I have been to two "Film Festivals" since arriving in Antofagasta over two months ago (and there's another one coming up next week - AntofaDocs - which sounds interesting). Both were scarcely attended but the fact that there even exist a film culture in such an industry heavy city like Antofagasta, I find impressive and inspiring. And, as it turns out, Antofagastians are into some pretty weird shit.
Before attending either of these events I had to meet my first Antofa cinefile. And that happened at a American 4th of July BBQ (hosted by a collection of English Pedagogy students, naturally). One of the first names that came up in discussion with this particular(ly cute, intelligent, opinionated) student of cinema was Emir Kusturica, a Serbian filmmaker whose English-Language debut, Arizona Dream, is the only film of his I've seen. It is a delirious trip that stars Johnny Depp, Jerry Lewis, Faye Dunaway, Lili Tomlin and Vincent Gallo. Melodramatic, slapstick, absurd, heartbreaking, Arizona Dream is a thing to behold. Apparently, I need to watch his other films as he has developed a bit of a cult following in Chile. Another friend of mine here told me that Kusturica's musician/composer friend (who has scored 3 of Kusturica's films - including Arizona Dream), Goran Bregovic, came to Antofagasta a couple of years ago and blew the roof off the stadium with his riotous Balkan beats.
After discussing Kusturica and (my cinefilic fallback) François Truffaut, she told me about an upcoming "film festival". I expressed some overenthusiastic interest and we made a date. I checked the festival's schedule when I got home and decided I wanted to see the Chilean independent film, Velódromo. Said girl, told me she hated Chilean cinema but she'd come along.
A week later I was sitting in a small theater in the basement of a private mining foundation building waiting for the projectionist to press play on the DVD. There were less than 10 people in the theatre. The theme of the festival was Creative Commons and featured speakers, debates and film screenings all week long. I caught the tail end of a presentation but the only thing I got out of it was a new way to say "Understand me?" ("Me sigues?" or "You follow me?"). I did not follow (nor did I follow Velódromo except for the constant barrage of "weon"s that ended every statement in the film) but found the experience interesting, all the same.
Of course, said girl hated the film. But we made plans to see Vincent Moon's South-American travelogue Esperando el Tsunami later in the week. Our conversations on the bus to and from the screenings were stop-and-go, full of awkward miscommunications and oddly standoffish dances around movies/things one liked that the other hated. And Esperando el Tsunami didn't help anything. It was boring and pretentious with "pretty" cinematography and occasional live music performances that were, actually, quite wonderful. After that I promised her the next movie we saw together would be a good one. Must be a good one.
We have not seen a movie together since.
But I did go to another film festival, this one held in a Government Works building in a slightly larger theater (though equally lacking in attendance). It featured a tribute to Bolivian cinema and in particular the films of Jorge Sanjinés. The first night I went, I saw Sangre de Condor made by Sanjinés in 1967, with some Mapuche non-actors. It was phenomenal. Devastating. And one of the center pieces of evil in the film? Gringos. Specifically the American Peace Corps, who - a few years later - were kicked out of Bolivia indefinitely (and are still to this day not allowed in to the country). Damn gringos. The film itself felt more like a South-American cousin of The Bicycle Thief in its gloom and hopelessness in the face of modern society's bureaucratic lack of compassion and/or fairness. And as the only gringo in the audience that night, I felt awfully guilty and (though this was surely imagined) like I was being eyed suspiciously by the rest of Chileans there. Is this gringo trying to take our babies and eggs and egg-babies away from us? "No, no," I would say. "I just get an odd satisfaction from white guilt and self-loathing."
I've met a number of people interested in filmmaking here in Chile (actors, directors, people with cameras, -makers, etc.), I only wish that there were more support for it. More people coming out to watch these films. More theaters than the two grande CineMundos in the Mall and Líder. There's obviously some interest. They just need some dedicated folks, a dedicated space, and some naive enthusiasm. And maybe there's room for a big, dumb, evil gringo in there, too.
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