Marfa Film Festival, Sunday
I woke up later than usual Sunday morning and packed the car for my drive home that night. Why I’d thought it was a good idea to try to make the drive back to Austin at such a late hour is beyond me, but that was the plan. Since the first film wasn’t showing that day until 1:00, and I wasn’t sure I needed to see it anyways, I had considered driving to Big Bend, but decided that instead I would just enjoy a leisurely afternoon hanging out in Marfa writing. Besides, I could see Big Bend the next time I visited.
I rolled into town around 11:00 and immediately sensed a change in my environment. The hustle and bustle which had been consecutively building up since I’d first arrived had almost completely subsided, and the streets were vacant once again. I pulled into my usual parking spot (yes I have a usual parking spot), and walked over to Frama, a coffee shop which is tucked away next to Tumbleweed Laundry (seriously, why is this town so cool?). I got myself a cup of coffee and wrote a little bit, then went back to my car to grab some food for lunch. I’d just missed the first film showing at 1:00, but I wasn’t disappointed. It would give me more time to myself. I attempted to go back up to the top of town hall, but I found the door was locked, so instead I seated myself under a shady tree out front, and looked out on the lazy main street while doing some more writing.
At 3:45 I packed up and headed over to the theater to catch the two films screening at 4:00, “Live Projections,” a short, and “Vital Signs,” which was feature length. On my way to the theater I could really see how dead Marfa was now. Street vendors which had been in town all week were packing up, and I only saw a few festival goers on my walk over. Inside, the theater was no different. Ralph McKay, one of the film programmers for the festival, said it felt like the crowd was back to its usual numbers for Marfa. That was really cool actually. Watching the next two films with such a small audience, disturbed only by a quaint Q & A with the director of “Live Projections” Ethan Vogt, I was overwhelmed with a great sense of familiarity and friendliness. It was as if I were watching the films with my family, or hanging out with old friends. The charm behind the original concept for the festival, that this was just a small affair for people to come together who really enjoyed film, struck me fully. I was glad to be there, and I could sense that everyone else who was there was glad to be there too. It was a nice moment.
Afterwards we were briefly kicked out, as they had to prepare the place for the showing of the final two films, the last of which was “Red Shirley” Lou Reed’s entry. When I came back to the theater, about thirty minutes before the films were supposed to screen, I could already see that a crowd was gathering. Everyone was here to see Lou, and to see how his immeasurable talents would translate into this latest medium. Since I was early I was still able to get a good seat, set centered and towards the back of the theater. It turned out to be an ideal vantage point. From there I could easily observe everyone who filed in, and notice how these new theatergoers steadily obliterated the sense of quiet intimacy and smallness which had dominated the previous screening. This new crowd was different: sleeker, cooler, richer, and steeped in more holy hipness than I’d ever seen in my life. There was the cackling aging hippie seated directly to my right and the beautiful twentyorthirty-something whose grace was punctuated only by the tattoo on her shoulder and the flighty smile she used to disguise her insecurities. There were the young and the young-looking, and there were those whose age had clearly been dignified by all the comforts money could buy. They were all fashionable and they were all here, assembled as they were almost like the pieces of a sculpture whose only raison d’être was to be as cool as possible. I felt separated from many of them but, truthfully, we were all here for the same reason…because Lou Reed was going to be here.
Ahead of me a few rows a piece of tape was guarding several seats, obviously preserving a place for the star of the show to sit. We all waited for him to arrive, and finally he did. He moved in slowly, almost feebly, but his presence yielded an essence which impressed the crowds from coming too close. People all around him were looking at the back of his head, and so was I. “So that’s Lou Reed,” I thought. He just sat there quietly, waiting for everything to start just like the rest of us. Robin Lambaria, founder and film programmer of the Marfa Film Festival, thanked Lou for coming and then the first film began. Throughout it I was impatient, and I suspect everyone else was too. I was just itching to see the next one.
Finally Lou’s film began and I soaked it in. “On the eve of her 100th birthday Lou Reed sat down with his cousin Shirley for a tête à tête” the opening titles proclaimed (or something to this effect). I was immediately a little put off. A “tête à tête,” really? It wasn’t a conversation, but a “tête à tête”? Okay. The film basically tracks Shirley as she tells Lou about the milestones of her life beginning with where she was born (Poland), then on to her move to Canada, and then to America, how she worked in the garment district in New York City, her work with the labor unions, and finally her front row viewing of Martin Luther King Jr.’s famous speech in Washington D.C.
