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We’ve reached the end. Six days in Palm Springs looking at a hundred or more short films. The judges now have to sit down and parse out who will get the awards. Some judges are better at this than others. Notes I took as one of those jurors in 2000 at the Palm Springs International Short Film Festival. 

Judges Attend The Annual Service At Westminster Abbey To Mark The Start Of The UK Legal Year

Aug. 6

Today is judgment day.

We met as groups in the Festival office beginning at 9 a.m. Jack and I sat in one booth with a VCR. Sharon and Andy took the conference room. Selise and Norman took the larger office.

Jack and I had already discussed out choices for documentary the evening before, so we had a good idea where we were going. But Jack, very generously had gone and viewed my choice for documentary another time.

“I looked at Esther, Baby and Me one more time this morning,” he said. “And I’m willing to change my mind on it. I’ll agree it is a documentary. It’s not a traditional one, but it does examine the filmmaker’s state of mind during his wife’s pregnancy, and although he gave her lines to learn and perform, I guess that is the only way you could film it.”

esther the baby and me 4

Note from 2016 — Decide for yourself; See Louis Taylor’s Esther, Baby and Me: https://vimeo.com/39118601

Jack surprised me several times with his generosity and willingness to consider other points of view.

Indeed, during the juroring process, he was always willing to negotiate and bargain and compromise. I take that as a sign of a very good juror. I also was willing to compromise. I think it’s the only way to do it successfully.

At any rate, we got through our choices in about a half hour and it only took that long because we stopped to view one of the films another time.

I conceded his first choice for documentary — The Sunshine, a straight documentary about the bums living in a Bowery flophouse — and he accepted Esther, Baby and Me as the second prize winner.

For Live Action 15 minutes and under, we both agreed on This Guy is Falling, although, if he had wanted to argue the point, he might have said it wasn’t really live action, since all the sets and backgrounds were computer generated. He didn’t so argue.

this guy is falling fire extinguisher

Note from 2016 — the film by Michael Horowitz and Gareth Smith explores what happens if the gravity switch is accidentally turned off. See This Guy is Falling: https://vimeo.com/347702

Our previous first choice, Echo, about a pair of holocaust survivors, one blind, the other deaf, fell gracefully into second place. Done.

In the conference room, Andy and Sharon had twice as many categories to go through: all the student films. It took them about an hour and they were done, too, with no rancor.

We waited and waited. I went out to the car and got a book. We watched a few favorite videos while waiting for Selise and Norman.

At one point, Fred Linch came into the booth with two videos.

“I’m going to have to cast a tie-breaking vote,” he said.

As head of jury, that was his job, although in six years of the festival, he had never had to actually do such a thing before. He watched two animations and finally made a choice. We heard a few grumbles from the office where Selise and Norman were arguing.

Another hour goes by. Fred comes in with another two films to cast another tie-breaker.

The voting was supposed to last from 9 to 11, if necessary. It took till 2 in the afternoon, because Norman and Selise didn’t know how to compromise and negotiate. They were both stubborn, although, as we found out later, it was mostly Norman who was the horse’s ass.

During the full-jury session to pick “Best of the Fest” from our selections, Norman blocked us, slowed us down and vacillated constantly.

“No, wait. Did I vote for Edge of Dusk? I meant to vote for … no wait, what were the choices?”

There were three choices, but he kept wanting to open it up to others, although no one else would have voted for them anyway, making the issue moot.

Over and over, Norman split hairs, argued points — all meaningless — and made us vote and revote. His notes were a salad of scrap paper with scribblings, in no particular order, so when he wanted to consult them, it would take him forever to find the note he needed, and then when he found it, it was no longer the point he was trying to make.

We were all pretty well exasperated by him, but finally drew the thing to a close.

Each judge was permitted to give one award to any film he wanted, no questions asked. Six “special merit” awards.

I gave mine to Titler, for the category, “Offensive in the Most Memorable Way.” In it a transvestite Hitler sings wildly obscene songs in various industrial settings. Note from 2016 — You can find it on You Tube, but I feel good taste and discretion recommends I not post it here.

After the five of us had done that, Norman came up with three possible merit awards and couldn’t make up his mind — more precisely, he couldn’t remember what they were. He shuffled notes, voted for one picture, changed his mind, no, wait, he went back the the first choice, but then, no, he found a third film and went with it, but wasn’t sure. We were beginning to form a lynch group.

Then Fred asked if there were any other films we should consider.

“I’ll allow up to two more merit awards, if you think they deserve it. But only two. I’ll leave the room and you decide what you want.

I nominated Tex, the Passive Aggressive Gunfighter. Everyone agreed it deserved an award.

Note from 2016 — Tex, The Passive Aggressive Gunslinger, by Brian Sawyer, features Bob Balaban as the deadly desperado who never needs to draw his gun. See Tex: https://vimeo.com/14837389

tex 3

Sharon nominated a slender little slapstick animation film. Norman had three or four — he couldn’t make up his mind which.

Selise joined in. One of Norman’s films was a socially aware film about child abuse. As she was an officer in the group called Women in Film, she jumped right on it.

When Fred came back, we wound up having to vote to see which of the films would get the awards. Tex came in first, so he passed.

To make Selise happy (we didn’t care about Norman), we agreed to give an award to the child abuse film. Sharon was very upset, because, she said, “No one understands animation. This film is very good. I know how hard it was to do it. Awwwwwww.”

Jack jumped to it.

“I’m going to change my choice. For my unchallengable choice for a merit award, I’m going to go with Sharon’s animation. My film already won another award.”

Here he was again, building consensus. Sharon was very mollified.

So, that is how it all ended. The best film didn’t win best of show, but the film that did win was very good. Jack and I had bartered and were satisfied with our awards. I managed to squeeze a special award in for Titler, Andy and Sharon were happy with their choices, and Fred’s choices for Norman and Selise’s two first-place awards were perfectly acceptable.

