Fantastic Fest 2022 Diaries: Day Four
With a full night of rest, I was able to rise early enough to make a Press & Industry screening — my first of the festival — for Martin McDonagh’s The Banshees Of Inisherin, which had its US premiere the night before. I took Lucy for a quick walk, gave her breakfast, and got the coffee maker revved up. I jumped through the shower while the coffee pot was filling up, and got ready for my day.
I decided to rock my red Fontaines D.C. tour shirt with the yellow font that I had acquired at last night’s concert. I’m a bit biased, but it was a good fit; it looked smashing with my black jeans. I looked into the mirror and called myself a “sexy bitch,” as I spritzed on a bit of cologne.
Striding through my apartment, leaving behind a fragrant wake as I went, I ventured back into the kitchen, sucked down a quick cup of coffee, and filled up a giant to-go mug for my travels. Before ducking out the door, I gave Lucy a farewell smooch on the noggin and told her I’d be back later around 1 p.m.
On a Sunday, at this early morning hour, traffic was easy-going and light. Still, I was pushing it on time again, and had to be mindful not to dawdle on the drive in. The lights on Lamar were in my favor, giving me the green the whole way in, which really helped the race against the clock. I was parked with minutes to go to the 8 a.m. start time, so I applied a bit of hustle.
It took me a minute to find the unlocked door. I comedically started at the far-left door and worked my way right, striking out several times while a staff member stoically eyed my failure. Eventually, I found the open door and entered the lobby with an jovial exclamation of, “I’ll figure it out, it just takes some time.” The staff member said something like, “Don’t worry, we’re all still hungover from last night; no judgment here.” “Speak for yourself,” said another press member jokingly. I signed in for Banshees and skedaddled on over to the theater.
The Banshees Of Inisherin was a highly enjoyable watch. The film finds McDonagh reteaming with In Bruges actors Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson for another tragic, comedy-laced fable, and it’s the closest he’s come to capturing the success of his debut. It successfully captures the grim, adult-edged fairytale quality and tragic fatalism of In Bruges, but without quite reaching the same level of blistering, side-splitting humor. But make no mistake, even though it’s not as funny as In Bruges (and let’s face it, few things are), Banshees is a McDonagh film through and through, so it still delivers a sharply written, wickedly funny ride! It’s probably his prettiest movie — and it’s definitely his saddest and most introspective. It goes without saying, but the performances are also feckin’ spectacular.
The massive to-go coffee I had consumed had flowed right through me. It made sitting through the last 15 minutes of Banshees a wee bit of a struggle, but I managed to stick it out. After the film concluded, I quickly collected my thoughts and my things and made a beeline for the restroom. With the bladder emptied and the body calmed, it was time to head on over to Medici cafe for continued caffeination.
The line was long, sieging their 360° Cheers-style bar as it wrapped around and nearly spilled out the door. I had a little over an hour to kill until the next screening, so I had no problem waiting, especially for cold brew. The baristas looked a bit shell shocked by the swarming coffee-craving crowd, but they pushed through the madness. As winding as the line was, it moved rather quickly, and soon enough, I had a cold brew and banana bread in hand.
I settled into a small table outside in the shade, and sparked up an HHC Shorty to aide the relaxation. Sipping cold brew and smoking, I tried gathering my thoughts on yesterday, but at this juncture in the fest, my mind is melting into mush. Struggling to articulate, I opted to enjoy the weather and the banana bread instead.
I was approached by another festival-goer, a far-out type, who had caught wind of my tiny legal jointski. He told me his name, but it instantly evaporated from my memory. He was questing for a bit of Mary Jane and was disappointed to learn I was partaking in the far more subdued, hemp-derived version. “So, no gots?” He asked in desperation. “No sir, no gots,” I said. Tail between legs, the far-out festival goer sailed on.
I finished off my coffee, swept away my banana bread crumbs, and managed to exorcise a few decently intelligible thoughts on yesterday’s festival experience. I checked my messages to see if Mickey Reece had gotten back to me; we were going to try to sync up for an interview before he heads back to Oklahoma tomorrow. Nothing yet. The shade had dwindled and the sun was burning unobstructed. I was starting to feel the heat of the day on my neck, and it was time for the next screening, so I shuffled back toward the theater.
The next film of the day was a documentary from Alexandre O. Philippe called Lynch/Oz. Philippe had previously examined Hitchcock’s Psycho, Friedkin’s Exorcist, and Scott’s Alien, and now he shifted his sights on the surreal body of work of David Lynch. The film is a fitting, affectionately articulated love letter to the Lychian that uses Lynch's immense adoration for The Wizard of Oz as a means to contextualizing his work and the weird worlds therein. Sectioned out into chapters that are led by different critics and indie filmmakers, including John Waters and David Lowery, Lynch/Oz takes an academic approach to its dissection. It’s more fascinating than it is fun, but if you a Lynch fan (like we are here), it’s well worth a watch.
