Just A Stitch in Your Hitching Post

Deep in the throes of an interdisciplinary research project through Northwestern, and dually exiting the non-academic, unproductive tunnel that so often is Spring Break spent in Michigan, I am irrefutably ready to return to bustle of the big city. Or, rather, the undeniable nearness of the big city -- what with being in Evanston and all. Nonetheless, nine days spent in Michigan has come as a welcome respite from just about everything -- if I've done only a single thing of worth since coming to Michigan, it's been catching up on sleep and proverbial time lost throughout Winter Quarter at NU -- in one show, asst. directing another and taking 5 classes.

In reality, I've done much more than simply slumber. I planned out my Senior year at Northwestern, with the intent to graduate one quarter early -- in other words, almost exactly one year from the present. It's baffling, not frightening, to think that four years of undergraduate education is only a year away from being finished, but then onward and upwards to better things -- likely graduate school, but I don't know quite where as of yet. We'll see. But mostly over the break, I've neglected my research project -- I needed a bit of a break from it to rethink, refocus and reenergize and now I think I'm ready to go.

In terms of my research project, I am using a theory steeped in the principles of live theatrical events (called "liveness") to inform research on the subject of lost or disappeared cinema. As a case study for the project, I am using a film entitled Catch My Soul which was released originally in 1974 and was directed by Patrick McGoohan, star of the BBC show The Prisoner, which may be familiar to some; others, not so much. The film is a rock musical adaptation of William Shakespeare's Othello set at a hippie religious commune in the deserts of Santa Fe, New Mexico -- and, here's the kicker, it's been missing for over thirty years.


The project has two ends, ostensibly -- or perhaps it is better to say two goals. Whichever. The first is to define how a 21st audience, in the digital age, engages (or creates a mirrored engagement) with an absence art object (ie. the film negative or the acetate print. Essentially, I am asking what precisely must be present for an audience or individual to have "seen" the film. This is a process of engaging with the remnants of the films, its memory and memorabilia. The second goal, which need not necessarily be fulfilled, is to find a single remaining print of the film. The emphasis on this second part is tertiary to the first, hence its placement as second.

As Adam Savage, co-host of Mythbusters, said in a recent talk on his own search for rare objects: "achieving the end of the exercise was never the point of the exercise to begin with." And that's the truth of it. I started my research with this philosophy in mind on January 18th, 2009 and, safe to say, was pleased to hear that someone as well-known as Savage was going about things in precisely the same way -- the only difference is that his search is for something rare and mine is for something which everyone tells me no longer exists, which ups the anty.

In late April, I will be traveling to the University of Notre Dame to present a work-in-progress version of my current research on Catch My Soul and I am additionally hoping to be awarded a summer research grant in order to travel and conduct the expensive ends of my research -- and have ample time to do so.

Over the next several months, especially if I am award the grant, I'll be transforming this blog into something of an abridged research journal and also possibly make use of Twitter, should there be an interest among peers and other parties to keep informed on the process of my research. After all, the process of the exercise is the most entertaining part of it all.

Peter Sellars Knows The World's Secrets

As Peter Sellars entered the TFF Student Symposium classroom, a 'zone of coolness' was ushered in with him. That's right. A zone of coolness.

'Coolness' is Sellars' term for a person's aura, their vibe, the energy with which they greet the world; admittedly, this all might sound like a thrust towards bizarre new age philosophies and hippie hoopla, but let's run with it for a while. Let me convince you that Peter Sellars is the most loving, well-intentioned human being one may ever come to know -- Peter Sellars knows the world's secrets and he wants to share them with everyone.

It is not so much that Sellars has uncovered hidden relics or mysteries of human history, but that he has realized evident truths which not everyone is conscious of. Much like Ken Burns' philosophy on film, Sellars pays specific heed to the personal as a window into both a universal understanding and the underlying truth of who we are or are meant to be.

Film, like life, is all about framing -- in the frame, you choose what fits and what doesn't fit. A frame is that through which things are felt, experienced and understood. In Sellars' mind, developing a film is about coaxing its substance out from your nocturnal (ie. subconscious) self and presenting it in the daylight (ie. out in the open). It is about focusing on making what is personal to you, the director and filmmaker, accessible to everyone else -- it is about establishing a dialogue based on the personal which translates to the universal.

