Rabblerousing

Last night:

a) reminded me of why I started this blog.
b) reaffirmed my love for hot docs.
c) should serve as a reminder of why I shouldn't be allowed to go the movies by myself - I'm just not responsible enough to do it without getting myself into trouble.

If you guesses a, b, and c, then you are probably my friend or family.

Let's begin just over a month ago, when passes went on sale for hot docs. For $280, I bought myself a "Premium Pass for Two," which, according the the back of the pass, "entitles the bearer and a guest access to all non-concurrent Festival screenings." Since this pass cost me $110 more than an all-the-single-ladies pass, I have decided to try to recoup the difference from my guests. To that end, I have been asking my friends to PWTC for my extra tickets, with the notion that once I raise $110, it's a free for all. So far, I have recovered $20, a sour apple martini, a bj, and a delicious and much required breakfast at Over Easy (not all at once, except for the bj and the breakfast). Anyhoo, I did a stupid thing last night...

I was running late for Hot Coffee at The Royal. I arrived at 6:53 for a 7:00 movie, and had to squeeze up to the front of the line amongst all the rushies. How beneath me. Tempted by fate, and about two feet away from the ticket booth, I turned to the woman behind me and said, in a hushed voice, "I can give you my extra ticket for $10." My surreptitious tone must have gone over her head, because she got excited about the bargain and began waving a tenner at me. I tried to calm her down and suggested that she put the money away and give it to me later, away from the prying eyes of the hot doc staff. I managed to keep her quiet until we got into the theater where the clandestine exchange of money took place. But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that we were being followed. It became apparent to me that a lanky man in a hot docs t-shirt and a headset was watching the whole deal go down. I'm pretty sure I heard him call back to one of his colleagues "I just want to see if she's giving her money!" The embarrassment began to set in. I love hot docs. I support hot docs. I certainly don't want to rip of hot docs. But even more, I don't want to get caught ripping off hot docs. So I slunk off to the best seat I could find, along the aisle in the second row, and waited for the film to begin. But the story's not over.

Now, I am very particular about my seats. This prompted me to ask an official looking woman, one of the programmers I believe, whether they would be opening up the coveted pair of accessibility seats behind the soundboard. As I asked her, Lanky sidled up, and piped in with "We like to save those seats for groups of two. Are you here with anyone?" He looked really proud of himself for coming up with such a probative question. I sheepishly told them that I wasn't, and he gave the programmer a sideways look that unequivocally implied that they knew. I was busted. I was going to get thrown out of the theatre, have my pass revoked, and never be allowed back to hot docs. My blog flashed before my eyes. But they didn't say anything. They were busy and they kept about their business.

The movie started. I couldn't concentrate. I had projectors fluttering in my stomach. The guilt was mounting and the embarrassment was morphing into mortification. I wanted to enjoy the movie but I couldn't, not with my impending ejection from hot docs hanging over my head. So I decided that I needed to something about it. I would apologize, and offer to make two $5 donations to hot docs by text message. No, three. That seemed fair.

I began the long trek from the second row to the back of theatre. In the lobby, I found Lanky and pulled him aside, and asked him "Were you watching me enter the theatre?" Lanky looked at me quizzically and said that he saw many people coming into the theatre and couldn't recall whether or not he saw me. Oh. I asked again, "didn't you see me come into the theatre with that other woman?" The programmer and another volunteer joined in. They had no idea what I was talking about. I had stuck my foot too far into my mouth and the only place to go was down. I explained to them that I had a Two for One Pass but that the woman who took my extra ticket was not my friend, and I didn't know her and that I felt terrible. The programmer was confused. "Why are you so apologetic? You're allowed to bring someone in with you." Down the hatchet we go: "Well, she gave me $10." Blanks looks all around. "Don't worry about, that's no problem! We'll pretend you never said anything!" Well don't I feel special now. I have just confessed to a transgression that nobody witnessed and that apparently wasn't even a transgression, and I was missing a chunk of the movie to accomplish this feat of morality. The programmer patted me on the shoulder, told me to get myself a hot coffee and get back to the movie. I did, with my tail between my legs, leaving the three very confused hot docs staff in the lobby.

Guilt alleviated, I was able to thoroughly enjoy the rest of the movie, which was about the state of tort law in the US. Remember the lady who sued McDonald's because her coffee was too hot? The movie presented the audience with a photo of her burns - if you ever doubted her right to a settlement, this documentary may change your mind. There was a lively and exciting q & a afterwards with the director, with lots of cross commenting and debating across the audience. I loved it. And hey, I even asked my very first question! There was that one time at TIFF where I might have asked Matthew McConaughey what he was doing later that night, but last night was certainly my first substantive question. Thrilling!

Hot Coffee was followed by a stroll down to the Lightbox where altercation #2 was awaiting me. The scene opens at the box office (doesn't it always?).

Me [displaying my pass]: I'd like one ticket for At Night They Dance.

hot doc volunteer #1: I'm sorry, we don't have any tickets left.

Me: Huh? I have a pass.

hd: I'm sorry m'am, but we don't have any industry tickets left.

Me: I'm not industry. I'm a member of the public. I have a pass.

hd: I understand, but we don't have any tickets to give you.

Me: There must be a misunderstanding - I have a pass. I paid almost $300 for this and I'd like my ticket now please.

hot docs staff #2, coming to her rescue: M'am, you don't need to be rude.

Me [honestly, keeping my cool]: I'm not being rude. I'd like my ticket please.

hd #2: We have sold out of pass tickets, you'll have to wait here in this special industry rush line and we will count the empty seats soon and start letting you in ahead of the regular rush line.

Me: I have seen 150 movies in the last 4 years [untrue: it's probably closer to 110 in three years] and this has never happened before.

hd #3: This has never happened to us either.

Various other arguments ensued. The futility sunk in and I assumed my spot at the front of the newly minted "industry rush line." Two minutes later, they gave me a blank ticket with the name of the movie scrawled on it (they weren't kidding, they really didn't have any tickets to give me) and up I went to theatre number four, which had at least 50 empty seats. Aru?? I saved myself a spot and headed outside for some chill out time before the movie. These old bones can't handle all the excitement like they used to!

I'm glad I fought so hard for my rights, because At Night They Dance was the film of the fest so far. I was transported into the streets of Cairo, and was captivated by the lives of the belly dancers and the men who pay them. The rest of the audience loved it also - I know because the applause began on the very first frame of the credits. It's a foolproof way to gauge audience response - try it for yourself next time. This movie made me rethink my selections for the rest of the fest - I need to chose more movies that take me places instead of telling me things. I know a lot of things, but places, you can never be to enough of them.

All in all, my favorite night at the festival so far this year.