With no word yet from Reece, I headed back home to take the dog out for a longer walk. I had a 4 hour window until the next screening, so I wanted to make the most of it and get some work done as well. Lucy and I got in a little over a mile, and then we headed back home. The banana bread could no longer hold me over, and with a rumbling tummy, I prepared some lunch for myself. With sustenance acquired, I punched up the Day-Three diary, and published it.
Around 3:40 p.m. I got a message that Reece was in the Highball Lounge, which I didn’t see until after 4. I wouldn’t be able to drive down in time to conduct an interview before the next screening, so I relayed that info and asked if he had any free time after the secret screening. After firing off the text, I gave Lucy an early dinner and headed back down to the festival.
The next film was the latest from Luca Guadagnino, who couldn’t attend the festival in person, but recorded a special message for all us Fantastic Festers, which was nice. I ate Bones And All right up. I think it’s the most unique take on the cannibal genre since Julia Ducornau’s Raw. It’s a ravenously romantic road film about young cannibals that’s totally anchored by stellar performances from all involved, with a bit of a Badlands and Bonnie and Clyde vibe that gives the whole journey a beautifully poetic feeling. The palpable romanticism is interestingly contrasted by brutal bites of horror and gruesome gore. Guadagnino continues to explore and celebrate who we are with a compassionate and naturalistic style and an unobtrusive lens, and Bones And All is totally intoxicating and affecting effort. It kind of occupies an interesting crossroads that connects Call Me By Your Name with Suspiria. The only way it could get more interesting is if Armie Hammer was in it, as opposed to Timothée Chalamet. Oh man, could you imagine that?! Let this one take you for an all-consuming ride! Can’t wait to see again.
After my bell was rung with Bones And All, I stretched my legs and went for a walk around the neighborhood. It was nice and quiet, and the weather had cooled down. As I walked, I logged all the screenings for the past couple of days in Letterboxd, since I had fallen behind. I managed to get the Letterboxd log up to date, and even scrawled out a few sentences for each film, which was harder than it sounds when your mind was melting more and more to mush with each movie. I meandered about until the clock struck about 8 p.m., and then I turned back toward the theater for the first secret screening of the festival.
As I pushed through the dense crowd, I wondered what the secret screening could be. Aronofsky’s The Whale would be cool, especially if Brendan Fraser turned up. Halloween Ends would be kinda cool, too. My mind struggled to come up with other possibilities. I went to my theater, but they weren’t seating; they weren’t seating any theaters yet, apparently. The staff is quick to clear loiterers out of the long hallway connecting the auditoriums, but I found a stool tucked into a corner which I thought would camouflage me pretty well. I posted up there and waited for them to commence seating, which seemed like an eternity because I was in the last theater to be sat. It was the busiest I’d seen the festival so far, with staff members funnelling bodies to their designated theaters with the graceful motions of an aircraft marshaller. Eventually the chaos and confusion settled, and Theater 9 finally opened up to everyone for seating.
Four auditoriums had filled up for the secret screening, which are generally pretty exciting. Last year, they showed Edgar Wright’s Last Night In Soho, which was a big deal (even though it didn’t land with us). Folks were chattering in their seats speculating what the secret screening could be. Finally, Fantastic Fest Director of Programming Annick Mahnert took to the stage to reveal what Secret Screening #1 was to be, which was…. Werewolf By Night, a Disney/Marvel TV special that would stream on Disney+ on October 7th?! Well, okay then…
Despite being the first — and maybe only — group to see Werewolf By Night is a theater, disappointment pretty rapidly spread through the crowd. I’m not a fan of Marvel or Disney, so I didn’t really care about this reveal, but I sat and watched it anyway. It has a cool digital throwback aesthetic and a solid score (because it’s directed and composed by Michael Giacchino), but it was largely underwhelming —and incredibly short; I didn’t even have time to finish my churro popcorn! I’m sure there were lots of walkouts on this one. Even I bailed on the Q&A that Giacchino graciously Skyped in for. Let’s hope the next secret screening is much better — and an actual full-length film!
I carried my disappointment out of the theater and all the way home. I had missed Reece again, which is just how it goes sometimes in the bustling madness of the festival. I would try to sync up with him later for another phone interview.
At home, after the dog was taken for a walk, I plopped in the recliner and pulled up the Fantastic Fest digital screening room. Even though I was dead tired, I put on A Life On The Farm, a weird documentary that examines a strange family artifact and its maker. I watched about a half hour, but with increasingly heavy eyelids, I feel into a deep slumber.
Fiending for more Fantastic Fest?! Check out the links below:
Fantastic Fest 2022 Diaries: Day One
Fantastic Fest 2022 Diaries: Day Two
Fantastic Fest 2022 Diaries: Day Three
Fantastic Fest 2022 Diaries: Day Five
Fantastic Fest 2022 Diaries: Day Six
Fantastic Fest 2022 Diaries: Day Seven
Fantastic Fest 2022 Diaries: Day Eight
Fantastic Fest 2022 reviews
Fantastic Fest 2022 podcasts
Fantastic Fest 2022 lists
What do you think? We want to know. Share your thoughts and feelings in the comments section below, and as always, remember to viddy well!