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Before we left the hotel this morning, Michael and I already knew that it was shaping up to be a fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants kind of day. I’d had a schedule in mind before I got here, but I’d been having second thoughts about many of the films on my schedule. So, over breakfast, we started making changes.
At 10:45, we met up in the hotel lobby and headed back into the heart of the insanity. The first pick of the day was Michael’s: Ingredients, a short doc about the local food movement. It was informative and interesting—but not necessarily anything new.
The best thing about our pick was that it gave us a long break before our next movie, which we used to go to Dunkin Donuts for coffee and muffins that we totally didn’t need but thoroughly enjoyed. Not only do I love the coffee at DD, but I also love the location—in a quiet hallway, where there are very few people. Though it’s just steps away from the craziness of the mall, it’s a nice place to get away. And it was wonderful to take a leisurely break there before our next movie.
Our second movie of the day was Bomber, a British family road trip movie that brought back too many memories of old family road trips. It was funny—and even touching at times—and then it completely fell apart in the end.
One of my favorite things about the festival—as Michael and I mentioned time and time again—is the collective experience of it. There’s just nothing like sitting in a theater with a bunch of people who just love movies. The crowds here are generally considerate and respectful once the movie begins. I think I’ve seen just one phone out—just once—and I haven’t had a whole lot of conversations going around me during the movies. They pay attention—and they experience everything together. They laugh. They gasp. They enjoy the whole adventure together. And, at one point during Bomber, everyone in the theater made a sound like they’d been collectively kicked in the stomach. It was a shocking moment for the movie—and one of those unforgettable film festival moments.
Next, after a quick snack (Michael) and some cold medicine (me), we were off to Movie #3—Down Terrace. It was one that I was really looking forward to seeing—but the program guide can sometimes be deceiving. Down Terrace was a British mobster movie that had its moments—but, for the most part, it just didn’t make a whole lot of sense. And I’ll admit that I couldn’t wait for it to end.
When it finally did, we decided to wander back up to the hospitality suite for a soda and some munchies. We didn’t have a ton of time, but it was so convenient just to pop up—and I hadn’t had anything but a muffin to eat since breakfast—so a few little cheese cubes and a tiny piece of fudge were just what I needed to get me through one last movie.
For the next one, Michael and I decided to split up. He wanted to see a documentary about Tibetan monks (or something like that), and I went to see Masquerades, an Algerian wedding farce (or at least that’s what the program guide called it). This time, though, the program guide was right—and it was just the fun little movie I needed on a Sunday night.
As I waited for the movie to begin, though, I thought back over the blur of the last two days since Michael showed up. He definitely hit the ground running (with our least favorite movie of the festival), and we’ve been going nearly non-stop ever since. We’ve gone from movie to movie to movie without a whole lot of time off in between. But he’s been surprisingly tough. I have to say that I’m impressed. He’s hard core—just like me (and when he comes back next year, I’m going to make him do five movies a day, like I often do).
I got out of my movie before Michael got out of his, so I took the extra time to stop by the festival store to buy my T-shirt. It’s a good thing I did, too—because the black T-shirts were running out (on Day 4!). I wandered out into the hallway then, to wait for Michael in a quieter area—but the Cavs game had just let out, and the place was even more packed than usual. Fortunately, though, we finally found each other—and we were ready to find something to eat.
Michael was dying to go to the Great Lakes Brewing Company, so we programmed it into both of our GPS units and navigated our way to…a pub that is clearly not open on Sunday night. Not knowing the city, we once again relied on our handy-dandy GPS, and we decided on a Buffalo Wild Wings—which, we figured, was a pretty safe bet. The GPS took us back down by the Tower and down to the river, to a pretty shady street that Michael was convinced looked like “a place where the mob would take you to have you whacked.” Not only that, but there was no Buffalo Wild Wings there—just a couple of seriously shady clubs. So we went right back to the drawing board—and, eventually, right back to the Tower, to the Hard Rock Café (which is two floors above the theater).
Though we could have fit in another movie tonight, it was good to sit and relax—to have a beer and some real food. We compared notes on our favorite—and least favorite—movies and laughed about our strange festival experiences before the shut down the bar around us, and it was time to head back to the hotel.
Michael is heading back home tomorrow morning—and I’ll be taking in three more movies before I end my CIFF experience for another year. I have to say that it’s strange coming here on opening weekend instead of my usual closing weekend—because it makes it so much harder to leave. At least when I’m here on closing weekend, I know that the festival is ending. I usually miss the last session of the festival—and the closing party—but I know that I’ve pretty much done all I can do. Now, however, I know that there will be six more days of festival after I leave—and it’s hard to leave when the fun is just beginning. But, alas, my time is running out. Just three more to go—and I thoroughly intend to enjoy every remaining minute here at CIFF.
Before then, though, I thoroughly intend to get a good night’s sleep—because, otherwise, that drive home tomorrow night is going to be a nightmare.
