I had a brilliant time last Wednesday at the 49th Ann Arbor Short Film Festival. It was being screened in Edge Hill's Rose Theatre, very competently I'd like to add in case the projectionist is reading. It was a bit of a labour of love to get the festival to be shown here, according to the man responsible. Not because the Ann Arbor organization was unhelpful, quite the opposite in the end, but because previous institution he had worked for were not keen to host the event for whatever reason.
Well, I can't pretend I understood all the films. God has seen fit, in his infinite wisdom, to bless me with the level of mental faculty that he has. No more, no less. With this faculty, it was not possible for me to grasp the subtleties of films involving lingering, black and white shots of chain link fences. Nor was it possible for me to see the relevance in a kid riding around in circles on a bike for a few minutes with no dialogue or anything besides. That, however, did not stop me enjoying the night.
Explorations of naked old men on skatboards, the futility and yet humour of life, coming of age and what cinema means were all themes that even this feeble intellect could put its finger on. There was a lot of humour, actually, which translates whether you are an artist or a pleb. That I am glad for, I can tell thee!
Right, sorry, I can't be arsed writing any more. Had a great time, hope to see it next year blah blah...