 2:30pm screening on Sunday. For those of you anywhere near Sarasota, or even if you're not near Sarasota, get here, because tomorrow night, the fun begins!

I don't have much time to write. Like, no time at all. But I felt compelled to let everyone know that one of the most ambitious and masterfully executed independent films of the past few years has opened at the IFC Center for a limited run. Jeff Nichols' Shotgun Stories is that rare gift of a work, debut or veteran, that doesn't manage to have one false note inside its gorgeously photographed (by Adam Stone) ninety-whatever minutes. Inside that lush, beautiful 35mm Cinemascope imagery, Michael Shannon proves once again that he is one of our planet's most compelling actors.

I know there's lots of basketball to be had--as well as the opening weekend of New Directors/New Films (can anyone say Momma's Man and Ballast, because I can!)--but if ever there were a film that deserved to be seen on the big screen, Shotgun Stories is it. See this movie!

I'm really honored to have been an attendee at last night's first ever Cinema Eye Honors awards show, held at the illustrious IFC Center. Congratulations to AJ Schnack, Thom Powers, and the entire IndiePix team for turning a good idea into a better reality. I think everyone was impressed with the legitimacy of the affair. It's something that is long overdue, and I feel confident that it will only continue to grow in stature as the years progress.

The yearbook/program alone is a really lovely tribute to 2007's sterling year in documentary film. But the awards show itself was breezy, pleasant, and somehow even inspiring. I say somehow because it felt like every single person who spoke preached the difficulties of surviving in this oft-ignored, uncelebrated genre of moviemaking. Esther Robinson was particularly eloquent in the director's roundtable portion of the evening (a very clever idea, I thought), in which she confessed to having weekly conversations with talented documentarians who are on the cusp of giving up and throwing in the towel. It seemed that everyone had their own harsh truth to impart, but rather than deflating me further, it made me excited to see that so much great work was born out of these seemingly insurmountable odds. It made me believe that our desire to make stuff will somehow continue to triumph, even as it seems to be getting harder and harder to do just that.

Schnack cut together a striking reel highlighting the most breathtaking visual moments from non-fiction films in 2007. Coupled with clips from the nominees for best film, as well as tributes to recently deceased filmmakers Tony Silver (the electrifying opening minutes of Style Wars) and St. Clair Bourne (a touching montage provided by Nonso Christian Ugbode), we were able to experience the visceral power of documentary filmmaking at its most alive and inspired. It's hard not to watch this footage and let all of those other worries and fears slip away.

Over at indieWIRE, Eugene Hernandez has a solid wrap-up that includes my second favorite quote of the night (Jason Kohn's "You feel like somebody else is winning and that person is no good"). As for my favorite quote of the night, that belongs to Mark Rabinowitz, who dropped this gorgeous doozy on me before the show had begun:

"Dude, doc chicks are hot."

The funniest part of the night was when we all spilled outside after the ceremony and IndiePix's Sally Plourde ushered a group of us into a stretch Hummer to take us to the after-party. Everyone seemed to be of the belief that stretch Hummers are a horrifically gaudy and environmentally unfriendly way to travel, but two seconds later we were all inside, drinking cans of Bud Light and justifying our behavior ("I mean, it was going there anyway;" "Well, this is only one automobile, it would've taken like six cabs to get us there otherwise;" etc.). Funnier than that was the poor panhandler who awaited us at our drop-off point. This guy must have thought a bunch of rich people were stepping onto the street, when in fact it was a bunch of broke documentary filmmakers who were still dazed by this unexpectedly royal treatment.

Oh, speaking of being broke, at the end of the night, as I was picking up my bag and jacket from the coat check, I thought I'd drop a quarter into the tip can. I figured it was better than nothing and that if everyone had done that the coat check person would have made some actual money. So what does the coat check woman do? She hears the clink of change, reaches into the can, and hands me back the quarter. I said, "What's up? You don't like quarters?" And she said, annoyed and cranky, "No coins." Being the idiot that I am, I dropped a dollar bill in the can and said, "You should take what you can get." I guess she didn't know who she was dealing with.

Anyway, congratulations to everyone for such a cool, fun night. I hope to be included in next year's festivities, and I also hope that the memories of last night will inspire me to keep pushing forward even as the world tries to suffocate my next project with its big fat ass.

I have to say, I'm really glad I took the plunge when buying my plane ticket and cut my SXSW experience short this year. At some point in the afternoon on Tuesday, I hit a serious wall. Maybe I've gotten that much older in one year. I didn't even rage or anything like that, but everything seemed to take a toll and I felt physically spent. I hope to post a more thorough wrap-up of lots of things I saw while in Austin, though, for the record, I think my favorite work was seen by my eyes before I got into town. You can read about that stuff over at Hammer to Nail. You can also read Mike Ryan's thoughtful posts about things that struck his fancy (we're working on his paragraph breaks problem).

