Kaetlin Perna
November 17, 2006

Last week, I had the honor of attending the High Falls Film Festival, an event devoted to female filmmakers and/or films where women plan a pivotal role in the production. I, with my friend Mariah, sat and watched the Shorts Program #1. Before the films started, the curator came out and introduced the program. Because we could not hear her, a volunteer with the festival, clad in cargo pants, a festival t-shirt and a tote bag full of festival swag, pushed the microphone toward the speakers face. I've got to tell you, that image there made me feel like festivals are really pretentious.

I'm sitting there, excited about the short films, repeating to myself "this is what I want to do, this is what I want to do," and the speaker in her very "I'm a curator and I will speak in that low, intellectual and slightly pretentious" voice of hers, introduced the local filmmakers of the evening with extended bio that feels longer than my very own CV. The people, the very "upper middle class, tofu eating, I'm special because I have a week-long festival pass" people clap lightly for the filmmakers. I've never felt so out of place. The films finally start, they are, like always (in my mind), original and imaginative. When we arrive at the second film: a Russian animation filled with several sexual images of all kinds, snickers could be heard behind me, revealing the discomfort of the aforementioned people.

You see, most film festivals are pretty much run like this: cargo jeaned volunteers, snotty festival pass holders and the occasional off beat film. High Falls felt like a very mini-Toronto in marketing and in organization, and the toted volunteer revealed that to me. Yes, it's well organized, but like the A-list festivals ( Toronto , Cannes, Sundance, etc), it feels like people were only there for the glamour and prestige of it, instead of the art of it. It's no wonder when they advertise the films screened eventually went on to win Oscars and Golden Globes, and were "amazing."

I can't say the same for the Rochester International Film Festival, where every film presented is a short film and is presented with a jury prize at the end (one usually goes on to the Best of the Fest collection archived at the George Eastman House). No matter how crappy the films may be, there is a sense of pride and accomplishment for the films being made. And whenever I have gone in the past two years, the audience is always pretty full and very responsive. The work ethic shows, the passion is apparent and every film screened is equal. It's the substance not the glory.

I think my problem, again, is with Rochester itself. I would not feel this way if I were in a big city dealing with the abundance of film festivals and the normality of snottiness that lingers in productions of one. Rochester is so content in it's own mediocrity that people, like the organizers of the High Falls Film Festival, will prey on the casual stargazing attitudes of it's own audience and bait them with "Phillip Seymour Hoffman's brother's (not that Gordy isn't great, he wrote 'Love Liza') directorial debut" and "Angelica Huston sits on the board." Why does it have to be this? Maybe the organizers should focus less on t-shirts and swag, stop talking on their little walkie talkies, and realize it's about the films, and there are other festivals that demonstrate that.

Success in any organization lies not in what you can "amazingly" offer the person who's attending, but not questioning the intelligence of those who would attend regardless. I, being someone who enjoys short films, will attend anyway. There are not many festivals that will keep showing them, as regularly as places like High Falls Film Festival will and do. And even though my criticism of the whole thing, I still think it's a good start for young, aspiring short filmmakers such as myself.