I went to the Reel Island Film Festival’s presentation of RIFF Shorts 3 (this year’s third screening of shorts). I went because ‘Florid’, a movie I co-wrote and acted in, was being presented.
Let me tell you about ‘Florid’. It’s a 22 minute black comedy about 4 street bums who, deep in the middle of an Island winter, try to raise enough money to go and bum in the warm sun of Florida. It’s got a lot of genuinely funny laughs, some enjoyable performances, some pretty funny lines, and some really bizarre, ugly (intentional), and embarrassing (less so intentional) moments too. It’s a film many people seem to enjoy. But it’s not the best movie, story-wise. There are wide gaping holes, scenes missing, and the ending probably needs an interpreter. Yet, it is funny. However, because of its shortcomings, I believe ‘Florid’ would have trouble getting into most ‘Real’ film festivals.
Let me tell you about the RIFF Shorts 3. I would suggest that ‘Florid’ (yes, even after discounting any bias I have), and perhaps one or two others, were the creme of the crop. Most of the rest were pure claptrap. (Note to editor: remove ‘most of’). Probably an hour and a half, out of the two hours, was intolerable at worst, bland at best. From what I heard, the other screenings were comprised of just as many awful films too, with only a few worthwhile entries.
So, I once again ask: Why must PEI continue to celebrate mediocrity? Especially where artistic endeavour is concerned, Islanders sure seem content to support, and create, blandness. And with the unwritten “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” method of criticism in full effect and force on PEI, it’s sure to stay that way for some time. The worst offense someone could perpetrate on an Island theatrical production, for instance, would be to say something negative about it in public. The underlying reason for the fear of public criticism, I believe, is “We’re only a small island, and we’re not that good, so we don’t deserve to be held up to the standards of the rest of the world.” This, of course, is bullshit.
Another question: Why in the hell is this festival 5 days long? Where in the hell were they going to get enough content to warrant 5 days of screenings? (Tuns out they didn’t) I suppose someone was told Real festivals are 5 days long, so RIFF had to do the same to give the appearance of a Real film festival. Quality of content, be damned! If RIFF looks like a real film festival; if RIFF sounds like a real festival; if RIFF smells like real festival, then that’s the goal. That makes it easier to get funding for next year. Trouble is, the sound this year was terrible and the smell this year was shit.
Here’s what I’d do with next year’s RIFF: make it a weekend long, only. Get someone in who doesn’t have trouble saying “I’m sorry, your film isn’t good enough.”
Author Archives: Rob MacD
Would You Mind, Terribly…
Tonight’s episode of Joan Of Arcadia, as written up in the TV Guide: God asks Joan to convince Adam not to enter his sculpture in the art show.
Okay, first of all, since when does God ‘ask’ anything? Secondly, why doesn’t God just phone Adam himself and ask him not to enter? Better yet, why not just give Adam severe cramping and diarrhea, so severe that it keeps him from entering his sculpture in the art show?
I’ve never seen the show, probably never will, but it sure sounds like Joan’s got God and/or Adam pussy-whipped.
Dag, Yo, It’s Hella Tight
Homestar Runner dot com is one funny site. And Teen Girl Squad, starring Cheerleader, So and So, Whats Her Face, and The Ugly One is hilarious.
“it hurts my head like a hundred dogs”
If the quote in the title (in reference to The Strokes ‘Soma’) of this post doesn’t get you the check out these music reviews from kindergarten kids, then maybe this excerpt will:
In reference to the song “You Stood Out From The Crowd” by The Salteens:
MA: Do you like the song?
Ana: This is my bracelet that my mom gave me. You can’t have it.
MA: It’s very nice. What do you think of this music?
Ana: I heard this song in my class. But I wore my dress and I wore my jacket.
MA: Felipe, do you like it?
Felipe: Oooooh! Oooooooh!
Alejandro: He’s pretending to be monkeys. And monkeys can’t talk!
MA: Ok. Monkey, can you tell me in monkey language if you like it?
Felipe: Ooooh! Oooooh! (high, squeaky voice) I don’t like it! I like to climb a tree!
"it hurts my head like a hundred dogs"
If the quote in the title (in reference to The Strokes ‘Soma’) of this post doesn’t get you the check out these music reviews from kindergarten kids, then maybe this excerpt will:
In reference to the song “You Stood Out From The Crowd” by The Salteens:
MA: Do you like the song?
Ana: This is my bracelet that my mom gave me. You can’t have it.
MA: It’s very nice. What do you think of this music?
Ana: I heard this song in my class. But I wore my dress and I wore my jacket.
MA: Felipe, do you like it?
Felipe: Oooooh! Oooooooh!
Alejandro: He’s pretending to be monkeys. And monkeys can’t talk!
MA: Ok. Monkey, can you tell me in monkey language if you like it?
Felipe: Ooooh! Oooooh! (high, squeaky voice) I don’t like it! I like to climb a tree!
Seven Spanish Senators
I don’t know who else caught the Chretien tribute on TV tonight. I saw about 40 minutes of it, and I don’t know if it’s my advancing age, or what, but I rather enjoyed what I saw.
