¡ Abre Sus Ojos!

So much has happened. Now in a parallel universe. perhaps it was the Large Hadron Collider?
Birds do not have magnetic GPS systems (nor do salmon)... they live in one year long time loops, so for them, there is only ever one journey, generation to generation.
Come back here for more unproven and unprovable theories.
Anyway, to business: looks like HAL has set up in the camera design business.

This is home.





As you can see, I adhere to the maxim, "Beauty shall be convulsive, or not at all".

Cloture

This is a tricky one, but not really.
The festival is over, many great encounters, late night conversations, some good films, and interesting talks. What more could you ask for? A prize? Hardly.
But there's the rub. The closing night left a rather bad taste in the mouth, as not only were the actual awards, hmm, political (though some good films in there) but the (remarkably) mis-managed range of awards missed an opportunity to give a nod and a wink to art, artists and the 'international' component.
This is NOT any accusation of corruption or deal making, it's just a huge disappointment with the scope of IMAGINATION and awareness of what a festival could be and what this festival in particular SHOULD have been, namely a sincere but modest open door - a first try - with a lot of encouragement and, of course, more attention to those close to home.
But what happened?
If you had found yourself in the closing banquet in the splendid Dwor Polsk, free food and drinks for all courtesy of TVP, and general rollicking good humour, you would have seen one table of dark dressed jury members and TVP luminaries (Translator's note: lampposts) and another, more alcoholized table, symbolically further down, of filmmakers and musicians.
There were no sour grapes, but a sense of wasted opportunity. the reason? The prizes.
With the exception of Agnieszka Holland (more later) the four jury members (all very nice and personable people) were ALSO producers of some of the films in competition. perhaps it's really inevitable in the first volet of such an undertaking.
How unfortunate, then, that three of the five prizes were given to productions overseen by jury members.
How many of the others have co-production deals I would like to know. Any information welcome.
Like Ricky Gervais might say, 'Are they having a larf?'

Go onto the Prix Visionica website for full details.

Fiction: produced by TVP
Documentary: produced by independent Swedish producer (!)
Theatre: produced by Polish independent producer
Music/dance: produced by Dutch company headed by jury member
intermezzo: independent Austrian producer

So far so good, you say... what's wrong with that?

Here it comes, a number of smaller 'special awards' were announced. A chance to give that nod and wink to those outside the circle (perhaps to the Israeli filmmaker who had flown from tel Aviv, or to the young Polish/german director who paid his own way there, or to the Finnish director who braved three days of strikes by SAS.. or...)
Polish Film Institute award to three (three!!!) films by arte - jury member is head of arte
another award to TVP Kultura
then an extra special small award (a cheque, actually) to a Russian independent producer

Jury member Alexandr Wlasow, of Telekanal Kultura, (a lovely bloke, by the way) presented an award to an (absent) Chinese filmmaker. Ah, international at last.

Surely these special awards (with or without cheques) should be used as teasers for the way the festival intends to move forward? It was a little queasy making to see the jury members walking around the banquet clutching 'their awards. It was a huge missed opportunity to step slightly out of the local framework.

Verdict: must try harder next time.'

Later in the evening, Agnieszka Holland came down and sat with the by now rather raucous directors and was funny and gracious.

Now it's Sunday. The festival is over. To quote My Dylan/Zimmerman again 'anyone with any sense had already left town'
So it goes.

See you next time.
In Berlin.

Week Ending

The underground secret barroom.

Not a swimming pool, but the rippled glass bar.

Almost killed getting this shot of a passing tram.

And this is an old Soviet film projected in the main square. Took me twenty minutes to get a shot of Cyrillic intertitles, hope you appreciate 'em.

Lots of photos today - of last night.
I feel I'm at my best when griping, and frankly it's been mostly good experiences this week, so it was nice to allow some irony to creep in last night, as ever, ignoring Mr. Zimmerman's advice, 'simply that one should not be where one does not belong', viz a nightclub at midnight.
the pictures show it filtered through (one) pina Colada and (one) jameson's and (one) Zywiec.
I sat up on the balcony lonesome for an hour wondering why no-one was there yet. then I noticed a whole troupe of bald men going downstairs to the toilet... and not coming back. Was it that sort of club? Or was there a secret room in the basement?
Turns out the latter. the party was in full swing. This took me back to 1974 (I kid you not) which was the last time bouncers had looked me up and down and refised me entrance to a club. So great to be young again. I went upstairs to the festival assistant Judita, who was ever so embarrassed and rushed downstairs to correct things. they wouldn't let her in either. My first loss of temper in Poland, i told the bouncer that the club had 'shitty organization'. Yes, my Polish stretches to that. All the other expressions would have got me beaten up.
But I got in, somewhat deflated, as in the Dylan quote, and went home to sleep.
Foto impressions above of club Novacaina. Not recommended for its friendliness.
There, I've been negative now, I feel better.

