“Do: make friends. Don’t: be an ass.”—Filmmaker Kimberly Levin on Working the Festival Circuit
Months have passed since the 2014 Los Angeles Film Festival wrapped, but many of our Festival filmmakers are still hard at work, making the rounds on the circuit. We caught up with writer-director Kimberly Levin, whose debut feature Runoff premiered at the Festival, about the current status of her film and what she’s learned on her travels. Here’s what she wrote:
On what’s new on the circuit:
We’re at the very beginning of our festival journey with Runoff. I’m very excited about the East Coast premiere that’s just been announced: we’ll be playing back-to-back the Hamptons International Film Festival on October 10 and 12 and the Woodstock Film Festival the next weekend on October 18 and 19.
On Festival Do’s and Don’ts:
DO: Make friends. As the festival starts your mind will be racing: Is the second screening sold out? Does that weird shadow on the poster look like a fetal pig? I hope the hummus dip from the meet-and-greet doesn’t make me gassy. Are you kidding, I have to pitch my film? I want to crawl back into the bed at the hotel. I wish I had a bed like that at home. Is it too late to check my DCP again? What’s this stain on my pants?… Yes, your festival experience is about you and your film, and you could spend the whole time in your head. But you’re surrounded by amazing filmmakers from all over the world. They’re in the hallways of the theater, at the breakfast buffet, in the lobby…it’s a gathering of crazy people just like you, or at least more like you than most other people. You’ll be traveling the festival circuit with them, seeing each other’s films, maybe you’ll even collaborate on a project someday. So take a break from your headspace and say hi.
DON’T: Be an ass. Just like our films, most festivals are run on a shoestring budget by passionate, overworked, underpaid cineastes and dedicated volunteers, all in the service of bringing our films to an audience. Chances are that at some point, at some festival, something will go wrong. Your screening may start late; the AC in the theater may fail; your print (or the digital equivalent) may even burst into flames in the projection booth. And at that moment the only thing you may be able to control is your reaction.
On her most successful or exciting festival moment to date:
There’s a small group of us at the bar as the after party of the world premiere of Runoff is winding down—the two leads, Joanne Kelly and Neal Huff, DP Hermes Marco and producer Kurt Pitzer. Excitement is giving way to a collective sense of relief. But it’s a “letdown” kind of relief that you feel when something you’ve been working toward for a long time is finally over. It’s closing time. The lights come on. The high from the night is wearing off, leaving a sense of dread in its place. There’s an unspoken feeling of “Now what?” As the bar staff stacks the chairs onto the tables, an email chimes on Kurt’s phone. None of us really notice until he starts reading aloud. It’s the Variety review, first in. I desperately try to wave him off without the others seeing. This cannot be a good idea—to read the review cold to the people most likely to be mentioned. But the group is already huddled around him. I try to think of distracting things to say. I wonder if it’s possible for him to scan ahead and edit things out as he goes. This is impossible. I feel like I’m going to puke. There is no stopping this. He keeps reading, and with each sentence a round of applause goes up and glasses are lifted. After such a long time working in a kind of bubble on the script, and later on the edit and in post, amid all the doubts and self-torture, it is surreal to hear these words, someone getting what you were trying to do.
Kimberly Levin / Filmmaker