terribly bad and remarkably loud

As I reported earlier, my short-ish film COVERAGE got into The Method Fest – a film festival in northern Los Angeles – where it made its world premiere in front of a group of mostly strangers last Friday night.  Laura, Ryan (D.P.), and I made the trip out west last week to attend, and it has been such a profound experience (in many ways) that I’m unable to keep from writing about it any longer.  I’m not even sure where to begin, so I will just begin with a review for a film that shall remain nameless:

I am sitting in a theatre with Laura feeling like I may actually throw up.  We are about ten minutes into our second feature of the festival, and it is both terribly bad and remarkably loud.  I am a person that has always liked my movies loud, and – until this moment – it never occurred to me that a movie could be too loud.  No more.  The audio of this film is inescapably loud, so loud that the speakers occasionally distort from the strain of it, so loud that I take turns plugging one ear and then the other to keep my brain from exploding.  The fact that the film is also obnoxiously horrible creates a Clockwork Orange-like nightmare that feels like a slow death.  “I have to get out of here,” I say to Laura, her face scrunched up into a look of terror and confusion.

“We can’t leave,” she says, “it will look bad if we leave.”  I hesitantly agree, return my gaze to the mess on the screen, and consider Malcom McDowell.  The situation doesn’t improve, and I am amazed to notice that we seem to be the only two people in the theatre who are suffering – in fact, many of the others seem to be enjoying this experience.  Sadly, I am too overwhelmed to hate or pity them, I just need to get out.  The realization that there is no possible way we will make it through an hour and a half of this seems to come to us simultaneously, as Laura turns to me – her eyes and forehead squinched up with pain – and simply says “OK” at which point we quickly grab our things and stagger towards the exit.

We don’t say a word as we make our way down the hall, through the front lobby, and finally out the front doors of the theatre.  When we are safe within the confines of our rental car, I finally summon the strength to mumble “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What?” Laura weakly responds, and we both close our eyes and sit silently for a few minutes trying to make the horrible feeling go away.

FIVE OUT OF FIVE STARS!

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