So I totted it up, and this year I caught 14 films in the theatre at the Independent Film Festival of Boston. Non c'e male, particularly because the fest's continued success means it now stretches from Wednesday to Wednesday, although my attendance did not. See, the first Wednesday was my last day of teaching, and it seemed somewhat churlish to skate out early. And the final Wednesday landed midway through exam week, and those papers and finals [80 in all] stubbornly refused to grade themselves. Jerks.
The cinetrix also went to parties, a first for me at this fest. You definitely should check out the Liberty Hotel if you're in Boston [a pal who'd been a Boston cop doubted that they'd kept the delousing station on the second floor, but we didn't investigate]. Sagra [meh] played host to some dancing, as well as an awkward self-intro to someone Facebook keeps insisting I friend.
Still sorting through a handful of screeners, but the plan is to start posting individual reviews this week. Before I commence, all thanks truly are due to the following:
- the all-volunteer executive board and staff for being insane enough to put this thing together every year
- the residents of that apartment on Meacham Street, where I ended up at parties not one, but two nights, ill-advisedly drinking a strong beer from Pretty Things, St. Botolph's. [My liver is securing legal counsel.]
- Eric Masunaga [yeah, that guy], of IFFBoston sponsors Modulus, for excellent conversations, old-Boston-people bonding, and even a ride home from the Liberty.