Sellars champions experiential knowledge over academic knowledge -- this is to say purely that he is more interested in what is written on a person's heart than on a piece of paper or in a book. As equal part inspiration and mentor, he cites the French philosopher Simone Weil. Sellars' claims that Weil once said something to the tune of 'work (meaning process) is what gives life meaning.' It is not thereby the end result that is the most satisfying, but the journey of getting there that is the true treasure. How true.

Sellars' main point, then, is about finding yourself and staying true to yourself by living actively in the process of life, accomplishing what you set out for yourself and being who you want to be. To this effect, Sellars said something remarkably poignant, that I don't think I will ever forget, if only because it struck such a chord with me personally.

"It's when you're in a miserable state in your life that you really realize what it is you want and who you really are -- also, you realize how to come to that ideal place." -- Peter Sellars (08/29/08)

I don't necessarily want to step up onto my own little soapbox here, but damn it all if Sellars' sentiment here doesn't ring gloriously true for me in my life. But, to a certain extent, I understand what Sellars is saying here based on personal experience. It is the reason the year 2008 was so far different from 2007 -- change needed to be made, and it is still happening. Thank goodness.

Sellars told us that the 21st Century is all about connecting, about being connected, about democratizing not only our technology but our lives in their entirety. He talked about the "gaze that goes both ways," which for Sellars means Darshon, a Buddhist principle of seeing God and having him see you back. For me, I interpreted this as the kinesthetic ability for response in live performance, the ability of performer and spectator to see one another, to be present in the same space at the same time; liveness personified.

Sellars urged us to articulate the world see ourselves living in. He posed an important question to us as a follow-up, a reflection of this sentiment.

"How do you move into a place in your life where all the things you look forward to (ie. dream about) are waiting for you?" -- Peter Sellars (08/29/08)

The answer he gave us to this query was three words long: "Imagine, Create, Live." The energy of one's being directed properly can accomplish what you wish for in your life -- make the effort, speak from your heart, don't deny yourself what it is that you need to become who you are.

Again, our world is all about connecting. After all, even the unconnected things can be connected through the existence of rhyme.

My Chance Meeting With Leonard Maltin

Early on Friday morning, at approximately 9:30 A.M., I made the decision to head down to the Staff Clubhouse in Telluride to grab a bit of breakfast. I wasn't quite certain as to the exact location of the clubhouse, so I was sort of ambling along down sidestreets and dusty trails, in an attempt to find the necessary sustenance to get me through the day. Pretty soon, I became relatively lost (albeit that Telluride's a small town).

As one does when lost, I looked about to see if someone in the vicinity could assist me with directions. Only two individuals stood within proximity - at the time, I had no idea who these people were. Without thinking, I approached with the aim of asking directions. As I asked the requisite direction-related, only then did I realize that I had approached renowned film critic Leonard Maltin. Let's have that again. I was asking Leonard Maltin for directions.

Maltin is the current president of the Los Angeles Film Critics Association, the movie reviewer of Entertainment Tonight and teaches at the University of Southern California (USC) in their Cinema Studies department.

Our meeting is particular peculiar on the account that only a week before Telluride I had been looking at the USC website for Cinema Studies as consideration for graduate studies; in particular, I explored Maltin's biography and information on the course he taught at the university.

So, here I was, having gone from Maltin on my computer monitor to inches away from me, in real life. Talk about life-changing.

Maltin was standing on the sidewalk with his daughter Jessie near Telluride's gondola station when I approached. Both, I learned, were waiting for transportation to arrive to take them to their condo. He and his daughter were beyond cordial, even helpful as to the location of the Staff Clubhouse. After pointing out the location, the three of us talked about the festival, how it was my first time and how Jessie had been coming since she was ten (and she's only a year older than me). We also talked about USC. Maltin answered some questions that I had about the school, with particular attention to his course and then we parted ways. I thanked them for the jovial discussion and mentioned that it was lovely to meet them.

I left from the conversation ecstatic at having for the first time experienced the magic of the Telluride Film Festival. I was bright-eyed, having realized that the first story of many to come had just happened. Little did I realize that the Sunday afterwards, I would run into Jessie Maltin again at a concessions stand outside Le Pierre (one of the festival theatres) and our having met on the Friday before would be the cause of a wistful and striking conversation that ran the gamut from jazz music to linguistics. It was, in short, quite excellent.

She and I exchanged contact information thereafter and, having returned to Chicago, I look forward to our continued correspondence and our next meeting. Hanging out with her in Telluride and having one of those rare wittily magnificent conversations was one of the many experiences I will never forget from Telluride. Here's to more of such memories to come!