To be perfectly honest the film was boring. It was like watching someone else interview their great-grandmother, a great-grandmother who is not a particularly good story-teller. Shirley narrates the events essentially as I have given them above, as bland statements of fact, and the whole time I was puzzled as to why Lou chose this subject matter. There seemed to be no reason to actually make this into a film. Adding to this feeling was the fact that the film ended somewhat abruptly, so there was nothing I could really grasp onto which might act as a kind of bow being tied around the whole film, something which would give me a clue as to the overall structure holding everything together.
After the film Lou and Ralph Gibson, who actually shot the film, went down to center stage for the Q & A. Immediately everyone was made aware that this Q & A would not be like all the others we’d seen at the festival. First of all we would not be able to ask questions directly. Instead we were to write our questions on index cards which had been provided for us, and the producer would decide which questions were worth asking. I thought about writing down “Why did you think this subject matter would make for an interesting film?” but decided against it.
The first question the moderator asked was a technical question about how the film was shot, about the use of both black and white and color footage in the film. After she asked the question there was a slight pause and a disinterested look from Lou, and the moderator quickly retracted saying “or we can talk about something else if you want.” It was a moment of absurd deference. Breaking the silence Ralph decided to answer the question with some deference of his own. “Having both black and white and color footage was Lou’s idea. I also really want to bring home the point that even though I shot it, this is Lou’s film. I’m just so privileged to be working with Lou.” Lou chimed in here assuring Ralph of his value, but it was the kind of assurance that can only come from someone who is already so assured of his superiority, the kind of assurance a noble might give to someone of a lower class.
“I just want to say that we knew about every rule that comes with making a short film and we broke them all,” Lou offered, not answering anything which had been asked of him. Wow. Throughout the rest of the Q & A Lou struck me as being very defensive, both of the film, but also of Shirley. He wouldn’t respond to a question posed to him about other stories Shirley might have mentioned, saying that the film ought to stand on its own. He also took great pains to mention how wise Shirley was and how great of a subject she was for something like this film. I almost got the impression that Lou had asked to film her, judging that his personal interest in her would translate into an interesting film, and then couldn’t back out when he realized the results were less than satisfactory, out of respect for Shirley. Of course that’s all supposition.
The really interesting thing about this all though was the kind of power Lou’s celebrity seemed to bring. Everyone seemed to feel that they had to kiss Lou’s ass the whole way, and assure Lou at every moment that the film he’d made was as brilliant as anything he’d ever done. This was kind of sickening actually, and very bizarre. I mean, it’s true that Lou Reed is arguably the greatest rock n’ roll musician America has ever produced, but he’s not God. He’s just a man. And he shouldn’t get a free pass just because he’s Lou Reed. I mean, is this really what we want to promote as a culture? That once you’ve passed a certain threshold you ought to be treated like a god and are immune from criticism? That’s not right, and it’s not American. We’re supposed to be the people who are ultimately free. We’re not supposed to be so easily fooled or enamored by status that we become the lapdogs of those we admire. But here it was.
I wondered to myself what it must be like to be Lou Reed. To be surrounded by all of these people who are constantly affirming him, constantly telling him how great he is and how great everything he ever does is. What is it like to live in that vacuum of assurance? I’m sure it’s odd. But it also means that his behavior may not be as much his fault as one might think. After all, it’s the people around him that have created this world, that have created this bubble for him to live in, safe from criticism. A bubble where he’s always right. Before the films began, the moderator introduced them with two poems, one from Whitman, and one, from Lou Reed.
“I’ll be your mirror, reflect what you are, in case you don’t know.”
How ironic.
Immediately after the Q & A I left and finally made it to Austin at 4:00 AM. It was a long drive, but it didn’t feel so. The Marfa Film Festival had been everything I’d hoped and more. It surpassed my expectations in every detail. I was surprised how few films I disliked and how well the program’s films had been organized so that they ran together thematically both in individual sections and across the entire film festival. Robin Lambaria and Ralph McKay, along with everyone else who worked on the festival, truly did an extraordinary job and I’m looking forward to hopefully attending next year. But I’ll probably be back to Marfa before then. There’s still so much to see.
