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Ah, day 10 of the
Festival. That day where you fill every possible second of your day
by rushing movies you wouldn't consider seeing otherwise.
Case
in point: I'm typing this from the cheap seats at the AMC where I am
about to watch Sunshine
Barry and the Disco Worms. The
fact that I'm here without a four-year-old in tow (like everyone else
apparently) is a testament to...Well, I'm not really sure what it
says about me at this point, except perhaps that it's indicative of a
desire to see, on film, the disco-dancing earthworms that I've been
hallucinating due to lack of sleep.
Yes
folks, it's been an exhausting festival. I'm nowhere close to my
fellow blogger Sanjay's record of 50-something movies this week, but
I think it may be time to let you in on a secret: Sanjay is a cyborg.
I've spent hours in rush lines for Synecdoche,
New York
and Slumdog
Millionaire,
I jumped out of my seat and popped for Randy “The Ram” in The
Wrestler,
I admittedly slept through a good bit of Plastic
City,
and most importantly, I rode the Red Bull like it was the Calgary
Stampede and attended almost every Midnight Madness screening on
offer – throwing beachballs, corralling zombies and the Japanese
media, and being completely and utterly disturbed by Martyrs.
Does this sound like a cry for help from a desperate film junkie yet?
Well maybe it is but for most of us, Monday means that we go back to
work or school, leaving behind this week of pure escapsim for the
real world. To everyone involved with the Festival, from the
programmers to the filmmakers to the wonderful staff to the horde of
my fellow volunteers, I thank you, and I'll see you all next year.
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