The Flowers, They're Goldblumin' (or I Prefer My Shakes Maltin)

I have a quick confession to make. Due to the rigorous nature of the festival, I may not be able to update the blog as much as I would otherwise like to do. It's currently 1:23 A.M. in Telluride, Colorado, and I've already got to be up for breakfast and a discussion at 7:30 A.M. -- yikes. Prepare not to sleep if you ever come to Telluride. By its very nature, especially relevant to Student Symposium, you are out and about at all hours of the day and the night -- it is (blissfully) unrelenting. I have absolutely no complaints.

I have a lot that I plan to write here, personal anecdotes and may venture into the realm of using videoblogs to condense information, but since I won't have time enough to prepare oratory on the subject matters, writing things down here or in a notebook seems to be a more appropriate way to store my thoughts for the time being. I've always been a writer first and an actor/improviser second, so I'll opt to stick to my guns on this one -- the deliciously serendipitous (and not-so-serenditious) occurrences here at Telluride deserve a meticulously and thorough relation, with careful attention to details.

A story might be fun to hear in person, but my one experimental venture into videoblogging (or vlogging) resulted in a fairly circuitous, rambling and incoherent relation of several anecdotes, including but not limited to a brief and spastic tour of my condo (by means of spinning my computer around in a circle). So. Let's put that brief bit behind us, ignore it for now, and hope for the best via the textual relation of my stories to all of ya'll.

A brief note that I will expound upon after the festival's close comes from our class discussion with filmmaker Peter Sellars -- Sellars, in his forty-five minute lecture to us all, talked of the importance of praise and of understanding intentionality. His focus with these two main core subjects was on defining who you are in the truest form, and admittedly having to go through some relative hell or tumult to arrive at a sense of peace or appropriate purpose in one's life. He said something to us all that really struck a chord with me -- I may be paraphrasing a bit when I transcribe this quote from my hastily-written notes, but the sentiment that follows is a near perfect illustration that my life has taken in the past year.

"It's when you're in a miserable state in your life that you really realize what it is you want and who you really are (and who you need to become) -- also, how to come to a place that mirrors that."
-- Peter Sellars

What Sellars said to our symposium is outstandingly relevant in the sense that a less than favorable state in my life led me to realize exactly what it was I needed to be doing with my life. I was in a situation where the circumstances were unfavorable, where I was making choices based on the concerns and opinions of others instead of first consulting myself.

I am being purposefully cryptic because I intend to expound on this a bit more in a later post, but trust me when I say that in the past year (since having realized the changes that needed to be made), life has been close to ideal. A place like Telluride makes me (at least) realize that everything I have come to believe in the past year of my life and have realized as aspirations, goals and wants, is intensely valid if potentially less poetic than the linguistic stylings of Peter Sellars, filmmaker and honorary motivational speaker, in my book.

Also, I have some additional quick notes for further explication. Look forward to hearing about the following:

• My Chance Meeting with Leonard Maltin
• Meeting Jeff Goldblum (complete with pictures to prove it!) + Bonus Random Anecdote
  
• Symposium Discussion with Ken Burns
• Symposium Discussion with Peter Sellars (in further detail)
• Paul Vester's short film In The Woods (and aftermath)
  
• U.S. Premiere of Waltz With Bashir & Meeting with Director Ari Folman (w/ Folman's video introduction that almost got me kicked out of the Chuck Jones' Cinema -- sorry, Telluride Staff, I honestly didn't know that it was forbidden!)
  
• U.S. Premiere of A Private Century by Czech Director Jan Sikl & Meeting Afterward

It's true what they say about Telluride, in that you have every opportunity to meet anyone who is in attendance. The Ari Folman story, in particular, is an excellent illustration of how making the right choice (what would normally be considered going the extra mile) allows that which is unbelievable to become a distinct reality.

Everyone here really is within an arm's reach. The opportunities can slip away as easily as they present themselves -- but, thankfully, I have rarely been one to turn down an opportunity. And, since being here in Telluride is such a special honor, I'll be damned if I am going to walk by someone I respect or who has inspired me in some way without at least introducing myself. Some are content to observe from afar and say, "Hey! It's Jeff Goldblum." But, I got to talk to the man, all because I made the effort to do so. It's not hard, per se, but it takes some courage.

