FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: October 10, 2003, 12:45 a.m.

Shorts Slam! Slams

BARNES PLACE (ATLANTA, GEORGIA) - Having never been to a Shorts Slam!, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. But entering Image Film and Video's "Gong Show" of short films was a free way to spend an evening. The crowd would cheer if they liked, boo if they didn't, at which point, the movie would be stopped, sending the filmmaker home rejected. I figured if the crowd got halfway through my movie ("There was a Clogging", a visual documentary short about a clogging festival), I'd be doing well. After all, I didn't create it with a film festival, or a particular audience, in mind, and I'm not a film student. I just created it because I could.

When the first film played through its entire twelve minutes without a hiss, and without a boo, my hopes elevated. Apparently, the audience was numb to bad dialogue, shoddy camera work, terrible audio, and, above all, bad acting.

There is a very real chance, I thought to myself, I could win this thing, which was not a commentary on the outstanding quality of my film, rather, the lack of, on the part of the other entries. I tried to talk myself down as I viewed the competition, which, at times, was painful to watch.

In hindsight, had my film had bad camera work, bad sound, a horrible plot, and bad acting, it might have hung in there. Instead, people stared blankly at the screen. About sixty seconds into it, a herd towards the front started booing, which sounded, more appropriately, like mooing. This sparked a counter cheer from the other side of the room, which settled the initial rustling.

Wait until they get to the thigh sequence, I thought to myself. If we can just hang in to the thigh sequence, then I'll bring it home with a big thigh finish. I was channeling all the love Lady Vodka could muster to the entire room as I sucked down my Cape Cod.

I saw the thighs grow on the screen. I breathed for the first time in two minutes and fifteen seconds. We made it, I thought. However, the flapping thighs seduced supporters into an awesome trance, and someone in the back yelled, "Where's the plot?" With that, the cheers succumbed to the growing heard of cattle from the upper right. As the credits were about to roll, the herd went on a stampede, releasing its carnage, trampling my movie and me with it. Oh, the humanity.

Confused, bloody and bruised, one expects to be treated this way by corporate America. Not by a community of artisans working to convey the essence and meaning of life.

But of all the films played that night, mine was the only one that created a discourse between true connoisseurs of short films and short film wannabes. At no point was there one person willing to stand up and boo alone. And when a few rabble-rousers mustered the courage to boo collectively, others stepped forward to cheer and defend a different sort of short.

"The important thing is you did it. You entered your film," said my partner Tony in his 'I'm supporting you now' voice.

"Yeah, right. Tell that to the beauty queen who got second." At least in beauty pageants, there is an attempt at nobility, where they call losers "First Runner Up", just one step above "First Place Loser."

Before I could sulk away with my videotape, several people approached me. They wanted to know what I shot the movie with, how I created the old-film look effect, and what my other films were like. All of them surprised when I revealed a digital camera and my iMac. One gentleman even asked if he could perform in my next movie. "I don't have plots," I said. "I'll help you make one," he said.

In the car on the way home, consolation prize in hand, the evening came into focus. Standing at the back of the room all night, there wasn't another filmmaker approached after their screening in the way I was. My movie and the conflict a flick about clogging created accomplished more than any other that night. Folks pondered the merits of a short film. Does it need a plot? Does it need dialogue? Does it have to be created by a film student? And maybe a short film is just that, a short snippet, capturing a moment. A space. A time. An essence. In that sense, my movie was the clear winner, and I think I'll be entering my movie and others like it again.

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