Festival Fatigue

I should have known better than to pick up the phone on deadline day, but now it was too late, and I was stuck on the line with a publicist - a publicist I hadn't even heard of - who was excitedly pitching me a brand-new film festival. The El Segundo International Film Festival ... or maybe it was Monrovia ... somewhere like that.

"We have 23 premieres! Films from 32 countries! A star-studded tribute to Whit Bissell, who once spent the night here! There'll be catered crullers and Peet's Coffee in the media hospitality suite! I'm sure you can find space for some coverage."

I did a rough calculation in my head: the number of pages in the film section, minus the number of new releases opening that week, multiplied by the money constant (my budget, converted into kroner, divided by one thousand). For some unknown reason, the answer came out in furlongs per fortnight, so I had to factor in Planck's constant and convert the result into a number representing the quantum probability that adequate space and human resources might materialize to cover the ES - (or was it M?) - IFF.

The answer, unsurprisingly, was zero.

Despite his fawning assurances that he loved CityBeat more than the L.A. Weekly ... more than the L.A. Times ... more than Life itself ... despite his intimations that, without our cooperation, shame would descend upon the festival and his family, and he would have to commit seppuku, I bade him farewell. Even as I gently hung up the phone, I could hear a grim metallic noise on the other end, as disemboweling blade met grindstone.

But the fact is: Southern California in general and Los Angeles in particular simply have too many damned film festivals.

Once upon a time, when I was still young, naive, and enthusiastic, it was easy to cover all the local festivals: there barely were any. First there was Filmex, founded in 1971 amid great skepticism: After all, how could crass, commercial L.A. support anything as artsy as a film festival? Filmex burned brightly before it burned itself out in the mid-'80s, turning, after a brief hiatus, into AFI Fest.

Around that time, another major event started up: OutFest, the Los Angeles Gay & Lesbian Film Festival, which, as you might guess, programmed films touching, in one way or another, on homosexuality. Ten years after that came the Los Angeles Independent Film Festival, which later teamed up with IFP/West and then dropped the "Independent" to become the Los Angeles Film Festival. (From here on, we'll just abbreviate Film Festival, okay?)

So ... three major events a year, each about a week and a half: that's manageable. Plus a bunch of ethnically defined things, like the Latino FF and the Pan African FF.

But, somewhere along the way, more and more festivals started popping up, until there weren't enough weeks in the year for all of them. The dates started conflicting.

A bunch of them are tied either to a single foreign country and/or that country's local immigrant population: the Russian Nights Festival; the Israel FF; the Hungarian FF; France's City of Lights, City of Angels; Indian, Polish, and Nigerian FFs. Some cast a wider net: The aforementioned Latino and Pan African FFs, and more recently the Visual Communications Asian American FF. (There's even an ethnicity/sexual orientation two-fer: Fusion, the Los Angeles LGBT People of Color FF.)

Far be it from me to begrudge anyone the chance to bask proudly in the reflected glow of cinema affirming their pride in identity. But I do begrudge the apparent necessity for every neighborhood in Los Angeles and Orange counties to hold its own film festival. Sure, it seemed inevitable that someone would start a Hollywood FF, and I probably should have seen the Beverly Hills FF coming down the pike, but could anyone have predicted the Long Beach International? The Silver Lake FF? The Valley International Film Festival? Santa Monica? Century City? Westwood? Malibu?

And going yet farther: Newport Beach? Big Bear? Lake Arrowhead? Temecula?

Then there are festivals that are basically indie-film showcases, with no other real defining criterion - Dances with Films, Method Fest, the Foundation for the Advancement of Independent Films (FAIF) FF.

And yet others are organized around a specific technology: toy cameras (the ongoing PXL This series), digital video (Resfest), screen size (70mm FF), and image depth (3-D FF - a one-off event, sad to say).

There are political themefests: Films about the environment (Green Reel FF). Films about torture (Amnesty International FF). Films in favor of progressive causes (Artivist FF). Films that hate progressive causes (Liberty FF).

There are festivals for the spirit (City of the Angels FF) and festivals for the flesh (Pornothon).

There are festivals for getting scared - Screamfest, Creepfest, and Shriekfest. And for getting depressed - The Nihilist International Film Festival. Festivals for the ADD set - the L.A. Short FF - and for the reality-based community - the National Geographic All Roads FF, DocFest, DOCtoberfest.

There are, in short, festivals organized around anything you can think of and some things you couldn't think of. There are festivals organized around nothing at all.

Then there are all those events at UCLA, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, and the American Cinematheque that usually have the word "festival" in the title, though, being part of an organization's ongoing programming, maybe we shouldn't count them: things like the Festival of Preservation, the annual Mods and Rockers series, the Japanese Outlaw Masters series.

I'm all for letting a thousand flowers bloom or - more aptly, I guess - letting there be a thousand points of projected light.