For me, the fact that I am here in Telluride is courage enough. Cheers.

Arrived At Last!

It's official!

After approximately six hours worth of travel from Evanston to Chicago, Chicago to Denver, Denver to Montrose, one shuttle ride later I have arrived here in Telluride, Colorado. And, perhaps obviously, I couldn't be happier to be here. Honest.

After having visited Colorado once before (in Westcliffe, Colorado) only last Spring, I am pleased to return to the place that I consider the easily the most beautiful state in the United States of America. As aforementioned, I miss all the oxygen that comes along with any other location in our country, but the view is incomparable, along with the festivities that are yet to come.

I have settled into my condominium, located in the center of the small mountain village on Main St. -- luckily, I couldn't be any closer to everywhere I would want to be in this town. It's a great little two-bedroom abode, elegantly decorated in a style that reminds me of a log cabin. And, perhaps unbelievably, I am able to get wireless internet right from the condo. Having this available will make future blogging much easier. I had previously been told that cafes and the local library would be our only option for internet access. I am glad to find that this is untrue.

I don't want to spend all of my time inside, and I am eager to explore the town (and to take pictures!). But, before I come to the close of this quick update, I'll provide a little bit of an anecdote to accompany the preceding information. Here goes.

I exchanged business cards for the first time on this trip while in-transit from Denver to Montrose. As it turns out, I was seated next to a woman who is a patron of the Telluride Film Festival. Her name, Julie Friesen. Ms. Friesen is representing Anderson Friesen Film Appreciation here at Telluride, which is based out of Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

Our discussion revolved around many topics -- as it turns out, she spent most of her summers in college working in and around Chicago for the Malnati family, who own many businesses including the famous Lou Malnati's Pizzeria. Perhaps most significantly, we talked about our respective reasons for attending the festival. She was impressed to hear that I had been selected for the Student Symposium and, in contrast, everything she said to me was something I couldn't believe.

She mentioned she would be attending a private preview screening that is exclusive to patrons, supposedly happening tomorrow (Friday, August 29th). As we exchanged contact information as our 45-passenger plane touched down in Montrose, she mentioned that she would let me know what the "super secret" film is and her opinion of it, as well. If and when the information comes to me, I'll be sure to put it up here.

But, for now, I'm about to grab lunch and walk around for a bit before the Symposium festivities begin at 4:00 P.M. this evening. There are more stories to tell already, but not enough time. I'll save them for the next post.

Caught in a Rainbow of Disbelief

There's been a change of venue.

I received an e-mail only yesterday informing me that my original lodging arrangement with Paul Gandell (see earlier post for stories/explication) had been canceled. Hearing this only two days before the festival's opening, I appropriately allowed myself a moment of panic.

Erika Gordon, Education Coordinator of the Telluride Film Festival, was the sender of the e-mail. Her details were purposefully cryptic and spare, but what I could glean from her message was that Paul apparently ran into personal reasons that has resulted in an inability to host a student for the duration of the festival. Bummer.

Talking with Paul on the phone was like talking to an old friend -- and, I looked forward to meeting both him and his family. I can only hope that all is well in his life. It worries that Erika did not offer any details of Paul's situation, but then again I assume the omission is less than an oversight, more so a nod towards privacy on his part. It's not that I particularly mind, but I cannot help but attempt to fill in the blank for myself.

All speculation aside, Erika soon afterwards informed me that alternate arrangements had been made. And, with the results, I couldn't be at all happier. Okay. Perhaps that's a bit of a stretch. I could be staying with George Clooney for the festival, but what has come about as a result of the complications on Paul's end is just as good, if not better. Don't get me wrong. This isn't schadenfreude. It's a delightfully ironic turn for the best.

My lodging will be provided by Elaine and Tom Schroedl, in a condominium located in the exact center of town (on, wouldn't you know it, Main Street). Elaine and Tom are what Telluride locals might call the talk of the town -- for a small mountain town like Telluride (with a population of barely over 2,000 residents), these are the individuals that paint its high altitude palette with sky blue brilliance. The Schroedls have a son, age seventeen, who is about to embark off to college at the close of the festival. He's into basketball, soccer, athletics in general. The Schroedls describe their home as a bit of a circus, people coming and going willy-nilly.

But, rightly so. I spoke with both Elaine and Tom today on the phone during my lunch break at work and hearing them talk about what could be expected out of the festival sent my level of excitement to a brand new high. Allow me to explain.

