I rush back through the buildings and into the dark room to watch “Why We Wax” (see fig. ag) just as the Lake County leader finishes up. I see Amy sitting in the audience and then sit next to her before realizing, hey, now I'm watching it WITH the filmmaker. What if I don't like it. I can't take notes. My panic is short lived as I'm quickly engrossed in the film. It's very frank and very funny and very feminist, which despite what some folks will say, is not a turn off for me. It does tell me more than I ever wanted to know about waxing. And I needn't have worried. My only note is a smiley face next to the title. It was sweet and funny and raunchy too.
“Where are you headed now?” Amy asks me. “I'm going back to check out An Alternative to Slitting Your Wrist again, you should come.” She thinks about it, mentions that she'd have to leave immediately after that to catch her plane.
“It's woooorth iiiiit.” I say in a voice that makes me think I may be overplaying my married yet flirting hand and might quickly be sent to the corner to think about what I did.
“Yeah, let's do it.”
We slip into “Alternative” as it's playing. It's just as engrossing the second time around. I watch as Owen leaves during the abuse segment, and think about how hard that must be to know the audience is looking that deep within at that moment. White Out is only semi-autobiographical and I still grow a little hot when a particularly revealing moment comes out.
As the credits roll, Amy thanks me for dragging her to the show, and for coming to see her movie, we trade cards, she kisses my cheek and disappears into the darkness. The lights come up and Owen bounds to the front, smiles, bouncy, enthusiastic. Everything I wanted to see. He's moved past the worst of the darkness and now is able to be something more. He first bounds around the audience trying to get people to do dog tricks for candy, but then settles into a more traditional Q&A that is as frank and revealing as his film. This is an amazing person. Though I am prone to hero worship (see fig. ah) and inappropriate mini-crushes. (That one was on Amy, not Owen. Though he is a striking man. [And we're descending into a weird gray area here where it's hard to see the humorous tone due to the fact that there is no tone to be discerned via brackets in parenthesis!]) As people are leaving, he talks about having your own list.
I grab a copy of White Out from my bag and hand it to him.
“Making a movie was first on my list.” I tell him I've been there. I suffered from clinical depression in High School. It's hard to get through, but you're a better man for working through. He agrees. We talk about finding our voices once the pain is gone (something that took me a long time to do) and he gives me a copy of his film as a trade.) I shake his hand again, then Mike, Jeff and I head over to the awards ceremony.