But, for a look at the inevitable down side, let's consider this past April: The two Cinematheque locations had the 7th Annual Festival of Film Noir and a series of Croatian films, running at exactly the same time as Method Fest. Overlapping all three were the Italian FF, the Beverly Hills FF, and the Malibu FF. They in turn overlapped the City of Lights, City of Angels, which overlapped the Artivist FF, the Indian FF, and the Polish FF. Those hadn't yet ended when UCLA started its Contemporary Mainland Chinese Films series and then its New Taiwanese series, both of which ran concurrently with the L.A. Harbor FF and the Visual Communication Asian American FF.

It's great that there is so much to choose from; it's frustrating that so many one-time-only screenings are all happening at the same time. In particular - given that there is such a thing as an Asian-film-buff community in L.A. - you have to wonder whose idea it was to program Indian, Chinese, and Taiwanese films in the same three-week period as L.A.'s largest Asian American festival. Wouldn't they all have sold more tickets if they weren't competing with each other?

In fact, how can so many festivals survive in a limited marketplace?

Some of them are subsidized; the national festivals in particular are often arranged or funded by the local consular office.

But, as one anonymous person on the exhibitor side has pointed out, even some of the freeform fests aren't really supported by ticket sales. "There may be a limited number of potential viewers, but there's an unlimited number of desperate filmmakers," says the source. "Let's say they've been rejected at Sundance; now they're working their way down the list, from event to event. The entry fees for some indie fests can go a long way to keeping an organization afloat. The filmmakers get their stuff shown in L.A., where they might just catch the eye of a critic or a distributor. And at least they can say they were chosen for an L.A. festival. Everybody's happy ... except maybe the audience."

What with cheap digital video and even digital projection - doing away with the considerable expense of striking a print - we are seeing the total democratization of cinema. That's great, but, as Donald Rumsfeld once said during a brief lucid moment, "Democracy is messy." The good news is: Everyone with the desire can now make a film. The bad news is: Everyone with the desire can now make a film. The worse news: most of them are.

Which means that the signal-to-noise ratio, the wheat-to-chaff balance, is getting worse. Twenty years ago, there were about 250 films a year released in Los Angeles; now, there are more than twice that number. And that's not counting these festival screenings. By sheer odds, more production means a higher number of good films per year; but, with the lowering of the requirements, the bad stuff increases at a greater rate than the good stuff. The overall percentage is dropping.

This endless supply of "product" is at least one reason for the festival boom.

How much longer can the growth go on? There must be a limit. But we haven't seen it yet.

To get a sense of what we can expect in the first half of 2006, I applied a statistical analysis of my own design to the current output, involving Fourier transforms, the Lorentz-FitzGerald contraction, and the Schartz-Metterklume method, yielding a startling projection of the future, detailing not only next year's film festivals, but also the unrevealed minutes of Dick Cheney's Energy Task Force meetings, the exact moment of the Rapture (hint: it already happened, and this is just an illusion), and Jessica Alba's unlisted number.

Unfortunately, I misplaced all that, so I took a bunch of drugs and made up a completely imaginary and possibly worthless roster, accompanied by equally unreliable descriptions.

JANUARY

The Festival of Films Film Festival. Organizers of this new event promise "films and more films...and then, just when you think it's over, yet more films. Watch 'til you puke!" Details not yet available. Consult your local listings for details.

Films Shown in the L.A. County Morgue. Wanting to extend their screenings beyond the summer, Cinespia - the group that brought you outdoor shows at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery - has arranged to use Autopsy Room D for the duration of the winter. Limited snack bar: avoid the cold cuts. The opening film? You guessed it: D.O.A.

Cudahy-Vernon International Film Festival. More than 50 features, most never before shown ... well, not in Cudahy or Vernon, anyway.

InFest. Taking its cue from the continued success of OutFest, InFest is a smaller affair. Most of the screenings will be held in the utility closets at the Sunset 5. According to head programmer John ... er, John ... Smith! ... that's it, John Smith, highlights include the inspirational sports story So ... How About Them Dodgers?; the fantasy farce I'm Just a Straight Guy (Who Likes to Sleep with Other Straight Guys); and the thriller No, Really, You Must Have Me Confused with Someone Else. The Roy Cohn Lifetime Achievement Award will be presented to Rick Santorum (not that you should draw any inferences from that).

Turkmenistan: The New Wave. For years, the Turkmenistani film industry was concentrated in Ashgabat, but since the '90s new voices have emerged from as far away as Atamyrat and Dasoguz. Six of the nine films on hand relate the exploits of President for Life Saparmurat Niyazov (a.k.a. Turkmenbashi). Of greatest interest is Chill! (Prenkash Turkmenbashi Beranyi!, literally The Frozen Water That Eternally Glorifies the Beloved Hero Turkmenbashi), a lavish musical (costing more than two million manats) detailing his construction of a giant ice palace in the middle of the desert. (Note: last year's event was canceled after threats from Kirghyz and Uzbek terrorists. Caution is advised.)

