Here we go...
This is where it all went down. Well, not all of it, but most of it. Other screenings were held at the Coolidge and the Brattle, two classy establishments that I was lucky enough to frequent on the final days of the festival. But seeing as the Somerville Theatre was home to the Filmmaker’s Lounge (i.e., free Red Bull), that’s where I spent most of my time.
I love this picture. Todd, Alex, and Adam, sitting outside Redbones. Redbones, Redbones, Redbones. I miss Redbones.
I wasn’t lying about the bowling. This is just before the pins began to drop like rain.
Here is Mike Akel, director of CHALK, acting humble and surprised, when in fact he’s about to unleash a double-whammy by bowling the shoes off of everyone and walking away with the Grand Jury Prize. Save some glory for the rest of us, asshole.
Ryan Fleck and Anna Boden, creators of opening night’s HALF NELSON, calculating just how many ducats their film is going to clock when it’s released in theatres this summer. Seriously, check it out. It’s really, really good.
While this picture may be artsy-fartsy, I am pleased to report that Adam and Aaron Nee’s THE LAST ROMANTIC is anything but that. I’m actually dying to see it again, which is probably the biggest compliment I can give a film right now. Distributors, what are you doing???
Meanwhile, on lane six, Steve Anderson contentedly bowls away, knowing that his film, F*CK, has already found distribution. Wouldn’t it be nice…
This guy is about to sprain his brain trying to will some distribution into reality for his film.
This stupid fresh promo shot was taken by none other than the following stupid fresh human…
Many of you are wondering what Alex Karpovsky could have possibly done to have become such a prominent force on this world-renowned website in just a few week’s time. Though I promised I wouldn’t go public with this information, I’m a poor man, and poor men do what they have to do. Ladies and gentlemen, Karpovsky paid me cold, hard cash. His contract is set to expire in a few months, so hopefully he can find a way to keep the payments coming and maintain his lofty status.
If an independent film festival programmer has ever looked this badass, I’d love to see photographic evidence, because I simply don’t believe that’s possible. Remind me never to piss off Adam Roffman.
At Saturday night’s party, I snapped this picture of LOL gals Kris and Tipper, who are both incredibly sweet.
How often in life does one return to his or her amazingly dope hotel room only to find this sitting on their bed? Not often enough, my friends, not often enough.
The lengths a host will go to in order to keep the natives restful. When technical difficulties threatened to spark a riot, Coolidge host Andrew flaunted his gymnastics skills and kept everyone happy. Good job, Andrew!
In what could possibly end up being the most surreal memory of this entire COCAINE ANGEL experience, I witnessed my first ever “belly dancing open mic” upstairs at The Middle East before the closing night party. Life is strange.
Documentary juror David Redmon will always have a lasting place in my heart, for he is the first person to ever introduce himself by saying, “I read your blog.” I think that broke some strange seal, because I heard that a few more times towards the end of the festival. David and Ashley Sabin are one of those couples that make you feel like an even bigger loser for not having a steady partner. It’s inspiring and depressing at the same time. But I’m really glad I met them. (Hi, guys!)
Steve Anderson (F*CK) and Amanda Micheli (THIN). Both documentaries. Both one word. Both four letters. While I haven’t seen F*CK yet, THIN made me cry.
This is the only picture I have of Linas Phillips (on the very left), who was the mastermind behind the amazing WALKING TO WERNER (more on that later). Next to him is Karpovsky (you owe me another five bucks, dickhead), and then comes Linas’s producer, Dayna Hanson. They’re being talked to by the one-and-only Joe Swanberg (LOL), who’s first film, KISSING ON THE MOUTH, I plan on seeing at the Johns Hopkins Film Festival this Saturday night in Baltimore.
Andrew drinks with the glee of a man who did a handstand on stage several hours earlier, while Amanda smirks that off with the glory of a woman who won the Documentary Grand Jury Prize the night before.
Todd Rohal (THE GUATEMALAN HANDSHAKE) is still upset that he didn’t win the Grand Jury Prize, while Adam Nee (THE LAST ROMANTIC) and Chris Wells (LOL, back to camera) don’t seem to mind. Meanwhile, Alex Karpovsky is wondering why he’s spent so much time hanging out in the Filmmaker’s Lounge when he doesn’t even have a film in the festival. Fuckin’ freeloader.
Which leads us to the after-after party in room 508, which was one of the funnest, weirdest nights that I can remember. I should probably just let these pictures speak for themselves, but of course I won’t…
“Red Eyed Monsters”
“Race for the Buzz” (Clarification: this wasn’t a drinking contest, it just looks like it.)
Troy Morgan (left) may have directed DRAGON, but Todd Rohal is SATAN!
This fall, on NBS, a new sitcom: “The Sheikh, Fat Cheetah, and Daddy Giraffe!”
This fall, on CBS, a new cop drama: “The Inspector and The Giraffe.”
Plotting something or other.
My new “Michael Tully, director” publicity photo.
My new myspace profile photo. What do you think, Todd?
What? Wait a minute, why are you laughing?
Get out, everybody, Mike is tired.
Todd and I headed downstairs the next morning (or should I say afternoon) to rendezvous with Robin and Rory for some lunch. But when we got downstairs, Rory was still in party mode, sporting her very own cheetah robe.
At Monday night’s wrap party, the filmmakers were few and far between. Here’s Aaron Nee and his wife Ann. They’re talking to that guy who was really pissed off at the bowling alley on Thursday night. I’d like to reiterate my love for THE LAST ROMANTIC. And the fact that Aaron did all of the color correcting and visual trickery makes me admire him even more. What a talented mofo.
I think it’s fitting that this is the final picture of the festival. The man on the left is Matthew Lessner, director of the short film DARLING, DARLING. You see, here at “Boredom at its Boredest,” we don’t discriminate between filmmakers. It does not matter to us whether you make documentaries, features, or shorts. What matters is that you make stuff. So stop reading this dumb-ass blog and go make something!!!