That is the way it is as a juror. You hope to come out not being embarrassed by the jury’s choices. We did. If the best films in any one juror’s opinion didn’t prevail, at least the second choices of all averaged out and we all came away satisfied.

Even Norman was finally satisfied.

Day 3 at the Palm Springs International Short Film Festival in AD 2000, and the jurors are beginning to be a little bleary-eyed. 

eyes have it

Aug. 3

By the end of the day, I’ve seen a cumulative total of 56 movies.

The process is interesting. The first day, you have nothing against which to judge the movies you see. You don’t know if the film that was pretty good is in fact the best movie of the festival, or if it will turn out to be in the bottom half.

By the second day, you’re beginning to get a good idea what the general run of film is going to be like. And by the end of the day, the deluge of film is beginning to blur together into a single gigantic epic instead of a machine gun of individual shorts. The similarities link together and you see all the pretty, ambitious, miniskirted, black haired, shoulder-padded career women turn into a single type. All the scruffy, unbathed, snotty-nosed begging children turn into a single caricature. All the rock-playing, layabout, scraggle-haired skinny boyfriends become one.

I have sat in a dark theater from 8:30 in the morning and on some days, don’t get out of the dark until nearly midnight. The crowd is mostly insiders — filmmakers and distributors — and they applaud each others’ efforts so no film goes unappreciated. When the maker of one of the screened films is present, he or she is introduced before the program begins and asked to make a few appropriate comments. Most thank their mothers.

The way the judging is set up, we have three pairs of jurors. Two handle all the student films. The next two handle the animation and all the films longer than 15 minutes. Finally, Fred Ofield and I handle all the documentaries and all the live action films under 15 minutes.

The 250 movies entered in the festival are screened in the main theater in programs of 6 to 8 or 9 films in 90 to 120 minute segments, each attendable by the ticket purchasing audience as if it were a single feature.

The programs are built around themes. One program features children, another features gay themes, another looks at crime films. One program is ghost stories and another is experimental. That means that films from each of the five categories (student, animation, documentary, more and less than 15 minutes) show up in each program, making it necessary for all the jurors to attend all the programs.

Luckily, there is a way around this problem, and the problem of overlapping programs, when we cannot be in two theaters at once. That is that we can view videos of the films in the Festival office.

The very first afternoon, we had to set up a dozen or so videos, just to catch up with the films shown the first day, before the jurors actually arrived.

Today, we looked at another 9 films trying to catch up with stuff we couldn’t get to, and even at that, we didn’t finish before closing time. We did manage to see the videos of the films that would be shown tonight, so we worked it to get an evening off. We’re getting worn.

There have been a healthy number of bad films. A few so bad that me and Fred would look at each other and silently hold our fingers to our noses.

“That one was a complete waste of film,” I said of one.

When I mentioned to fellow juror Norman Gerard that his category, with the longer than 15 minute live-action films, seemed to have better films than our category, he just said, “grass is greener.”

I’m sure he had his turkeys, too.

Yet, the level of proficiency has been quite high. Few films suffer from technical incompetence. Most look gorgeous.

The problems are not generally technical, but a lack of something to say. All that technique is used to imitate the cliches of Hollywood, or used for a good idea that the filmmaker never takes anywhere. It dies on the vine.

There were some good lines in the films.

A small girl at a train station watching the odd behavior of the people around her says, “Deep down, there’s an explanation for everything. Trouble is, you can never get deep down.”

An aging blond model is asked about how full her clothes closet is and says, “I don’t change my clothes, they change me.”

In another film a former drug dealer and ex con becomes a father and tells us, “I was the poster child for the anti-father, and I’ve always kind of liked that about myself.” He changes.

A woman who lives in Japan for a few months is bewildered by the culture and its contradictions and hypocrisies, and finally decides she is limited to “seeing through the keyhole that is my own experience.”

Another woman’s idea of excitement is the “high-risk perfectly executed one-nighter.”

There is a good deal of cleverness and wit in these films, although too many of them peter out in the second half. And considering they are all under 15 minutes, that is a mighty quick petering. Interesting set up, no payoff.

Seeing the videos all afternoon freed us up to travel around Palm Springs in the evening.  There are a gracious plenty plastic surgery offices in town. Some cosmetic dentistry, too. And at least one office that promised “biological age reversal.” Whatever that is.

As far as the city goes, it is almost like a science fiction movie. Palm Springs in August is a ghost town. Shops are closed, restaurants are closed. We have trouble finding a place to eat. The Hyatt Regency, where we are staying (at the Festival’s expense) is empty. We can walk around the lobby and listen to the great hollowness.

palm springs hyatt

Yet, at every Festival event, the people ooze from the woodworks. Hundreds show up for the screenings. Hundreds hang around the “Hospitality suite” in the shopping center, where filmmakers hawk their films to the industry. And on Thursday evening, Palm Canyon Road is decked out in a street fair, with food booths, rides, radio station promos and craft tents. Thousands of people walk up and down the pavement getting temporary tattoos and eating tacos and ice cream cones. Bands play music and kids take pony rides. Where did all these people come from? This afternoon, you could have shot a bazooka down mains street and not have injured a fly.

It is almost like a Twilight Zone episode, the transition is so mysterious. Ghost town — bustle and hustle. Where do they go in the daytime: Shopping centers are closed. The shopping mall next to the hotel is vacant. We walked up and down the street on Tuesday evening trying to find a place to buy some bottled water, and everything was closed up. It was like a university campus during spring break.

Tomorrow, we’re scheduled to begin looking at films at 8:30 a.m. The question now is if we’ll be able to survive the next 50 films.