Festival Screenings

FESTIVAL SCREENINGS

CINEMAGIC & GIFFONI

The approach to film festivals and markets fall into two distinct types for filmmakers - the celebration and the sell. Both of them tend to be gut-wrenching for different reasons, either the anticipation of how an audience will react or the hope of interesting future collaborators and financiers. The latter was especially true in years gone by, before independent film began to be swamped by the age of the streamers, a change of emphasis only accelerated during the Covid era. In any case, developing a project has always been just the beginning of a tortuous journey to finally getting the final story in front of viewers.

That process eventually gets us to the other type of festival - the invitation to screen your baby as part of a curated schedule. I suppose some personalities enjoy the process of revealing the film before an expectant audience in a special one-off. More sensible people feel the tension. After all, apart from some test screenings during the post-production process (when people gleefully tell you how better it could have been), this is the first time the final product will be screened. No matter that the organizers are willing the showing will be a success, there are no guarantees.

For "Rainbow" in 1995, we were invited to two festivals, programs for younger audiences that are still thriving today.

In November, we took a print to Belfast for Cinemagic. Chief memories for this trip mainly centred on the tremendous hospitality supplied by the festival staff (that year the festival seemed to be exclusively run by women). If helped that our director Bob Hoskins provided a boisterous presence and the copious dinners and parties, fuelled by alcohol and impromptu Riverdance demonstrations, meant the few days were a blur of laughter.

The other memory was the screening itself. The opening night premiere was at the modern multi-screen MGM Cinema in Dublin Road, a theatre that first opened its doors in 1993, but was demolished in 2021. It was good to have a relatively up to date theatre for the film, because although of course the story-telling was of primary importance, it was also a technological first - the first all-digital motion picture. So it deserved the best.

A packed house gathered on a chilly November night and we were confident "Rainbow" would look good. After all, it had been rehearsed earlier in the day with visuals and sound balanced. We had also decided to put an added bonus on the film for special screenings - an Overture that would play in the background as the house lights dimmed and curtains opened. Just as the music finishes it was timed for the first titles to appear on screen. It was a fun idea.

Unfortunately, it wasn't designed for modern cinemas.

Before the film was shown there was a short. A very good animated short, as I remember. Problem was that meant the lights were already down and screen open. No turning back when everything is automated, which resulted for "Rainbow" in two minutes of dark with music. Never a good idea, because most people naturally thought something had gone wrong.

(In fact, it got worse with the release prints a few months later because somehow the Overture was left on by the lab, causing a flood of panicky calls from cinemas, let alone bewilderment from audiences! But the distribution was another story...)

In any case, we survived and had a great evening with our Irish hosts. Actually, there was one other event from the trip, a screenwriting class we held for students the following day, which was actually quite invigorating (or at least a potent tonic for the thumping hangover).

The second festival was in the sunnier climes of Giffoni Valle Piana in south-west Italy during late July 1996. A well-established event, the Giffoni Film Festival is actually a lot of fun and genuinely celebrates movies for young people in a lovely setting. Since it had been running for twenty-five years by the time we arrived, there was no doubting that it would be professionally run.

This time Bob couldn't be there and instead spoke to the competition jury via video conference. However, the hospitality was again open and generous. In fact, the relaxed, affectionately disorganized feel should have been a red flag. One of the aspects we had been confused about prior to arrival was how the film was to be shown - had they prepared subtitles to show alongside the screen, or had the Italian distributors already sent a dubbed print? Nothing prepared us for what actually took place.

I seem to remember it wasn't a big auditorium, although the screen was good enough. It was strange, though, that after introductions were made, three people proceeded to gather around a microphone just to the side of the screen, thick wads of paper in their hands. Even when the lights went down, they remained. It started to dawn about what was to happen, even if my mind refused to accept the concept.

The film is pure visuals and music for the opening shots and the soundtrack boomed around the cinema - then the first dialogue scene started and suddenly the 'performers' at the microphone spoke the Italian translation over the English voices. After the first moments of shock, we had to laugh, both at the craziness of the situation and the simplicity of translation. A real live action cinema fusion.

Then the reels went out of order.

The centrepiece rainbow ride that transports the kids across America to Kansas was missing, which not only made a nonsense of the narrative, it threw the intrepid Italian performers into confusion and eventual panic. Taking it upon myself to somehow rectify the situation, I darted to the back and into the projection booth, meaning to help get the right reel up. Opening the door, the image is seared into my memory - two men with cigarettes dangling from their mouths, buried beneath a mound of celluloid spinning out into the air from sputtering projectors. The irony of our pioneering efforts to push technical boundaries was not lost. Joining people outside on the small town street, in the sun and cigarette smoke, the screening was over.

A lovely outdoor evening meal preceded the eventual awards ceremony. We couldn't blame anyone for not recognizing our art, although one of the officials did rush over with a special medal, either out of shame or as a mistake. We never did find out which it was. What both screenings proved, however, is that for sensible people it's right to be tense.