And that is when the Lord said unto thee, "Wassup, son, how's about another year of stupid fresh cinema sponsored by the mackadocious chil'ren at the Film Society of Lincoln Center?" And that is when thee said unto the Lord, "MOTHERFUNK YES, MISTER G-TO-THE-O-TO-THE-MUTHAFUCKIN'-D."
I feel like I'm about to kiss a pretty girl, or go on an awesome vacation, or wake up on a particularly charmed Christmas morning. That's right, folks, the time has come for this year's New York Film Festival press screenings to begin. And what a beginning it promises to be, with Julian Schnabel's THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY, starring one of Earth's most brilliant actors, Mathieu Amalric.
This year's lineup has me downright giddy. Bela Tarr, Gus Van Sant, Cannes award winners, the possibilities are gloriously endless. Not to mention GO GO TALES by the one and only Abel Ferrara, who I actually saw again in broad afternoon daylight just last week. Unfathomably, he seemed just as obliterated at noon on a Friday as he'd been the week before. My new pitch for that guy is, quite simply, "THE BAD LIEUTENANT meets ARTHUR."
For some inexplicable reason, I'm really excited to see Peter Bogdanovich's four hour and thirteen minute documentary on Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. I desperately hope that it's an on-the-road document of their 1994 tour or something like that, not a comprehensive portrait of the band. As Chris Gebert said earlier tonight, it would be so much better if Bogdanovich had spent a random weekend with them and shot seven hours of footage, the result being this four hour and thirteen minute "definitive portrait of the band."
Seriously, there are too many good movies to list, but I am going to drop my NYFF Tully Awards at some point, so get ready for that. And though I tried to procure a ticket for this year's opening night party, I couldn't make it happen. But if there's anyone out there who has a plus-one--preferably a nice young lady, but at this stage I'd readjust my intrigue levels for the male persuasion--then I'm your guy. I'll be the best date you could have ever imagined. Seriously.
In other news:
Like any good mother, my mom rented COCAINE ANGEL at the Hollywood Video in Frederick, Maryland, where they have five copies in stock (are you fucking kidding me???), but it turns out the second disc was completely fucked up and unplayable. It's bad enough that the back of the box cover contains an inexcusable misspelling ("diretor Michael Tully"--sorry, Dennis Lim), if it turns out that a majority of these pressings are bunk then I will feel like a towering pile of humiliated shit. I pray that this was only a random mishap and that it won't happen again. But I pray knowing that this almost certainly isn't the case.
Speaking of technical problems, I would like to roundaboutedly apologize for the Angelika's tragically horrific technical presentation of GREAT WORLD OF SOUND this weekend. All I can say is that it reiterates my decision to try to organize a boycott of that truly shameful theater. I wisely chose to see it at Lincoln Plaza, but decided to lift my ban in order to see SILK while everyone else was watching GWOS (I had to cover it for Muze; for the record, that movie is worse than LEGENDS OF THE FALL). Of course, the entire movie was filled with big green scratch marks across the center of the screen. Afterwards, I headed to the GWOS theater, only to discover Jane Rizzo and Sophia Lin and David Wingo standing outside looking like someone had pooped their pants inside the theater. Turns out the sound was messed up. And it turns out the sound was even worse on Saturday. No offense to retarded people, but ARE YOU PEOPLE FUCKING RETARDED??? SHAME ON YOU. YOUR THEATER IS THE ENEMY OF INDEPENDENT FILMMAKERS. YOU DO NOTHING BUT RUIN THE MOVIEGOING EXPERIENCE. HIRE PEOPLE WHO HAVE AT LEAST A FRACTION OF A DEGREE OF COMPETENCE. REMEMBER WHY YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE. IT'S THE MOVIES THAT MATTER, NOT YOUR PLACE ON THE HIPSTER CHART. I HATE WHAT YOU'RE DOING TO GOOD, DECENT FILMS. WAKE UP AND DO YOUR GODDAMN JOB!
I know that today is the day that IFP begins, but I must also point out that tonight marks the night of a special sneak preview screening of SILVER JEW as part of Joe Pacheco's Brooklyn Independent screening series. 7pm at Barbes in Park Slope (6th Ave. and 9th St.). I hope to see some new and familiar faces. It'll be fun, I promise.