Every year, on the Thursday before the show, Elaine and Tom host an immense shindig for all the festival guests, meaning the filmmakers, actors and honorees in attendance. It's a social soiree of an epic sort. It's the kind of thing you read about in books or see in the movies. Before, the thought of even ambling through the streets and bumping into a celebrity by serendipity seemed like an opportunity with limitless results, but here will be practically everyone, all in the same Telluride home for several hours.

I, too, have been invited to the party. Utterly unbelievable.

I am sure that there are many moments to come that will make me feel as if I'm caught in a beautiful rainbow of disbelief, but this is the first to strike me so. I have no way to predict exactly what will occur in the coming days, but I have a pretty good feeling that it could change my life.

Who's With Me?

No, seriously. I'm asking the question and hoping for answers. Who visits this website? Who are all of ya'll? I cannot help but reach out to satisfy my insatiable curiosity -- it may have killed the cat, but hopefully this human will survive. So, do me a favor and post a comment saying your name, where you're from and how you found out about this blog. Alternatively, if you're someone who I have personally made aware of this blog, why not post a little hello if you feel up to it.

Onward!

For readers of 24 Frames, I sincerely hope that this weblog serves as a way and means for you to experience the 35th Telluride Film Festival as if firsthand. This blog post inaugurates a feeling of unity that I hope will continue to remain prevalent on this blog henceforth -- thereby, the use of the enclosed fist raised into the air. We stand together. Myself and you, the internet. As they say in what I imagine to be the only Spanish I'll ever need to know, "Mi Telluride Film Festival es su Telluride Film Festival."

I will not solely be writing for myself in keeping this blog updated throughout the course of the festival, but equally for family, friends and those who stumble upon this page and find that they're intrigued with its contents. The locus of my writing efforts will be to recreate the festival experience -- I want the reader, more than anything, to feel like they are proverbially 'along for the (Tellu)ride.' Excuse the pun. I could not resist.

Neglecting to share this experience in any fashion would be a tragedy. In fact, in being given such a rare gift as to attend the 35th Telluride Film Festival Student Symposium, it is my opinion that making all of the information accessible globally is a necessity. All of the facts, the critiques, opinions and, above all, the mind-bending stories that will come from this experience, as I see it, will be too precious to keep to one's self.

In recording the six days I am in Telluride, Colorado, I am making a commitment to hopefully inspire others in ways that I have been inspired. I am of the opinion that nothing affects the mind to greater effect than the relation of personal storytelling. For me, this is most certainly true. I have been impressed, inspired, challenged and frightened all through examples from the lives of others -- never have I been more moved as when someone told me something that has happened to them. In this way, the story is personal, real and tangible.

Such stories beg the asking of a particular question. It is, so it goes, "if it can happen to them, why can't it happen to me?" Or, if painful, the opposite is true. "I hope nothing like that ever happens to me," one could be heard to say.

Personal stories of all kinds have led me to where I am today. In six days, I start to tell my own. The rest is yet to be told.

A Dream Postponed

Look at those puppy dog eyes. It can't be denied that those eyes are issuing a fierce apology to this blogger -- or, at least, that is exactly what I would like to think. I say this on account of a bit of news that came to me early this morning. With the aforementioned news came what in my opinion is an equal dose of good and bad news. Spike Lee's eyes, in the above picture, might say it all.

An anonymous reader of 24 Frames wrote a comment on my last post about Brandon Colvin's dream regarding myself, Spike Lee and the Telluride Film Festival. The anonymous reader wrote first that he is a fan of the blog and second that Spike Lee's film Miracle at St. Anna is set to premiere at this year's 33rd Annual Toronto International Film Festival, which happens only two days after the 35th Telluride Film Festival. Read about it here.

Apparently, it was announced in early July, which just goes to show how much news one can miss out on while abroad -- for those not in the know, I spent the last seven weeks or so abroad in the Czech Republic, where national cinema is on the rise, but where Hollywood blockbusters are the only things you'll find at the cinema otherwise. And, the arrival of these films is almost always unimaginably delayed -- for example, by the time I was about to leave Prague, The Hulk and Made of Honor were just being released. Pretty sad, though I did get to see a fabulous Czech film (with Eng. subs) by director Petr Zelenka, entitled Karamazovi based on Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. Highly, highly recommended.

