For someone with little patience with the concept of live relays of films or plays to cinemas, I was curiously unperturbed by last night's 'live' screening of a film.
At Hackney Picturehouse in London, they showed Pedro Almodovar's new film, I'm so excited! (Original Spanish title goes something like the passengers who are lovers who are the passengers. So my Spanish teacher tells me.) 3,700 there or thereabouts other people sat in Picturehouses across the UK and watched Hackney Picturehouse's audience settle into their seats, watched Pedro himself arrive in the building and answer a few scrappy questions thrown at him by journalists, watched (the only slightly ill-thought through bit) old trailers for Almodovar films (I was horribly disorientated for a second when they started showing the trailer for the creepy film about the plastic surgeon as if it was the film and for a dreadful eery moment, as if I'd died and gone to Almodovar heaven, I thought I'd somehow seen the premiere before.) and then watched the film itself.
The film itself was beautifully Almodovar. Penelope making her token appearance - in a boiler suit no less. Antonio B pops up. Almodovar's favourite boy muse appears, more or less unrecognisably to my poor facially recognising mind. The colours are saturated and lovely. The music is bouncy and fun. This is a silly film but great fun for all that.
But the film finished and we got a filmed version of a Q&A with Mr Almodovar himself. They'd given us a hashtag before the film started so I should really have popped my Q in then, rather than waiting till the end when the interviewer appeared to have the pre-printed twitter Qs already in her hand. But do you know, whether or not my question was asked, that little slice of the evening was fascinating. (Though yes, Michael, though I survived the film alert, I had the tiniest of naps in the question section. Bad girl. My Spanish teacher woke me by suddenly hissing a question at me. Seems I have this track record at the Cameo.)
I loved him before I ever arrived at the cinema as I love his films so much. But my heart was well and truly lost at his parting comment, which went something like this:
"I love directing because you get to see miracles. You work with actors and every now and then, they create something amazing. And you're the first person to see it."
Just so.
At Hackney Picturehouse in London, they showed Pedro Almodovar's new film, I'm so excited! (Original Spanish title goes something like the passengers who are lovers who are the passengers. So my Spanish teacher tells me.) 3,700 there or thereabouts other people sat in Picturehouses across the UK and watched Hackney Picturehouse's audience settle into their seats, watched Pedro himself arrive in the building and answer a few scrappy questions thrown at him by journalists, watched (the only slightly ill-thought through bit) old trailers for Almodovar films (I was horribly disorientated for a second when they started showing the trailer for the creepy film about the plastic surgeon as if it was the film and for a dreadful eery moment, as if I'd died and gone to Almodovar heaven, I thought I'd somehow seen the premiere before.) and then watched the film itself.
The film itself was beautifully Almodovar. Penelope making her token appearance - in a boiler suit no less. Antonio B pops up. Almodovar's favourite boy muse appears, more or less unrecognisably to my poor facially recognising mind. The colours are saturated and lovely. The music is bouncy and fun. This is a silly film but great fun for all that.
But the film finished and we got a filmed version of a Q&A with Mr Almodovar himself. They'd given us a hashtag before the film started so I should really have popped my Q in then, rather than waiting till the end when the interviewer appeared to have the pre-printed twitter Qs already in her hand. But do you know, whether or not my question was asked, that little slice of the evening was fascinating. (Though yes, Michael, though I survived the film alert, I had the tiniest of naps in the question section. Bad girl. My Spanish teacher woke me by suddenly hissing a question at me. Seems I have this track record at the Cameo.)
I loved him before I ever arrived at the cinema as I love his films so much. But my heart was well and truly lost at his parting comment, which went something like this:
"I love directing because you get to see miracles. You work with actors and every now and then, they create something amazing. And you're the first person to see it."
Just so.
posted by Claire at 10:54 pm
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