Fantastic Fest 2023 Diaries: Day Four
Due to Day 3’s late night, I definitely bail on my ambitions to attend an early morning press screening in favor of extra sleep. I wake up with just enough time to grab my Day 5 tickets. All I decide to pick up is a ticket for The Last Stop In Yuma County, which will be having its second and final screening at the fest, following its world premiere. I think about getting tickets to Letters To The Postman, but decide not to since it’s available in the festival’s online screening room. I needed a light day anyway.
I even decide to cancel my ticket for Michel Gondry’s The Book Of Solutions, which I really wanted to see, just so I can get some more sleep and take the dog out for a decent walk. Looking through the remaining schedule, I plot my adjustments, and I decide to catch The Book Of Solutions one the last day of the fest, instead of seeing the festival closer Totally Killer, which just looks like Hot Tub Time Machine as a slasher (and would be available on Prime Video shortly after the fest). I can also catch both the press screening considerations (Eileen and Suitable Flesh) later in the fest if tickets didn’t vanish.
I don’t make my way down to the theater until around 1:30pm. Still woozy from not enough sleep, I have just enough time to park and rush into the 2pm world premiere of Crumb Catcher.
With Crumb Catcher, writer/director Chris Skotchdopole seats terror and tragedy alongside dark drama and cringe comedy to create a topsy-turvy thriller that pits newlyweds against nutters. It’s an intriguing character-driven slow burn that lures you in with the characters and their relationship before winding its grip tighter and tighter and forcing them — and the viewer — into an awkward and squirmy situation that grows increasingly dizzying and delirious. The film follows a freshly married couple whose bright future is built on a wobbly foundation. The stress cracks are already there, but when a weird waiter with a bizarrely terrible invention becomes an unwelcome house guest who refuses to leave, veering out of drama and into a different kind of home invasion flick, the couple find themselves in a real pickle. Fortunately, if their marriage begins to crumble, there’s an invention for that; they’ll just have to sweep up the crumbs themselves. This tale of blackmail and bread crumbs is about the dark and light side of relationships and the trials and tribulations of marriage. It’s a confidently directed and really absorbing chamber piece that features four really great performances.
After the film’s Q&A, I hightail it to the Highball and order up a Red Bull to keep the eyelids opened. With roughly 90 minutes till the the next screening, I break away from the crowds and plop down in the shade in Medici’s outdoor seating area. I start working on my Day 3 write up, until I hear the call for all-badge seating for the world premiere of Stopmotion from the outside PA speaker in the distance. I gathered up my backpack and eagerly booked it on over to my designated theater.
Robert Morgan is a stop-motion animator with an incredibly morbid imagination, and his feature film debut, Stopmotion, was one of my most anticipated films at the festival. Man oh man, it did not let me down; it is a truly unique and unforgettable experience. I was honored to be in the crowd for its first official screening because it was fucking incredible and quickly became my favorite film of the festival — and a hard one to beat.
Stopmotion is a psychological horror about what it means to be artist that features an absolutely commanding lead performance from Aisling Franciosi. The film follows Ella, a stop-motion artist with an overbearing mother whose artistic prowess eclipses her own. Her mother’s hands aren’t what they used to be, so Ella — a poppet who plays with puppets — serves as the hands to her mother’s creative vision. When her mother suddenly falls ill, Ella is free to pursue her own creative pursuits, which leads to nightmarish visions and shocking results. Melding Morgan’s specific style with the psychological horror of Roman Polanski and the nightmare visions of David Lynch and the Quay Brothers, he cooks up a mesmerizingly visceral and metaphorical journey about the creative process, authorship and the artistic struggle, creativity with a mind of its own, and artists who kill themselves for the sake of their own art. The sound design is incredible, and it sells the otherworldly and surreal horrors. By the time the Ashman knocketh, you will be totally enamored by this hypnotic horror full of trippy terror, macabre madness, and fucked-up frights, but once it reaches its end, you will be complete shook.
After the film’s Q&A, I pass by Robert Morgan and let him know how astounding I think the film is and that it’s the best thing I’ve seen at the festival so far. He is caught off guard, but is humbled by the comment. I don’t linger, but dart outside to head home.
When I’m home, I walk take the dog for a long walk before the rain rolls through. I learn that the second secret screening was Dream Scenario with Nicolas Cage, which is another cool festival surprise I’m bummed to have missed. Oh well, maybe I’ll catch a secret screening one of these days.
Outside, the sky is streaked with a lot of lightning and lightly rumbling with thunder. Austin badly needs the rain, but it’s also the perfect atmosphere for the festival, seeing as Neil Ferron’s short film Fishmonger had its world premiere earlier at 5pm. I was unable to attend because I really needed to see Stopmotion, but I was lucky enough to get a screening and get a review drafted and timed to publish for its screening.
I get about two miles in with the pup. The rain is still way out in the distance, but the lightning danced and flittered all over the sky. I got really absorbed in taking some videos which I posted to my personal Instagram here. We make it home just before the sky busts open. I open up the sliding door, listen to the soothing sounds of the rain, and do a bit of light work until the power fails (gotta love that Texas grid). I figure that’s a sign to just call it a night, so I shuffle off to bed and hope that Morgan’s film doesn’t infiltrate my dreams.
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