Overload

So, no photos because I seem incapable of carrying the right cables around with me, or else this may be some kind of gap in the fabric of the universe (another one) which doesn't allow three things to exist in the same place at the same time (no, four, as of course I myself am included in this experiment) - camera, computer, cable and author. You can have any three.
Days of conferences and encounters, mostly with fellow filmmakers, distributors, authorities on media... I keep joining conversations with very nice people, and at the end I ask why they are here... it's nearly always a competition judge, so i am forced to take back the drinks I have offered them, retract all the nice comments and stop stroking their arms. One must not try to influence the judges, eh? Well, we can all go and get kaylayed after the ceremony.
Some tetchy comments on new media, finally a young fellow called Grant Bremner (no relation to Rory or Billy I presume) stated the obvious: interactive does not mean choosing or selecting times, or swapping device (TV, puter, mobile phone) it means VIEWER'S BECOME AUTHORS. he runs BBC Archive project and is slowly (as an experiment) making all of the BBC archives available for download and modification... or as he sloganised it: rip, mix and share. Bloody BBC, just when you think it's over!

OK this is all a bit on-topic and serious, so here's a Polish joke:

'What would you do if you had all the time in the world?'
"I'd sit and think"
OK, what would you do if you didn't have time?'
"I'd just sit".

Good night.

When Your Techne Goes Bad

What do you do when the colours bleach? When the sound booms? When little bits of lego which you did not film suddenly appear between the stripes and blurs of digital and non-digital drop out?
What you do is leave the hall and stare out of the window being philosophical. here's a picture of the rooftops of Wroclaw being philosophical. Nice, innit?
So today, I attended a conference on creativity in new media, all of which words really should be in inverted commas in a post-modern sense. Some interesting people and some interesting anecdotes but it's obvious that we are in a transitional epoch where old clothes are being sold in new bags. I mean, there's no interactivity if all you can do is choose where to shop/sample/click... like the American idea of freedom being full shelves in Wal-Mart. Ok I'll shut up, this is Kultur after all. Not a cheap pair of socks from China (or Saipan).
Then met Herr Olaf from arte and watched his jolly presentation of rather strict economic reality for a semi-public station with only about 4% of an audience share in France, a little more in germany. Interestingly, he kept a truly optimistic and stoical attitude. this is the man who invented and still fights for Soirees Thematiques, so kudos to Olaf.

What else? Met a young Polish producer from London who has set up a new internet site / collective / distribution concept. Go to www.bulletfilm.com to see before evn I do. A filmmaker's reaction to YouTube?

Today's little irony: Had wonderful impromptu chats with two people, then learned they are jurors in the festival so i am not allowed to talk to them until after the deliberation. Luckily I was wearing my false beard and a dress, so they won't recognize me.

O, until tomorrow then.

Just Work

Today it's conferences on creativity in the new media.
I don't think there is much, so that won't take long.
Long discussions last night about HDTV, lack of professionalism in the technical side, great filmmakers we have known (Ken Morse was named) and other trainspotty things. Not the best way to pick up women, but there you go. Must be getting old. Even passed on the free cocktails and settled for a pint of Zywiec instead. I really am hopeless. But today I shall schmooze. Pan Krzsztof is here, and at the colloque, and no doubt other luminaries (lampshades?) will arrive.
Here above is a snap from the World premiere of Mirand'a, attended by almost 1,000 people. (Editor's note: a recount revealed 14 people). It appears the action is all in the conference hall (famous filmmakers speaking) and the after hours bar NOVOCAINA. Ah well, two bowls of black bean soup and some alka seltzer will get me through. It's hard being an international celebrity. (Editor's note: he probably means 'celery')

Stuck in the Pipeline

Here’s a condensation of the past days’ frantic running trying to get a reliable compatible internet connection which could somehow fit with the 6 hour lag.
Life is ironic, of course, and we must try to be gracious. In two hours we have the world premiere of Mirand’a… people seem fascinated by what it could be, but how many spectators will turn up? I dunno. The website isn’t up yet, partly because of the sheer complexity of it all, and the timelags inherent in meeting international deadlines (what is ‘tomorrow’ exactly?). But we will see. As ever, the main difference between Lumiere and Melies is the showman’s ability. Can I bluff and blag the fact that my ‘50% internet’ project is currently without internet?
Let us see. Anyway, it is auspicious that Sam Beckett is the star above the whole enterprise.

