File photo of the Arclight Lobby.

I went up to see "After the Sea," an Argentine film described in the program as "Fragments of a love story at the end of the world." And it was that. This was the movie that Carlos, the festival director, had circumspectly described to me yesterday "very artistic, if you like something artistic." Whether that was a review or a warning, it turned out to be correct. Before the film however, a couple of very lively animated shorts screened, "The Mantis Parable" and "Pulcinello," the stories of a praying mantis and drunken gondelier respectively. I poked my head into "The Chef" which seemed a competently made thriller set on a sea-going freighter, a backdrop which made me wonder why there weren't more films made on sea-going freighters. Off the top of my head, I couldn't think of any and if the movie-going public is anything like me, they could stand at least five freighter films a year.

I venture out on into the courtyard, which is still nearly empty by Arclight standards with a few lone people scattered around the concrete and glass chasm. On closer inspection however, there is something a little strange about the people out here — something stilted and nervous about their movements, they glace nervously about. I notice many are carrying either leather portfolios or FedEx envelopes. I realize I have walked unknowingly into an autograph hunters stake-out.

I approach one man sitting on the concrete ledge that wraps around the theater's exterior and ask who he is waiting for. "Dakota Fanning," he mutters, not looking at me. She is apparently, half-expected (no one seems to be absolutely sure she's coming) for the screening of the newly English-dubbed version of Hayao Miyazaki's "My Neighbor Totoro." I ask my new friend how much a Dakota Fanning autograph is worth. "I wouldn't know," he almost spits at me. "I don't sell them. I'm a collector." He tells me that he spends his weekends going out in search of celebrity autographs and the festival presents a rare opportunity where you're not behind a protective line, that is, if she doesn't go in through the secret underground entrance through the garage. "However," he concedes, "I can be a little weird running after a ten year old."

Proving his point, a few minutes later, I see from a distance a woman and a young blonde girl walking into the theater. All of a sudden someone yells, "Dakota" and pivoting on a spring action, ten middle-aged men leap half a step towards this little girl before they realize it is not Herself. The young girl and the woman, extremely freaked out by the moment, hurry inside.

After waiting a few minutes more, I walk up to a group of three twentysomethings, a slightly Goth-ish young man and two women in windbreakers. I ask if they are waiting for Dakota. "I don't give a damn about Dakota," the young man who later tells me his name is Kyle (and prefers to keep is last name secret). "I'm waiting for ----." I thought he said Brenda Fraser. "Who is she?" I ask.

"You don't know who Brendan Fraser is?" I am fearful we are about to come to blows when I assure him I do know but misheard him. Kyle tells me that he only collects autographs from two celebrities — Brendan Frasier and John Travolta. Kyle is here because the former is receiving a HFF award tomorrow night and he hopes he might show up at the screening (that hope will prove to be in vain.) He gives me a bit of insight into the various strata of signature/picture seeker society. "I'm not a collector," he says. "I'm a fan." Both collector and fan however, see themselves several rungs on the moral food chain above the paparazzi, a couple of whom they point out across the courtyard. "They are all garbage," Kyle says.

Melissa, one of Kyle's friends, points out that the inherent difference in what autograph seekers and paparazzi do is in the fact that celebrities must actively cooperate with, and therefore give tacit approval, of the autographing process for it to produce any results, whereas paparrazi just grab a picture without any cooperation or consent. Kyle points out, at another level, across the courtyard someone they call "Red Bull." "He's what we call a True Fan," I'm told. "He's at the premieres, the clubs, the restaurants. He's everywhere."

I go inside for the "Totoro" screening. Neither Dakota, nor her younger sister Elle who also provides a voice for the film appears. The screening is to a full house. Of the four Miyazaki films I've seen, I rate this second, which is to say it was totally engrossing. (The newly dubbed version is being released on DVD next year, with no theatrical run planned.) In the Q and A afterwards, I learn about what sounds like an agonizing process of trying to write translations of Japanese lines where the English will match the mouth movements of the animated characters and then making the actors read them at the same speed. Makes me glad I'm not an animation translator. I also hear from the producers that Miyazaki now prefers that his films be dubbed rather than subtitled, saying that people miss too much reading sub-titles. And, according to the director, Elle Fanning was a "real pro."

In the after party, where some sticky but not-bad-at-all pecan bars were going around (along with still-good-but-a-tier-below lemon bars and chocolate-and-raspberry bars). I meet Josh Staub who made the animated short I saw earlier, "The Mantis Parable." Josh is carrying around a oversized HFF golden trophy that must weigh close to 20 lbs. having won the festival's Best Animated Short Award. He tells me of his journey on the festival trail having won awards recently in Seattle, Winnepeg, Rhode Island and Palm Springs. A Seattle-based Art Director for Cyan Games, Staub spent 18 months creating "Mantis" at nights on his home computer. He says that for the maker of an animated short, to get into 15% of the festivals to which you submit is generally your hope. When "Mantis" was accepted to all of the first five, he trimmed back his list, only submitting to the 30-45 festivals, which, if you win, qualifies the film for the best animated short Oscar, the career making nomination for an aspiring feature film animator. Having won a serious number of awards now, up against people with gigantic budgets and huge credits behind them, Staub now awaits word of the Oscar category short list, to be announced in a month or so, while, traveling budget depleted, he'll be sending the film onto festivals without his personal escorting of it.

And thus ended the final screening night of the Festival. Tomorrow — it is on to the Gala Awards Banquet. My tuxedo stands at the ready.

Posted by Richard Rushfield at October 24, 2005 06:13 AM

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