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Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Morning after...
As many of you are aware, the grim economy finally came knocking yesterday, taking many journalists off the roster and shuttering The Circuit.
It was a great run and I thank everyone for their support and sentiments. Your emails have been overwhelming and very moving.
On the plane back from Park City I sat next to a former exec, also now without a company desk. The conversation moved to the economy, and we both commented on how easily it did.
The blossoming depression is now an inevitable part of all small talk. Hard to even call the talk small. Yet in the wake of a 70,000-plus job loss yesterday, the magnitude of what the country faces threatens to make the individual story smaller. It's important to remember the stories above this drone of newspaper statistics and bad news avalanche. The news will get worse. We'll rely on filmmakers and artists to make some sense of it all, or to at least shift our gaze. Which is frankly just as good.
And that task is the film festival's job -- to put up stories in that great black box, on that giant screen, with that enveloping sound system, and under the influence of a room full of moody strangers. All without a pause button. Film festivals are cinema's art gallery and in an economic crisis it is a cheap temple to worship at. For me, it's the best worship around.
Find me on Facebook and reach out. Or look for me in those moldy seats, or combing through the fest's pocket schedule. And if there's time between screenings, let's go outside. We'll be stunned at how much of the day we've spent in the dark. And then we'll argue about what we just saw, who will buy it, or who will market it better.
But let's not take long arguing, because there is probably a bar across the street.
And you're buying.
It was a great run and I thank everyone for their support and sentiments. Your emails have been overwhelming and very moving.
On the plane back from Park City I sat next to a former exec, also now without a company desk. The conversation moved to the economy, and we both commented on how easily it did.
The blossoming depression is now an inevitable part of all small talk. Hard to even call the talk small. Yet in the wake of a 70,000-plus job loss yesterday, the magnitude of what the country faces threatens to make the individual story smaller. It's important to remember the stories above this drone of newspaper statistics and bad news avalanche. The news will get worse. We'll rely on filmmakers and artists to make some sense of it all, or to at least shift our gaze. Which is frankly just as good.
And that task is the film festival's job -- to put up stories in that great black box, on that giant screen, with that enveloping sound system, and under the influence of a room full of moody strangers. All without a pause button. Film festivals are cinema's art gallery and in an economic crisis it is a cheap temple to worship at. For me, it's the best worship around.
Find me on Facebook and reach out. Or look for me in those moldy seats, or combing through the fest's pocket schedule. And if there's time between screenings, let's go outside. We'll be stunned at how much of the day we've spent in the dark. And then we'll argue about what we just saw, who will buy it, or who will market it better.
But let's not take long arguing, because there is probably a bar across the street.
And you're buying.
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