It feels really nice to be back home. That's for a few solid reasons. The most important one being that it means I get to go back to JFK this evening to be reunited with this amazing girl that seems to keep liking me back for some weird reason. Another very important reason is that being home means it's time for today's ND/NF press screening of Momma's Man, where I will be in just under two hours. I'm going to bring a stack of tissues and hopefully find a seat away from everyone so that my emotions won't be distracting to those around me. If the film impacts me even 10% as strongly as it did in Sundance, tears will be flowing.

I guess I'll leave it at those two reasons and call it a day.

Let me first say that my thoughts, prayers, and very best vibes go out to director Benh Zeitlin, who was in a serious car accident on the way to his Sunday morning screening. At only twenty-five minutes short, the impossibly ambitious and life-affirming Glory at Sea (showing in "Reel Shorts 3") could very well stand for me as the crowning achievement of this year's SXSW. This Court 13 production (they made last year's spectacular Death to the Tinman) has the audacity of Werner Herzog at his most ludicrous. Every frame of Glory at Sea feels like it's about to crumble into a thousand tiny pieces, which makes its indescribably moving climax even more thrilling. I fought hard to suppress a flood of tears, and I know that I'm not the only one. Please visit the blog at Rooftop Films for ways in which you can contribute.

I'm also thrilled to have attended last night's world premiere of FrontRunners, which played like gangbusters. The crowd was on board from the very first frame and seemed to fully appreciate the lighthearted, kind-spirited approach director Caroline Suh chose to take. Everybody should go see FrontRunners!

See these movies too:

Intimidad
Natural Causes
Yeast
Medicine For Melancholy

Also, go to Hammer to Nail to read my review of Lynn Shelton's My Effortless Brilliance, which is another of today's standouts, as well as Mike Ryan's first SXSW post about Wellness.

Lastly, while I feel it is my duty to watch Nights and Weekends, as an individual who respects women I can't do that. Creepy and gross... creepy and gross... creepy and gross...

Please hop on over to Hammer to Nail to read my review of Josh Safdie's exhilarating The Pleasure of Being Robbed. It's a knockout.

Later tonight, I'll be rocking a pretty amazing double-feature. Yeast at seven and FrontRunners at nine. Superficially these films are very different, but if you're twisted like me you'll be smiling and laughing through both the entire time.

Last night's experience watching The Wire with four other devoted followers was a legendary one. As we left the hotel room and got on the elevator, we started to discuss the event. One floor later, a couple got on. As we were talking, I thought, These people must think we're total dorks. And that is when the guy interjected with some insider info of his own. We asked him if they had just watched the episode, at which point he pulled open his jacket to reveal a t-shirt promoting a fictional campaign of Clay Davis. It was a beautiful reminder that when you think you're the only dork in the world, there are bigger dorks standing right beside you.

For those of you who don't know who Clay Davis is, here ya go...

Y'all are dumb if you don't check out Barry Jenkins' Medicine For Melancholy today. Read my review here.

Other films screening today that I have seen and recommend: My Effortless Brilliance (review on the way) and Throw Down Your Heart.

Also, fear not, worried readers. Mike the moron didn't realize until I got here that I'm staying in a fucking hotel and that they, of course, have HBO. Which means I will be getting to see The Wire tonight in a quiet, controlled environment. Hooray for that, but it's a sad day for all of us who appreciate the gift David Simon and his team have given to us over the course of the past five seasons. It really is one for the ages.

As usual, I don't have much time to be online, but I wanted to point you in the direction of my review of Alex Karpovsky's Woodpecker over at Hammer to Nail. I can't recommend this hilarious and sad hybrid movie enough. It's really something else.

Before I go, I wanted to let everyone know of another film that might be misunderstood on the surface but that deserves serious consideration. Jay Delaney's Not Your Typical Bigfoot Movie. I don't know why this was placed in the 'Round Midnight category, for that implies it's some wacky Bigfoot lark poking fun at dumb rednecks. It is not. It is much, much, much, much more than that. Delaney has subjects and situations that are ripe for condescension, but he never lets the film veer into that territory. That said, it's impossible not to find humor in a lot of this material. But the film gradually takes a turn into realms of naked sadness that took my breath away and left me quietly shaken. Do yourself a favor, hold out on going to that party until after you've seen Not Your Typical Bigfoot Movie.

Time to eat before another long day of movie watching...

In conjunction with tonight's midnight screening of Baghead, I'd figure I'd get the Hammer to Nail party started with my review of the Duplass Brothers' latest gem. Read it here.