As I'm NOT in the film studies program officially, and I didn't get a pass I was worried I might not get to see any of the shit I wanted to see. I was way off. I starred in and helped shoot Russ Roe's experimental surfing documentary Treading Water. Fortunately Russ scored two filmmaker passes, and I split some of the time of their use with Jamie Bibo, who assisted Russ greatly animating. I was also given a festival pass from a family friend, with 15 tickets to spend, of which went to get as many of my friends into screenings as possible, and this Cucalorus experience was all about friends and community, sharing the experience with my peers.
Enter The Void was an absolute brain-melt. Incestuous love was one of the film's plethora of themes, amongst drug abuse, abortion, unprotected sex, orphaned children, prostitution, and an afterlife in which disgusting traumas of past, present, and future are revisited. The culmination of the film's perversion was in a CG, intra-vaginal, ejaculation shot looking toward a thrusting phallus, ending (as in life) with the ultimate culmination. I could talk about the film for ages, and yet I think I understand the film's relevance is held in its innovation. It's, at very least, something I've never seen before. John Dilworth's retrospective-made-improv-show was fucking awesome.
I drank, I was merry, I saw a tons of shit; some I loved, some I didn't, and so it goes. A film I was in and helped produce greatly was received well, and I liked it. It felt good. Leaving Thalian on Sunday a middle-aged, small, attractive woman came up to Russ, Jamie, and myself. She recognized all of us from the film. She said she enjoyed it, more so than the larger film it opened up for, Dolphin Glide. She then said her name was Sharon Lawrence. I knew her voice, but when she told us about her career as a television actress we were all a bit taken aback. She wished us good luck in our careers and lives. We went from there to free booze and an exclusive after-party. I awkwardly made conversation with Dilworth, who seemed more intent to be introduced to young ladies than anything else. My pyromaniac alter ego took hold and I woke smelling like chimney sweep. I enjoyed one more Cucalorus, and so it goes.
