So I have made it through yet another Cinefest. I'll admit, there were times that I thought the end would never come. I didn't get to see all the movies I blogged about in the beginning but I made a valiant effort. The stand-out favourite film still remains Run, Fat Boy, Run. I'm a sucker for British humour so no other film really stood a chance. The lowpoint of the festival had to be The Walker starring Woody Harrelson -- a film I was actually pretty jazzed about seeing because generally I'm a Woody Harrelson fan as well as Kristin Scott Thomas. It was mega-lame. This was my film review I gave at breakfast this morning that my boss insisted I blog about: It was a political thriller lacking both the thrilling and the politics. To be fair, we had thrown a party for the festival the following evening and didn't get home until 4am and then was up at 8am so the supreme level of exhaustion could have been a factor in movie enjoyment. That being said, it was still a lame movie no matter how tired you might be. Please don't ever see it because that is 2 hours of your life you will never get back. That same day we also got to catch the documentary My Kid Could Paint That which is the story about 4 year old Marla Olmstead who paints expressionist paintings that sell for upwards of $15,000 each. It was a pretty interesting story about childhood fame and scandal and the true definition of child prodigy. The jury is still out on whether or not this little girl is actually responsible for these paintings. I, for one, want to think she did them cuz I refuse to believe parents can be that scheming.
And that brought the festival to a close for me. As I mentioned earlier, we host a huge invite-only party the Saturday night for all the industry folks in town for the festival. This party is a heck of a lot of fun and is held in a pretty ridiculous place and we have to hire security to not only make sure nobody crashes the party but also to ensure that nobody dies. And that's all I say. This party results in tons o'schmoozing, plenty o'laughs, piles o'dancing and also a high number of embarrassing ticket requests. I personally never want to be any place that badly. Some do. On a sidenote -- dancing on slag is hard. Just ask my calves about their Sunday morning. They weren't happy.
I'm never more tired than I am the last Sunday of Cinefest and this year was no exception. I was so tired, I couldn't even accept an offer of free dinner at my parents' place. There was only one possible ending to last night. Deluxe Chicken On A Bun, clean pajamas, big blanket, Simpsons premiere, Family Guy premiere, bed. See you next year.
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1 comment:
You did a nice job of not saying too much about the party until you talked about dancing on it being hard!
Too Funny! Suppose most people won't get it!
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