A hectic college life has often meant lasting weeks or months without watching a movie – something of a problem for a cinephile, to say the least. So as my final year as a college student in Champaign, I promised to experience Ebertfest as fully as possible. For the past two years, I succeeded in attending one screening each; this year, I cleared my schedule and dedicated my time to its full five days. Five days of constant education and inspiration, including viewings of seven films: Goodbye to Language 3D, The End of the Tour, Girlhood, Wild Tales, The Motel Life, 99 Homes, and Seymour An Introduction. (All reviews may be found here.) A lack of time and money prevented me from witnessing all screenings, as well as morning academic panels, but luckily, Ebertfest maintains recordings of all its Q&As and panels on Youtube.
Additionally,
I’m currently enrolled in a film festivals class at the university which blends
lessons of festival history and cultural theory with practical organization
skills for our own student film festival. Because of this, I knew Ebertfest
would be even more unique, and not to be missed. Ebertfest stands to appreciate
film with true cinephiliac honesty and, in recent years, has successfully
remained true to Roger Ebert’s vision and the person and film lover that he
was. Its success also has as much to do with the organizers – Chaz Ebert, Mary
Susan Britt, and Nate Kohn – and the community of filmgoers that attend each
year. The tenderness is evident – in how the audience interacts with one
another, how the audience interacts with the films, how visiting filmmakers are
treated, and how the program is presented. Ebertfest is carefully curated: it
is a retrospective; it is a chance to view some of this year’s upcoming
independent films; it is a chance to discuss films directly with those who created
them; and thanks to James Bond, it is a chance to experience what prime film
projection looks and sounds and feels like. The fact that Champaign houses the
university is another plus, ensuring the discussions are rarely dull.
Personal
highlights include The End of the Tour (an experience so personal that I came
home and stayed up for an extra three hours to write the review and reflection),
as well as Seymour: An Introduction (Ebertfest’s annual Sunday music
documentary). To say the least: Seymour was the perfect – no, only – way to end
the festival. To elaborate: Seymour was this year’s first and only standing
ovation, and for good reason. Director Ethan Hawke enters the picture, fueled
by his own crisis of soul, and then quietly steps back, redirecting the
spotlight back to pianist Seymour Bernstein, who teaches the audience how to
live a life with brutal honesty. Seymour was present at the festival, along
with his friend Andrew Harvey, the man responsible for introducing Seymour and
Hawke. With Seymour’s film, I almost didn’t want to say much. Although I love
film (a lot), music has always been my first love – and so Seymour’s
philosophies on life and art and solitude resonated even stronger. At the end
of the film, we see Seymour perform his first solo concert in decades in front
of a small audience of close friends. The last song finishes, the screen cuts
to black, and we hear Seymour’s voice: “I never dreamt that with my own two
hands, I could touch the sky.” Roll credits. “Holy shit,” I muttered to myself.
Watching Seymour: An Introduction felt like soul cleansing, like cosmic
awakening.
Chaz
Ebert emerged from behind the red curtain with Seymour on her arm and mentioned
his comment on the fact that our screening was the best sounding out of all the
ones he’d seen – and he’d seen a lot of them. Plus, as a musician – he knows
something about sound. Chaz burst into tears, telling us that Seymour felt “as
if Roger was speaking to him” during the final scene. She presented the Golden
Thumb award to both Seymour and Andrew. The Q&A began, where Seymour
continued to beautifully articulate his philosophies while still managing to
make the audience laugh. After, Seymour himself taught one of his mater classes
to two talented and privileged university students. I had to leave before the
teaching began, but I can only imagine how inspiring it must have been – and particular,
because the lesson itself lasted an hour long.
There
was a point in the festival, on Saturday when the sun was out and the theatre scheduled
four films in a row until midnight, when I grew tired and yearned to resume my
work. This was in contrast to the first few days when I exhibited an
unstoppable drive and desire to write about each film. Then during the final
days, I was more focused on consuming and admiring the experience. But the fact
will always be that these kinds of experiences are nearly useless to me without
active reflection or return. The heart of this year’s Ebertfest lied in
ultimate truth and human existence – and as always, personal integrity. I saw
it in the message of Jean-Luc Godard’s Goodbye to Language; in The End of the
Tour’s David Foster Wallace; in Girlhood’s Mariame; in the captivating,
hilarious, tragedy-ridden Wild Tales; in Frank and his loved ones in The Motel
Life; in Nash and his dilemma in 99 Homes; and all throughout Seymour: An
Introduction. Truth, human existence, integrity. Did I go to a film festival or
a spiritual retreat? Either way, the whole experience was more than worthwhile.
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