Saturday “White Out” is screening at the Lake County Film Festival, but we’re actually on a lake, with the screen floating way out. The audience, which includes my first girlfriend (who is, ironically, Mike’s older sister) is floating in innertubes. As the screen floats further and further away, the audio gets quieter and quieter. Mike screams “We can’t HEAR YOU!” over and over to no avail. That’s when the sharks show up...
“It’s a Life” (track two on The Truman Show original soundtrack) plays, waking me up. I stare at the ceiling. It’s early. VERY early. Andrea, my beautiful wife, jams her elbow into my side and I turn off the alarm. It’s time to go. I swing by and pick Mike up for another long drive up to Grayslake.
We arrive 45 minutes before the screening and go into campaign mode: pressing the flesh, handing out postcards, setting them in the main festival room, then head down to the filmmakers lounge for some breakfast. The muffins are great. The cookies even better. And there's promise of pizza yet to come. The lounge is manned by Juliet who chides us for not joining the filmmakers for the after party yesterday. “Open bar, guys, open bar!” (see fig. n) We promise to join in the festivities tonight and sit in the vestibule in front of the Crown Plaza room. This is the theater room we watched Last Stop for Paul in last night, the nicest room of the festival. We’re very excited.
fig. n
“Jonny C!” I call, as I see my star Jonathan C. Legat descend towards us. I thrust postcards into his hands and tell him to be shameless. “You spelled my name wrong.” He points out. Indeed we had. Johnathan instead of Jonathan. Mike accepts full responsibility as my proofreader. I point out that at least people can finally see his face instead of just the back of his head. This seems to sate Jon who begins passing out the postcards saying, “Come see my movie.”
We move into the screening room, joined by Jon’s lovely fiancée Amanda Jayne Polley, Jeff Green (casting director, remember?), and my muse, the gorgeous Michelle Higgins, wrapped in a bright green trench coat that seems tailor-made for flashing. I point out that she should take off her pants to complete the illusion that she is a flasher. Michelle gives me the look that she always reserves for me when I say something off color, derogatory or even complimentary. Then she sticks out her tongue.
fig. o
White Out screens with “Ménage À Trios,” an adorable short by Kimberly M. Wetherell about Brandon’s desperate attempts to propose to girlfriend, Lindsay, before he leaves for Paris. He’s constantly interrupted by unfolding telephone drama from people calling the new phone he bought her. The actors are delightful, the color scheme perky and light and the overall tone of the film warms the cockles of your heart. (Yes, that’s right, I’ve used the word "cockles" twice. How you like ‘dem apples?)
As far as we can tell when White Out begins, there are only three people besides our motley crew in the theater. A pair of men down the row from us who seem to enjoy it thoroughly and a woman back two rows and to our left who appears far too polite to be entertained by my filthy film. Then, about ten minutes in, we hear the first level of the theater begin to laugh. After that it’s smooth sailing for the rest of the film. We can’t see anyone in the audience below, but they’re there. It’s a unique experience, screening your film for the first time with a general audience not made up of invited guests, and it’s the kind of thing that invigorates the body and soul. Makes you want to make movies again. Mike and I quickly make plans to meet next weekend to discuss our summer project.
