Ebert Fest 2013: The Start

While I have been consumed all week with the horrible news from Boston and Watertown (so many family and friends there), I am here at Ebert Fest in the beautiful college town of Urbana, and it has been a stimulating and emotional event so far, especially so soon after the passing of Roger Ebert. His presence is palpable at the festival. He is talked about constantly. Every guest, every visiting director, every critic, has some Roger-related story, and it seems very cathartic and important to keep talking about him, especially here. Chaz Ebert has been an incredible Master of Ceremonies, and on the first night of the Festival when she first walked onto the stage at the gorgeous Virginia Theatre, the emotion in the room was visceral. Many of the people in that audience know her, knew Roger, or at least had been coming to the festival since its inception. The community is very proud of the festival, emotionally and financially invested in it, and the entire event has such a warm family-like atmosphere, which was one of Roger’s goals.

Chaz Ebert, wearing one of Roger’s long scarves, said on that first night, in conclusion, “And I want to thank you all …. for giving me someplace to be this week.” It was an extraordinary moment. As bittersweet as it is having him not be here, of course it must go on, and it will go on, and it is the best tribute possible, to have the vibrant and stimulating film festival that he created, in his hometown, at his alma mater, to continue.

My mother accompanied me on the trip and it has been an adventure and a half. Yesterday was particularly amusing, involving a torrential downpour (that lasted all day), ruined umbrellas, scarfed-down sandwiches in between screenings, and poor Mum, who didn’t have a ticket, having to wait in line under a tent as the rain poured down above her. I kept calling her from inside. “Mum? Where you at now?” “Still in the tent. I’m making friends.” It was hilarious. She also got Haskell Wexler’s autograph, but I’ll get to that. It’s been a lot of fun traveling with Mum, and the accommodations are incredible. All festival VIP guests are being put up at the hotel at the student union, which is fantastic. It’s right on campus, a gorgeous building, with all sorts of lounges, where the panel discussions have been taking place. Our room is cozy and we have settled in as though we are never going to leave. Upon walking into the room, I immediately saw that a gift basket and gift bag had been left for me, welcoming me to the Fest, with all kinds of goodies, a VIP pass, a programs, and one of Roger Ebert’s books, a coffee mug, a T-shirt, and delicious snacks beautifully wrapped. It was so exciting to be a part of this festival at this level. Mum and I oohed and ahhed over the Swag for a bit. I felt very welcomed.

The first night, I attended the gala reception at the President’s house. It was a beautiful sunset, with lush green athletic fields, and magnolia trees in bloom. There were a ton of people there, many of the sponsors who help make the festival possible, as well as all of us writers and festival guests. The President of the University stood in the foyer to greet us with his wife, and Chaz Ebert stood between them. It was a wonderful sort of receiving-line format, which helped with introductions (and, again, made me feel welcome). The President and his wife were lovely, and Chaz was amazing. I told her I was very sorry for her loss, and she said Thank you but then immediately asked me for my name again. I told her, and then said, “I write for Roger? He just hired me …” And the light dawned on her face and she said, “Oh! So many people have been telling me to look for your writing.” It was one of those moments when I had to seriously let go of my nerves, and my social shyness, and get the hell into the moment, because this was important and I didn’t want to miss it. I said, “Really?” She said, “Yes! Roger told me you were a beautiful writer and to make sure to look for your stuff.” I felt goosebumps explode over me spontaneously and I confided in Chaz, “I have goosebumps right now.” You know, just narrating my life as it happens. It was what you might call a Major Moment. She held onto my hand the entire time, and then turned to introduce me to the President’s wife.

This is not meant to be some sort of official dispatch. If you read me, you know what I’m about. I’m always in my writing, and while I am capable of leaving myself out of it and being more official, that’s not what this particular piece will be about (not entirely, anyway).

As I said in my piece about Roger Ebert, one of the qualities about him that is so unique, and one of the things I will miss the most, is his inability to be “over” anything. He had seen Citizen Kane countless times, Casablanca, others, and was never “over” it. He loved sharing his enthusiasm with others. He could certainly be harsh towards films, and it often brought out his humor, but he did not operate from a place of contempt, which is a trap that far too many critics seem to fall into. They see too much, they write too much, who knows what the problem is. I don’t really care. I don’t read such people. Life is too short.

And so Ebert is an example to me, like so many others. I am not “over” being here at the Festival, I am not “over” the excitement of being welcomed into this family, and I take none of it for granted. Due to social anxieties, I have to force myself to be present emotionally (especially when I am walking into a party where I know no one), and Chaz, in her warm enthusiastic and personalized welcome, helped me really keep my feet on the ground, and really enter the space. I might have floated around unconnected for the entire gala event if she hadn’t pulled me in so specifically.

This year’s Ebert Fest is dedicated to legendary cinematographer Haskell Wexler, who is alive and well at 91 years of age, and is here at the festival. What a treat! I was in the presence of a legend, the man who was responsible for the look and feel of some of my favorite images ever caught on film. What an artist! He was there at the gala, and it was so touching and cool to see him standing out in the garden giving an interview to what looked like a student at the university. All around was the chatter of the party, people eating food, drinking, talking, and over on the little walkway snaking through the green, this quiet conversation was taking place between a man and a young woman, with 70 years age-gap between them. But she was listening intently, nodding at what he said, and he was gesturing and thoughtful. I didn’t hear a word that they said. I just watched the conversation unfold like a beautiful pantomime. Again, I felt so lucky to be there … in that particular moment … the green grass, the respectful soft conversation between a legend and a college student. Here we can connect.

