The approach to film
festivals and markets fall into two distinct types for filmmakers - the
celebration and the sell. Both of them tend to be gut-wrenching for different
reasons, either the anticipation of how an audience will react or the hope of
interesting future collaborators and financiers. The latter was especially true
in years gone by, before independent film began to be swamped by the age of the
streamers, a change of emphasis only accelerated during the current Covid era.
In any case, developing a project has always been just the beginning of a
tortuous journey to finally getting the final story in front of viewers.
That process eventually
gets us to the other type of festival - the invitation to screen your baby as
part of a curated schedule. I suppose some personalities enjoy the process of
revealing the film before an expectant audience in a special one-off. More
sensible people feel the tension. After all, apart from some test screenings
during the post-production process (when people gleefully tell you how better
it could have been), this is the first time the final product will be screened.
No matter that the organizers are willing the showing will be a success, there
are no guarantees.
For "Rainbow"
in 1995, we were invited to two festivals, programs for younger audiences that
are still thriving today.
In November, we took a print to Belfast for
Cinemagic. Chief memories for this trip mainly centred on the tremendous
hospitality supplied by the festival staff (that year the festival seemed to be
exclusively run by women). If helped that our director Bob Hoskins provided a
boisterous presence and the copious dinners and parties, fuelled by alcohol and impromptu Riverdance demonstrations, meant the few days were a blur
of laughter.
The other memory was the
screening itself. The opening night premiere was at the modern multi-screen MGM Cinema in Dublin Road, a theatre that first opened its doors in 1993, but was demolished in 2021. It was good to have a relatively up to date
theatre for the film, because although of course the story-telling was of
primary importance, it was also a technological first - the first all-digital
motion picture. So it deserved the best.
A packed house gathered
on a chilly November night and we were confident "Rainbow" would look
good. After all, it had been rehearsed earlier in the day with visuals and
sound balanced. We had also decided to put an added bonus on the film for special
screenings - an Overture that would play in the background as the house lights
dimmed and curtains opened. Just as the music finishes it was timed for the
first titles to appear on screen. It was a fun idea.
Unfortunately, it wasn't
designed for modern cinemas.
Before the film was shown
there was a short. A very good animated short, as I remember. Problem was that
meant the lights were already down and screen open. No turning back when
everything is automated, which resulted for "Rainbow" in two minutes
of dark with music. Never a good idea, because most people naturally thought something
had gone wrong.
(In fact, it got worse
with the release prints a few months later because somehow the Overture was
left on by the lab, causing a flood of panicky calls from cinemas, let alone
bewilderment from audiences! But the distribution was another story...)
In any case, we survived
and had a great evening with our Irish hosts. Actually, there was one other
event from the trip, a screenwriting class we held for students the following
day, which was actually quite invigorating (or at least a potent tonic for the
thumping hangover).
The second festival was
in the sunnier climes of Giffoni Valle Piana in south-west Italy during late July 1996. A well-established event, the Giffoni Film Festival is actually a
lot of fun and genuinely celebrates movies for young people in a lovely
setting. Since it had been running for twenty-five years by the time we arrived,
there was no doubting that it would be professionally run.
This time Bob couldn't be
there and instead spoke to the competition jury via video conference. However,
the hospitality was again open and generous. In fact, the relaxed,
affectionately disorganized feel should have been a red flag. One of the
aspects we had been confused about prior to arrival was how the film was to be
shown - had they prepared subtitles to show alongside the screen, or had the
Italian distributors already sent a dubbed print? Nothing prepared us for what
actually took place.
I seem to remember it
wasn't a big auditorium, although the screen was good enough. It was strange,
though, that after introductions were made, three people proceeded to gather around
a microphone just to the side of the screen, thick wads of paper in their
hands. Even when the lights went down, they remained. It started to dawn about
what was to happen, even if my mind refused to accept the concept.
The film is pure visuals
and music for the opening shots and the soundtrack boomed around the cinema - then
the first dialogue scene started and suddenly the 'performers' at the
microphone spoke the Italian translation over the English voices. After the
first moments of shock, we had to laugh, both at the craziness of the situation
and the simplicity of translation. A real live action cinema fusion.
Then the reels went out
of order.
The centrepiece rainbow
ride that transports the kids across America to Kansas was missing, which not
only made a nonsense of the narrative, it threw the intrepid Italian performers
into confusion and eventual panic. Taking it upon myself to somehow rectify the
situation, I darted to the back and into the projection booth, meaning to help
get the right reel up. Opening the door, the image is seared into my memory -
two men with cigarettes dangling from their mouths, buried beneath a mound of
celluloid spinning out into the air from sputtering projectors. The irony of our
pioneering efforts to push technical boundaries was not lost. Joining people
outside on the small town street, in the sun and cigarette smoke, the screening
was over.
A lovely outdoor evening
meal preceded the eventual awards ceremony. We couldn't blame anyone for not
recognizing our art, although one of the officials did rush over with a special
medal, either out of shame or as a mistake. We never did find out which it was.
What both screenings proved, however, is that for sensible people it's right to
be tense.
