SPRINGS & THINGS

Palm Springs. Hot. Sunny. Gorgeous. California never ceases to amaze me.

Arrived at the airport, grabbed our bags and raced to the hotel. We had about a 50 minute window to dump our stuff and get to the theater. It was fantastic to see my family again. They’d been out here for two days already. Putting up posters, postcards, handing out key chains and the like. My brother in law, Avi surprised everyone by flying in from Vegas. My sister was wearing a big red cowboy hat with her CENTIGRADE ‘filmmakers’ badge and looked the perfect publicist/producer. My Dad had already done some interviews and Scotland, my 5 year old niece, had little ‘Centigrade’ postcards pinned all over her dress. And it was so, very, exciting. Nobody’s family is better. Nobody’s.

I quickly got a tour from my Mom of the media center and was introduced to a few filmmakers she’d been chatting up over the last few days. I then took a quick peek of the filmmakers lounge. The place was buzzing.

We made it to the theater with about 20 minutes to spare and waiting for me were some of the best friends a man can have. Rob and Brandon Stilson. Mark and Claudia Rickerby. And one of my greatest and coolest friends in the world, Scooby Sorkin.

The theater was 1/10 the size of the theater in Montreal. Perhaps a hundred or so people (I gave my seat up to a guy who didn’t have one. I just sat on the floor at the back).

But be it large or small we were ‘Sold Out’.

The program consisted of 8 films. We were 8th. And once the first film began I felt nervous. Some of them were damn good. And so, I decided then to feel complimented to even be in such company. There are some seriously good filmmakers out there.

Granted, there were one or two that made me wonder who was smoking crack when they were first accepted, but then again, what the hell do I know? As for our turn at bat, well… the sound was a bit of a mess, but nobody noticed but me. It crackled and clicked throughout. Strange. The theaters sound system certainly wasn’t cutting edge, but it played well played enough in spite of it all.

Palm Springs votes by ‘ballot’. Basically, the audience fills out a ballot that’s handed out to them as they walk in to the theater and they check off which film they thought was best etc. And I had to laugh as being the director, I was walking in and out of the theater constantly checking on things, and had to remind the older guy at the door every time, NOT to give me another ballot. I felt like an illegal alien voting Democrat.

Anyway. It was a little unfortunate that a few people left before we even got to CENTIGRADE. I think they felt the ‘Twilight Zone’ program (to which we were a part) may have gone a little long. And so, a some of them began to split. And I was dying because I wanted them to VOTE for my film!! Hell, at least vote for somebody. But finally enough did in fact stay, the whole thing wrapped up and we all headed out for a drink.

I had trouble getting a connection on my cell phone, so I couldn’t call Madison immediately. It was too bad she couldn’t make it to Palm Springs. But the money has just gotten so stupid. Time to reel it back in. She eventually called ‘me’ to say that our 3rd and final screening in Montreal was perhaps the best of the bunch.

She said there were tons of people asking her a thousand questions and that the same day there was a journalist who had mentioned CENTIGRADE as the best film in it’s category. The category of course, WORLD COMPETITION. Cross your fingers.

Anyway. So after the screening we all went out for a bite to eat and had a great laugh. Afterwards we all went to the Hilton and sat by the pool and had another great laugh. This morning I woke up, packed my bags for Vancouver and started cry. Okay. Maybe I didn’t. But it’s just been so much damn fun following this thing around. What a blessing.

And so… Now I sit upon yet another airplane and it’s hot as hell. It’s got to a thousand degrees in here. What the hell is it with these airplanes?!

I don’t believe this. The woman across from me is freezing to death. It’s like krakatoa in here and this gal is bundled up with more cotton than Osama’s granny. She’s got her blanket, my blanket, double socks and a hood. She looks like an Afghani Drivers License.

A fitting end to a fine beginning.

Look out world. Here we come.

C.