embarassment at the film fest

I went to the movies by myself yesterday.
Cinderella Man: Not as cheesy as I anticipated. Russel Crowe, who I normally can’t stand, exhibited a quiet dignity as James J Braddock, the Bulldog of Bergen. Usually I find Crowe to be a tediously arrogant performer- a Mel Gibson for the ’00s if you will. But in Cinderella Man he is understated and powerful. His face looks sort of smooshed and weathered, and he flashes this adorable 3 Stooges-type smile from time to time that is totally endearing. Paul Giamatti’s performance is also spot-on. Clean shaven and confident he is the man we all want in our corner. There is none of his trademark whining and self-indulgence. Renee Zellwegger (sp?) was mildly disappointing. I’m usually a fan, but this time around her whispery voice and perpetually pursed lips were a little much. Watching such a well made film about the Great Depression really got me thinking. I mean, our country is so incredibly mismanaged. Whe have a national debt that is upwards of seven trillion dollars, our industrial and technological jobs are being outsourced at an alarming rate, we have a rapidly growing roster of enemies, our public school system is struggling, environmental regulations are being bulldozed, social services are being slashed, and interest rates are beginning to rise. How long before the weight of the administration’s recklessness topples us? How high can we go before we crash?
After the movie I hit Ladies Poker Night at The Other Liz’s house. Erin, Kirsten, Nicole, Liz and I played (my favorite group!). I won ten dollars! Two full houses in a row plus a couple other decent hands brought me the big money.
After that I headed to Holocene for the One Minute Film Festival. The place was packed. There were fifty films playing in two rooms. Mine was number 27. I was nervous and excited. Mike, Josh and Freddy of UrbanHonking came out to support me, which was such a nice surprise, and a lot of my other friends were there as well. Three films into it I began to wish that no one had turned up. All of the other movies were either funny, ironic, or abstract. Mine was one of maybe three earnest films, and the only one with voice-over. In context I’m afraid it seemed sacchrine. I got a lot of positive feedback afterward, but I’m secretly sure that people were cringing for me on the inside. I still like my film a lot, I just don’t think it fit in very well with the others.
After the films were over there was a dance party. Steve Walsh was the DJ, and he played all of our favorite hits. After such nerves and embarassment I was ready to let loose. I spun and bounced. I slid and shimmied. I two-stepped with Katie and did the grind with Suzy. There was a cute boy who was shaking it like a pro. I asked around and found out that he had made my favorite one minute film. I winked at him and he waved. I told one of my girlfriends I thought he was cute, and she came out with a plethora or stories about him that sort of dampened my enthusiasm. I hate Portland sometimes! This town is too small. Any time I talk about liking a boy there is someone who knows his ex, or heard a story, or thinks he’s creepy. When are friendly cautions warrented, and when are they just too much? I mean, of course I want to know if someone I like is dangerous, but do I really want to know he’s anal or whiny or sort of weird before I even talk to him? It’s hard to resist listening to this kind of gossip, and yet I’m sure there’s plenty of it about me out there (‘don’t kiss willow, she’ll blog about it’, maybe?). I guess it doesn’t matter, since I’m retired from the rebound (or trying to be).
Today i’m going to a Naked Ladies Party, where everyone brings unwanted clothes to be thrown in a pile and picked through by ladies drinking wine. I have a huge bag full of give-aways. I hope I snag something good.