FEBRUARY

InAndOutFest. Films for fans of grilled beef patties slathered with mayonnaise, and festooned with lettuce, tomato, and onion. In addition to the main program, there will be sidebars dealing with assorted condiments and deep-fried strips of potato.

1-D Film Festival. Highlights include Spot, Singularity, and Vertex. None dare call it pointless.

ScaredShitlessFest. If the fare at Screamfest doesn't really get your heart rate going anymore, move up to the next level.

MildlyDiscomfitingFest. On the other hand, if Screamfest causes blood to spurt from your ears, you might try this concurrently running exhibition of horror films guaranteed to make your hair just lie there.

The Jack Abramoff Hawaiian Gardens International Film Festival. Underwritten by the respected lobbyist, this marks the first time the oddly named little South Bay community has attempted this sort of cultural event ... or, in fact, any sort of cultural event. The entire schedule consists of repeated screenings of Martin Scorsese's Casino. Be sure to check out the free drinks. Try to pull anything slick, and you'll win free tickets to the Sleeps with Fishes Festival.

MARCH

4-D Film Fest. New technology allows viewers to experience every frame of the movie simultaneously by positioning the seats at a right angle to all three spatial axes - height, breadth, and depth. Don't worry about the schedule: At any given moment, all the films are starting, stopping, and running in their entirety.

Mulholland Dog Park Film Festival. All Benji, all the time. Be sure to fetch tickets in advance.

VD Fest. Thanks to a dyslexic printer, what was supposed to be a showcase of productions shot on digital video will instead be limited to those shot on a film emulsion made entirely of the Treponema pallidum spirochete and Neisseria gonorrheae, suspended in bodily fluids that you really don't want me to go into more detail about, honest.

APRIL

FestusFest. James Arness summons the ghosts of Milburn Stone and Amanda Blake to pay tribute to the late Ken Curtis (who is scheduled to appear, ectoplasmic materialization permitting).

The Buttonwillow FF. Actually, this one doesn't exist. I just like saying "Buttonwillow."

Meth Fest '06. Endless, rambling dialogue and incoherent story structure mark most of the entries in this new event, whose name is slightly inaccurate, as the films were produced under the influence of a number of different stimulants. The snack bar will sell Coke and coffee, but no food, because, I don't know, man, I just don't seem to have any appetite.

Last Look Festival. In contrast to the First Look Fest, the films herein are so bad that the directors have decided to burn them. But before they do, the organizers of Last Look have convinced them to endure the humiliation of one final public exposure of their wretched, worthless tripe. If you have the slightest interest in seeing any of them, you better seize the day! Bring rotting vegetables and a brain full of dismissive expletives.

MAY

Brittany Fest. Debuting last year, this sampling of Breton-language productions from northwestern France was a surprise sellout, largely because of the faulty literacy of Britney Spears fans. Attendance expectations have been running even higher for 2006, since the announcement that last year's "Films of Nantes" sidebar has been replaced by "Films of Brest."

BreakFest. Two eggs, poached, on toast, side of bacon.

XRAY This! Sure, CAT-scan and MRI machines are "higher-tech," but the old-fashioned Roentgen design produces a smokier, less detailed image with its own unique charm. A growing number of amateur and indie filmmakers have chosen to embrace and celebrate its limitations. Titles include Unidentified Respiratory Obstruction, My Lumpona, Revenge of the Cyst, Almost Squamous, and A Love Song for Bobby's Lung.

City of Blights, City of Angels. Los Angeles welcomes the resolute filmmakers from our sister city, Baghdad, who have indefatigably continued to produce explosive work, undeterred by the loss of electricity, any semblance of sanitation, and (in some cases) limbs. Where there's a Kurd, there's a way!

The Albertsons-at-the-Corner-of-Washington-and-Corinth-Aisle-3-Near-the-Snack-Nuts Midnight FF. Could be promising if someone would get the stock boy to turn down that damned boombox.

The Ninth Annual Yeast-Is-Yeast-and-Fest-Is Fest. Films about, and for, pesky microorganisms. Your bare skin ... the odd-smelling seats: never the twain shall meet, if you've any sense at all.

JUNE

DockFest. Last year's edition was all abuzz over Steve Adore's pierless Whatever Happened to Wharf 32?

Whatsup DocFest. In its first year, this portion of the Coachella Valley Carrot Festival was a catastrophe. Reorganization was promised, but it appears that curator E. Fudd still hasn't managed to get the bugs out.

DocDocFest. International filmmakers look at 21st-century medical practitioners.

DocFestFest. A dozen different feature-length views of last year's DocFest.

FestFestFest. Filmmakers film filmmakers filming filmmakers.

DocDocDoc. Ya gotta help me! The pain ... the pain ... ! Ya gotta make it stop! Please: for the love of God, make it stop.