I turned to it just as a wicked jazz trio were cooly burning down the joint (don’t get me to explain the physics of that). Sorry, didn’t remember the name of the piano jazz guy (which, by the way, is perfect Canadiana: a big tribute to your leader, and many of the performers are not household names), but they kicked it.
That was followed by the hosts’ banter. One host was Justin? Trudeau, the other’s name was Caslladh Shdohidsh (my ears avoided hearing her name). Their schtick was pretty standard, although Justin seems like a kinda hip, comfortable guy. In fact, their banter seemed very relaxed and off the cuff, even though it obviously wasn’t. So, kudos to them (can someone please inform them that I deemed their efforts kudos-worthy?)
Of course, one of the crosses we Canadians have to bear (bare?) is the bilingual official functions. I don’t mind it when people speak French then English. I don’t like the interpreter, though. An interpreter is necessary if one is watching the House of Commons (then again, so is Nembutol), but when it’s a casual speech or emcee situation, the interpretation really bugs me.
It was at this point that Karyn called out from the bath “What is that? It sounds like an American rah-rah propaganda type show”. I said that this show was, in fact, just the opposite of what the Americans would put on air, and that the next act was living proof of that theory.
The next act, of course, being some aged senator (no, not Daniel Alfredsson) and his two cronies performing a version of Seven Spanish Angels. Good god, I thought. Were BNL booked elsewhere? Gripping the couch cushion, I prepared myself for the worst. Turns out it was the highlight of the 40 minutes that I watched. They were fantastic. Not the greatest singers, looked nervous and all that, but it was totally charming. And charming in the best way, not in the ‘grade 4 recital’ charming way.
The Barra MacNeils performed next, but I yawned through that bit of done-to-death East Coast Representation. Then came Cirque de Soleil. Outstanding.
The last thing I saw before I switched to Survivor was the hosts announcing: “And now, Oscar Peterson!!” Oops, Oscar’s not ready yet. Fill Fill Fill…fill fill fill…fill fill fill. They were still filling time when I turned the channel. When I turned back during a commercial, I saw a couple of awful “congrats’ from the common-folk, and then the end of Paul Anka (as opposed to Paul Anka’s end…and I am, you know… opposed to Paul Anka’s end) singing what appeared to be a vegas-y rendition of My Way. So, maybe the 40 minutes I saw were the best?
All in all, this was a much longer post than I expected. But, then again, so was Chretien’s reign, so it all works out in Paul Anka’s end.
Picks on Someone Your Own Size
It’s taken me a full two weeks, after my abysmal pigskin prognosticating in which I went 4-10, to summon up the courage to post another round of weekend picks. Last time, I went up against 50/50 odds, up against the toss of a coin. I lost, with the coin getting 6 of 14 correct.
This time I go up against what I consider will result in a sure victory for me. I test my NFL picking skills against the skills of an NFL Neophyte, a mere babe-in-the-woods. This week I take on my 10 year old son, who chooses to know nothing about football.
So, here are the picks this week. (MP) indicates my picks, (CP) indicates Cameron’s:
Texans at Bills MP: Texans CP: Bills
Redskins at Panthers MP: Panthers CP: Panthers
Rams at Bears MP: Rams CP: Rams
Chiefs at Bengals MP: Bengals CP: Bengals
Cardinals at Browns MP: Browns CP: Cardinals
Ravens at Dolphins MP: Dolphins CP: Dolphins
Falcons at Saints MP: Falcons CP: Saints
Giants at Eagles MP: Eagles CP: Eagles
Jaguars at Titans MP: Titans CP: Jaguars
Chargers at Broncos MP: Chargers CP: Chargers
Jets at Colts MP: Colts CP: Jets
Vikings at Raiders MP: Vikings CP: Raiders
Lions at Seahawks MP: Seahawks CP: Lions
Packers at Buccaneers MP: Packers CP: Buccaneers
Cowboys at Patriots MP: Patriots CP: Cowboys
Steelers at 49ers MP: Steelers CP: 49ers
If I lose this week, next week I go up against my interpretation of cloud formations.
I am 87% Nerd Pure
Only 13% nerd. A very tolerable level of nerdity, if you ask me. Find out how Nerd you are here.
My test results:
You answered “yes” to 13 of 100 questions, making you 87.0% nerd pure (13.0% nerd corrupt); that is, you are 87.0% pure in the nerd domain (you have 13.0% nerd in you).
Your Weirdness Factor (AKA Uniqueness Factor) is 26%, based on a comparison of your test results with 378675 other submissions for this test.
The average purity for this test is 73.7%.
Hair de Har Har Har
I have a thick head of straight, fine hair. For as long as I can remember, it’s been the same style, same look. Parted on the side, combed back off the forehead. Also, for as long as I can remember, I’ve used gel to keep it in place. Over time, I have become far too dependant on the gel, to keep my hair in place. Too much in place, I realise, but, over time, it’s gotten to the point where I couldn’t go out without the gelled-hair.
But no more! Today I went gel-less for the first time in years. Yes, the hair was all over the place, all floofy and whatnot. All down over my forehead and straight and floofy. I don’t particularly like the feel of hair on my forehead, but by god, I’m gonna stick with it.
Let’s see where this gel-free head of hair takes me.
No Orange Headed Monster, This
But it’ll do, pig. It’ll do.
The Annekenstein Monster 