First off, I would like to send a hearty congratulations to Nate Meyer and his extraordinarily gifted wife, Meagan Moses, who was awarded the Special Jury Award for Best Actress at this year's Florida Film Festival. Her performance provides the heart and soul of PRETTY IN THE FACE. It is what elevates the superficially tiny, no-budget project into a work of striking humanity and unexpected impact. It thrills me to know that other people have recognized Nate and Meagan's achievement. Way to go, Florida Film Festival!
I caught this afternoon's highly anticipated screening of Joachim Trier's REPRISE at the MOMA, and it didn't disappoint. Based on this striking, energetic, assured work, I can't wait to see what Trier comes up with next. He's got the directorial knack, that's fer sher.
Tonight, I found myself invited to an exclusive Upper West Side screening of George Ratliff's JOSHUA (thanks, Jacob). I wish I could go into more detail about why it was such a revealing experience, but for now I will only talk about the film itself, which I liked a whole, whole lot. During the viewing, the film played to me almost like a straight-up suspense thriller, yet the more that I think about it, the more I wish I'd watched it wearing my VAMPIRE'S KISS shades. There were many moments that I thought were bizarre and potentially hilarious, but I wasn't sure I was supposed to go there. Now I realize that I most certainly was. It's a truly original vision, which can be taken on many different levels. This is what I liked about it, but it is also the very thing that will make it a difficult sell. I actually think it's some hyper-smart, ultra-hilarious satire of yuppified New York City parents, and big city living in general. But it's also creepy as shit. I honestly don't know how to wrap my head around it just yet. Suffice to say, it's been only two hours since I've seen it and I'm already itching to see it again, which is as good a compliment as I can pay a film.
Tonight is a very big night at Tonic. So big that I'm DVR-ing the National Championship to check-a-check it out. Yes, you heard that correctly. After Saturday's lame Final Four, I lost a bit of enthusiasm for the final game. Though I will watch it. In all of my life, I have NEVER taped a live sporting event and watched it after-the-fact, which is in keeping with my irrational "once I start a book I have to finish it" approach to existence. But since I managed to finally conquer that demon last week (another thanks to you, Ayn Rand) I decided to get over this other hump. Or at least try. We'll see if I can get back to my apartment from the Lower East Side without hearing the result. As for the show that has taken precedence, it is none other than Louis Schefano, whose new lineup has me giddy with anticipation: Adam Franklin (Swervedriver) on bass and backing vocals, and Ryan Raffa (The Muggs) on drums. That shit is going be be a TIGHT DELIGHT. Also, Ben Crum will be playing a solo set of his Private Benjamin material, which must be heard to be believed. It's smart, funny, and controversial. Headlining the show is the Heather McIntosh-fronted The Instruments. Should be a good time. I think Louis goes on at nine, The Instruments play at ten, and Private Benjamin starts strumming and singing at eleven. Then I rush home to find out what happened in Atlanta.
I feel like I have more things to say, but I'm tired. One more day painting in Williamsburg and the job is finished. I'm not a very proud human, but I'm really thrilled with what Ben and I did with this apartment. It looks fantastic. Anyone out there in need of a paint job, drop me a line. When I'm not jetsetting and hobknobbing with indie film's elite, I'm a lowly house painter. But paying the rent painting houses means I've avoided the cubicle for one more month, which means that my life is a 100% absolute victory--or at least not a 100% absolute failure.