Now, I mentioned earlier that hearing this news was something of a blessing and a curse. While I am understandably somewhat despondent to hear that Lee won't make it to Colorado to premiere his film, an important set of realizations come along with this sad news. First, I realize that this is by no means the end of a dream -- as the title of the post suggests, the dream is not over but only postponed. In fact, it hits me clearly now more than ever before that sitting idly by wishing that something were to happen is likely to be the least productive method of making these dreams come true.

Sheer force of will alone cannot direct one's future -- herein lies the difference between thought and action. Also notable is the fact that each individual is in complete control as the primary agent in his or her life -- in short, you are responsible for what happens. I can will towards coincidence as long as I want, but that won't change the fact that Lee's film is debuting at Toronto. By contrast, if I am to meet Spike Lee, another route must be taken.

Thankfully, this alternative route does not involve the act of stalking. That would be far too creepy and disrespectful. Instead, I am lucky to have as a friend a fellow by the name of Dan Sandford, Director of Graduate Admissions at New York University, where Spike Lee is Artistic Director of the Maurice Kanbar Institute of Film & Television and teaches the 3rd-Year MFA Film Production Program. Sandford is a great friend with an incomparable taste in contemporary and classic jazz music. He also represents a direct connection to New York University and Spike Lee.

I visited Dan in New York for the first time last December, both to reunite with him and explore the university, as I intend to apply to New York University for graduate studies. Herein lies the opportunity to not only meet Lee, but to have him as an instructor and close mentor. I still am not certain whether I will attend graduate studies for film production or analytic cinema studies. If I am accepted and attend for production, I will be taught by Lee. If I attend for cinema studies, I won't be instructed by him, but I will still have the opportunity for him to read the analysis of A Huey P. Newton Story that I presented at the University of Notre Dame in April. That's the dream that needs completion.

In looking forward, I see that Spike Lee's absence at the festival is not a major loss. The mystery of Telluride is still, and truthfully has always been, the draw of the festival. Any way you spin it, Telluride is going to be life-changing. You can't spoil a thing so great at this.

And, the other exceedingly positive thing that I learned from this news? I learned that people outside of my friends and family are frequenting this blog. Knowing that makes me beyond ecstatic. I hope that what I write from now until the festival's close brings you as much joy as it will me to be able to write it. Here's to you, anonymous reader(s). Cheers!

Another Step Forward

I just finished speaking on the telephone for the first time with Paul Gandell, with whom I will be staying during my time in Telluride. One perk of the Student Symposium is that the cost of lodging is waived for students with financial restrictions -- in lieu of renting a condominium or hotel for several days, qualifying students are personally arranged by the festival organizers to reside with citizens of the mountain town.

Paul lives in what he describes as a "noticeably green" two-story house with a white picket fence arranged along its perimeter, the dividing line between the Gandell residence and the town which for six days at the end of August and the beginning of September becomes a film lover's heaven. He has a young boy, his only child, who as of recently turned four years of age. I imagine that he could be a handful, but I have always taken well to children and so look forward to meeting a boy so fortunate as to grow up in a town where magic happens just beyond his property line.

As is my custom, I thanked Paul profusely for providing my lodging during the Telluride stay. He quickly confessed that, while he is more than happy to offer a room to me, he is being handsomely compensated with festival passes of his own. We shared a laugh at that moment. I told him that it sounded like he was getting a good deal with the arrangement. He didn't miss a beat when responding with, "Definitely a great deal." We laughed again.

A lot of our talk was introduction and formalities, but before we finished our discussion I asked Paul that always difficult and oftentimes unfair question -- I asked him to relate to me a favorite moment from a past festival. As I expected, his immediate answer was "There are so many." It took only four words to make me as giddy as when I first found out about my acceptance. Telluride's past, I realized, is filled with memories; in fact, is a source for memories. Again, he repeated his sentiment. "I have so many great memories and moments from the festivals, it's hard to pick just one."

Though, he eventually settled on a story surrounding Harvey Keitel, a couple of years back when he was being honored with one of three tributes given during the festival proper, a cinematic retrospective and ceremony of sorts. As the Telluride schedule is openly fluctuates (in terms of additions) even throughout the course of the festival proper, a screening of a unnamed movie came up at midnight. According to the program, it was a "New Harvey Keitel Movie" and listed the time. Now, nobody knew what was going on. Some people were there, but it wasn't terribly crowded as I understand, due to the mystery of the whole thing. But, Paul had just gotten out of work, so he went to see it.