Wish me luck.

After numerous technical itches all seems to be well. Good job I brought those star-head screwdrivers to re-jig my Mac. Yesterday, all hope having been lost, I snuck into Helios to watch ‘Sunshine’… always did like whiteness. But it’s true, Danny Boyle realized that when making space sci-fi, you are stuck behind ‘2001’, ‘Solaris’ and ‘Alien’. That Cillan Murphy, though… good stuff.

Now for the previous day’s exertions:
What a to-do… apart from the usual strangeness caused by jetlag, I am also feeling an odd out-of-body sensation by being suddenly back in a town I know well, but without any of the usual contacts. Viz – I am always with my family here, and usually nominally ‘on vacation’ whereas now I am in a nice wee flat (courtesy of Rafal) and nominally ‘on business’. Anyway, having discovered that my iPod indeed does have an alarm function, and having risen at 9 a.m. (read three in the morning) I find the town deserted, very little evidence of the festival (am I in a Dennis Hopper film?) and generally nothing works (phone, computer, eyes). Still, I hope to surmount all these annoyances soon, and if you are reading this, it means I have done so. As to the pictures, cunningly imported last night, they are the usual scenes of grandeur and desolation found in airports, those places for wealthy vagrants, yes, oxymoronic as it sounds, there’s a cosmetic equality there, with huge Indian families and fresh faced backpackers mixing cheek by jowl with emigrants and business folk. Perforce stuck in the same holes, waiting, waiting. And the lovely efforts made to erect barriers, however temporary with First Class, Business Class and Coach (coach?? Is that a code for cockroach?) and even, now, in the airports themselves, little walled off areas known as ‘clubs’… downstairs, McDonalds next to Bulgari. Buy something expensive and useless for the people you don’t care about… seen as you’re stuck here anyway. Love airports. As you can see, I have been perfecting my shock-haired, wild-eyed look. Would you buy a used concept off this man? And a few signs, and the inevitable security breach (Stop photographing planes or they’ll confiscate your camera). All pretty clear, I guess. Thank you LOT.
The only question I have is, ‘What is Vladimir Putin doing in Warsaw airport?’.
Answers on a postcard, please.
Had a short, smart haircut at the Frysjer on Plac Nowy Targ – zl. 15 ($4), now I’m going to Bazylia and the student canteen zl 9 ($2.50). Profligate, moi?

Fifteen Minutes of Fame

Well, this is all out of order thanks to time loops caused by internet access failures and etc etc. just had my first (well, second, if you count being on Granada TV in 1974) TV show... pontificating about the function of television and culture for TVP3. A potential audience of 38 million. Ah, the power. Now that's over, off for food and the official world premiere of Mirand'a. How many will be there? Will I get a limo? Roses? Or stand at the back in the dark along with three trainspotters and the ushers. Either will do. Exciting report to follow later.

JF & K

That was an old Smokey Robinson song, wasn't it?
Here I am logged into the concourse wireless at NY Airport. Tired, waiting to take off for Warszawa and then loop back to Wroclaw for the Prix Visionica Festival. Though I have my camera with me, I have cunningly left the cable in my luggage, so cannot download a photo just yet. And, of course you will remember, the camera in the computer gave up the ghost a year ago, for no apparent reason.
the end of the world may be nigh though... hang on a bit... I have re-found one of those lost small things which John the revalator sings (?) about in his book. To wit: the white thingy from my computer which went missing last summer. Found in a zip pocket in another bag. Ah, mysteries.
What am I hoping for in Poland?
To meet some people and make some headway with Mirand'a. perhaps I should talk to two new persons a day (as IKEA catalogues recommend)? Or at least prowl the streets like a madman, waving Mirand'a bookmarks at other strangers.
Why a bookmark? In a typically inspired leap of advertising... it's a film, so let's pretend it's a book. it's a dvd, let's make believe it's a vinyl record.
As ever , we go in search of the perfect empty set of A/\B = 0.
Tired, a long day behind, and a long night ahead, listeniong to what De Seung Sa Nim (I kid you not) called the Om of an airplane's jets. Automatic meditation.
And the turbulence when these night flights cross the dawn line somewhere over Greenland.
Fear of flying? It used to be that take off gave me white knuckles, but life has grown so permanently and wondrously stressful that take off lifts the responsibilities off my shoulders for a few hours and I relax.
Funny.
More tomorrow, or later if I get insomnia.