The Screening

Apologies for the shitty title but it's all I could come up with. My insistence on starting every title in the Mythicman blog with The something-or-other seems to crossed over to infect this blog.

So, if you've been paying attention, I went to a lot of effort and nervousness and heartache over something called The Trasharama a go go film festival. IT was my first ever entry into a film fest, and I was incredibly nervous about it as i anticipated the release of the final shortlist. I was also incredibly gutted when my film didn't make it in. Oh well, I thought, I guess it just wasn't up to the standard of film they were expecting. I'll try harder next year, I thought. Lousy, mother fucking, tasteless cunts, I thought.

One of the upsides of entering was that I got a free pass to go to the screening of the final films. There were only two in Sydney, one at the Paddington RSL, which apparently, only 8 people showed up for. The second was at a place called Mu Messons in Annandale. They are some sort of independent, obscure, small time movie house. There's a lot of way's to describe them, but the easiest and most descriptive is to say some "non conformist", which translates to mean pretentious, inner city toss pots stuck up a sheet and some lawn furniture in their attic and show movies that don't got shown anywhere else simply because no one want to see the damn things. I would have missed the damn place if I didn't see a bunch of guys mulling about the bottom of the stairs with trasharama T-shirt's on who were passing a dooche on the left hand side.

So, after going in, and getting through the confusion of "Free ticket", I found a seat close to the screen and got comfy, waiting for the films to commence. While I was waiting, they showed a trailer for an upcoming feature they were going to present, from the Great Insert-name-I've-never-heard-of. If this guy is "great", then I'll quite happily settle for mediocrity. The film seemed to consist of some overly fat guy eating, puking, fake blood, pissing off dogs, proving himself to be a loser and getting berated by everyone he passes. Then it's revealed to be the auto biography of the director. This is the life these clowns are aspiring too? Jesus.

Enough with the preliminaries, and on to the main event. The films finally started, after of course having to listen to the owner of the venue slagging off Greater Union with every second breath, which makes me think "Ex-Employee", and then the obligatory speech by the creator of Tropfest. He demonstrated his dedication to his festival by showing a tattoo of the Trasharma zombie cheerleader character across his entire back. HE stuttered, rambled, lost his place, shared a few private jokes with his Entourage, and then finally shut the fuck up long enough to let them start the films. The first one was called, I think, Rabbit rage. It was about a guy who was being stalked and haunted in his house by a pet rabbit. In all honesty, I've seen worse. But then things took an abrupt downhill slide. The next one was called Money Shot, which was a 15 sec, stop motion animated porno that ended with, you guessed it, a Money Shot! The wasn't anything after that that really upped the ante - or the quality for that matter. One film was called the day I got Sacked, which just consisted of a guy being beaten up by a giant cartoon pair of testicles.

I swear, I'm not making this shit up.

One film was just a couple of action figures moved about in front of the camera wit shitty cardboard sets. Another was a just a drag show with a gore screen. Another was a rip off or Re-animator. The only reason I could come up with for my film not making it through is that it was good! I actually put a bit of effort into my film, which, I'm sure If I read the fine print I would have seen it, is not something that is appreciated in this Fest.

When Intermission finally came around, I was half tempted to make a run for it. No, I thought, I'll give it a chance, maybe all the good ones are in the second half. Damn me for my optimistic ways. All in all, the entire night was shit. I just kept thinking how glad I was that Tony and Vanessa didn't come along, because they would have had to have paid, and Tony I know would have made a scene trying to get his money back.

About the only thing I got out of the night was the realisation that I never want to waste my time making another film for Trasharama. Which actually really shits me, because there just doesn't seem to be a film festival anywhere around that cater to my interests in film making. I can't stick my head far enough up my own ass to be considered for Tropfest, yet I actually endeavour to make my films as high quality and entertaining as I can, which means I'll never be considered for Trasharama.

Useless pricks.