Speaking of Haskell Wexler, the first night saw the screening of Days of Heaven, directed by Terrence Malick. I’ve seen the film a bunch, own it, have written about it, but I always felt that I never saw it the way it was meant to be seen: on a gigantic screen, like the one at the Virginia Theatre. The cinematographer for Days of Heaven was Néstor Almendros, and there’s that odd little credit about “additional photography by Haskell Wexler”. There is, of course, a story behind that credit, and we got to hear a lot about it at the QA with Wexler following the film.

Before Days of Heaven, a short film called “I Remember”, directed by Grace Wang, was screened. Wang is a beautiful writer and one of Roger Ebert’s “Far-Flung Correspondents”. It is her first film, a short, and she made a speech beforehand about her relationship with Roger (probably not a dry eye in the house), and how when she got the first copy of her film in her hands, she took a picture of it and sent it to Roger with the words, “I am having a moment.” This was a couple of days before he passed, and he did not respond as quickly as he normally would have in the past. When he did respond, all he wrote was, “A moment for a lifetime.”

Wang’s film was lyrical and very sad, shot with no budget, but beautifully conceived and realized. A girl folds laundry in her dark apartment. The shirts lie in a crumpled mess on the bed. A clock ticks on the dresser. A glass stands on the windowsill, alongside a couple of shells. As the film progresses, we get overhead shots of the ice slowly melting to nothingness in the cup, a beautiful visual choice to give us the sense of time passing, and of dissolve. When a relationship ends, what are you left with? The memories, sure. But the memories are not a comfort when the heartbreak is new. A romantic moment on a seashore, entwining fingers in the sand around a couple of shells, is poignant, and yet the way Wang keeps cutting to the image of the girls’ fingers in the sand, is jarring. Memories intrude. They wreck your inner peace. You are left bereft. What we remember can comfort us, it can also haunt. Wang’s film is short, but it has all of that meditative space in it. Roger Ebert was a big fan of Wang’s writing, and chose her film to open his festival. I cannot even imagine what a privilege that must have been for her, and it was an emotional and perfect opener.

And I Remember was a perfect opener for Days of Heaven, come to think of it, because the entirety of Days of Heaven could be seen as occurring in the vast plains of the memory. The voiceover (a key element in all Malick’s films) is used in a way that can only be described as unique. If you have seen the movie, you will know what I am talking about. The voiceover sounds as if it is coming from another time, first of all, as though it is an interview taken around a campfire in the middle of the Panhandle. But it also sounds as though it is coming from a deeply subconscious place: the person giving the narration is both aware and un-aware. She is in the moment with her memories, and the script does not worry about being too articulate. She’ll trail off after a sentence with, “… and stuff like that …” It sounds meditative, contemplative, like a person musing over something deep in her past. And yet the voice itself is young. It’s my favorite use of voiceover in all of film. Because voiceover can be deadly. It can be condescending, unnecessary, over-explanatory, or, worse, arch, in some way. The voiceover in Days of Heaven is dreamy. Literally. We are in the present, the future, and the past, all at the same time.

It was something else seeing that spectacular cinematography projected so large. It is breathtaking, unforgettable images. And the acting has a pared-down quality. We are just peeking in on these moments, essentially. Nothing is highlighted or underlined. In the fight that opens the film, between Richard Gere and his boss, we don’t even hear the dialogue, even though we see both men in closeup. We just know a confrontation is taking place. It doesn’t matter what people say. The emotions are clear. So there again, it feels like we are both in the present and in the future, looking back, when we see a scene like that. In memory, we don’t remember things in a linear way. “He said this, then I said this.” In memory, it’s usually captured in the senses. We remember how hot it was that day, or how the guys’ face looked, and the noises around us. Without making a precious point of it, Days of Heaven resides in that otherworldly “we are here and also this was a long time ago” place. I would say that that strange overall effect (very emotional in nature) is even more obvious when seen on a giant screen in a packed movie house, with a silent watching crowd. What we are seeing is not only a personal memory of this young girl, but a collective memory of a part of American history. Here is what we did, here is how we lived, here is what was normal. It’s not a history lesson. History, too, often resides in what one might call the collective unconscious. Days of Heaven is a perfect example of how that can operate.

And boy that locusts scene is gross, and so well done and frightening. In the QA later, someone asked about how they got that effect of the locusts filling the sky. Wexler answered that they dropped coffee beans from a hovering helicopter, and then ran the footage in reverse.

I love artists. I have seen Days of Heaven a dozen times, and I will see it a dozen more, and even though now I know those are coffee beans flying in reverse I will still see a swarm of locusts blacking out the sun.

Superb problem-solving and innovative film-making. The effect, in the end, is entirely real. Like, no-question-about-it real.

There is more to say. We are, after all, four days in. I have seen some phenomenal films and met some great people. Long day today. A panel in the morning on the video essay (which I will be speaking on), and then four films. A marathon of art.