As it turns out, the mystery film that Paul went to see (with Keitel in attendance) was none other than Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs. Paul told me that it was, by far, the most electric, outrageous, devastatingly pleasant surprise he had ever been a part of in TFF history. In his own words, "There was no better way to see it." Sounds like it, Paul. Now, I'm not sure if this screening was authorized or a big secret, but depending on what year this all went down, this could have been the first screening of the film ever. I don't know if that's true, considering Sundance claims that it debuted there. Paul didn't say this, but it was a thought I had. I am pretty sure however, that since Tarantino was a part of the Sundance Institute that the film premiered there in January of '92. Pretty sure.

In addition, Paul told me another related story about when Tim Roth (who acted in Reservoir Dogs) stopped into his sandwich shop another year -- apparently, they had a bit of a discussion, wherein Paul asked him about the title of the film. Roth wouldn't give away its secret. He said, "I don't know. It's really Quentin's thing and... I don't know." Great quote, I know, but the experience (even if unsuccessful in revealing the mystery) was a priceless one.

It was then that I realized that just like Paul was retelling his own experiences with such enthusiasm, it would not be long until I, too, would be able to the same. Telluride is actually happening -- it's no longer an opiate daydream, the whims of a cineaste from a small town. In eighteen days, as I told Paul, I will be eating lunch next to Werner Herzog and Ken Burns. I used that exact phrase as an example and, again without missing a beat, Paul responded: "Don't be too surprised if that actually happens." I about died.

I am looking forward to making my own memories at Telluride, meeting people who I have long seen from afar as inspirations towards achievement and changing my life, one step at a time.

"Top Secret" / Dreams

It was only days ago, upon returning to the United States from abroad, that I received my official acceptance packet to the 35th Telluride Film Festival Student Symposium. Holding it in my hands, I sensed that it was thick with secrets of what was in store for the Symposium. It was only later, while perusing the material included, that I remembered a longtime Telluride tradition. I had forgotten that Telluride's secrets were beyond "top secret."

Ever since the 3rd Telluride Film Festival, the organizers of the festival have made the decision to keep the program line-up a closely guarded secret. Nobody is in the know (besides the festival organizers) as to who or what films will be in Telluride for the six-day experience. Even for those involved in the Student Symposium, we're left almost entirely clueless. Now, this time-honored tradition is part of what makes this particular festival experience so endearing -- not only does Telluride promise an unequivocal experience for the viewer and student, but the details are entirely a mystery.

Even with my "top secret" packet of information and travel documents, the festival's organizers continue to keep both the students and the thousands of attendees in unimaginable anticipation. In fact, the process reminds me a bit of Christmas gifts. I could ask, and I might get an answer, but do I really want to spoil the surprise? The answer is no.

It is remarkable, though, that every year the festival sells out all of its passes based purely on its reputation. Festival-goers bank on their past experience or knowledge communicated through alternative channels about how mind-blowing the festival line-up traditionally is. Attendees have not even a remote inclination about what to expect beforehand -- but, on arrival, the schedule is presented to them and the proverbial man behind the curtain revealed.

As I rather literally lie in wait for the festival to begin here in my Evanston apartment bedroom, a dream enters my mind that for the festival, echoes again and again to me as a distinct possibility. It is my dream and (perhaps naive) hope that American filmmaker Spike Lee will be present at the festival. Here's another theory for you, as an explanation of why this is not exactly impossible. Spike Lee has a film set to be released in theatres as of September 26th, 2008, Miracle at St. Anna. As of yet, no information (that I am aware of) has been made public about its debut at another film festival during the summer. This, to me, signals that Telluride for Lee could actually be happening.

If Lee is at Telluride when I arrive, I will undoubtedly combust based upon the stimulus. To be safe, I plan to bring a copy of the academic paper I wrote on Lee's A Huey P. Newton Story with me to Telluride. This is the paper that I wrote for Jacqueline Stewart's class on Spike Lee and that I presented at the University of Notre Dame's 2nd Annual Midwest Undergraduate Film Conference. The paper is also currently being considered for the 2008 Frank Capra Award for Excellence in Undergraduate Film Criticism. Fingers crossed on all accounts, I'd say.

More information/exposition later, but in the meantime, please feel free to check out Chris Gore's (of Film Threat) coverage of the 33rd Telluride Film Festival here (in three parts). Enjoy.