So, I was understandably shocked to discover the Deep Ellum Film Festival even existed, in this oft cultureless, money obsessed void that Dallas, Texas seems to have become. However, I was NOT surprised to discover that the Deep Ellum fest apparently had little to offer as I scrolled down their lengthy list of mostly uninteresting and likely shoddy events. Convinced I should at least make an effort to dip myself into the pretentious Dallas film scene, I picked what looked like the most interesting of the lot to see, Frailty, the latest directorial effort of actor Bill Paxton.
Driving into the money obsessed, entertainment rich Greenville area of Dallas is never usually high on my list of things to do. Because, while there's lots of fun to be had there, most of it seems to involve more money than I generally carry in my wallet. But this time I made an exception, and ventured out to Mockingbird Station, home of the new Angelika Film Center and Cafe, Greenville's latest arthouse theater, surrounded with the usual impressive fair of restaurants and trendy, over-priced coffee shops.
Making my way inside, past an assorted collection of tight leather pants and lesbian life-partners, I instantly found the Angelika likeable, in its own snooty, we have a really big chandelier, kind of way. And though ten bucks seemed a somewhat high price to pay for an art flick, I reminded myself that this was the film's world premier, so maybe it was worth it.
Up the stairs, hot pink and blue ticket in hand, to the gathered throng of Dallas movie lovers and filmmakers, chatting and drinking their steaming hot latte's. Scratch that, these people weren't movie lovers, they were ALL filmmakers. I could tell, because well over half of them wore little badges proclaiming them so. It was at this point I realized I was the enemy. A Film Critic in a den of moviemakers. Realizing it might be best to keep my head down, I quietly took my place in line behind the fashionably dressed throng of indie flick directors and wannabe actors.
As an aside, one has to question what type of city has so many people making movies, when there are apparently so very few people interested in seeing them. Regardless, after an hour of waiting, and some spectacularly entertaining people watching, the line moved towards the door where a nicely dressed man stood shaking the hand of everyone as they went in.
This quickly became irritating to those of us trapped at the end of the line, as it caused our little knot of weary line lackeys to move at an interminably SLOW pace. However, just when I began to enjoy the grumbling, the irritation turned to whispering mixed with a bit of casual pointing. It was then I realized that that was no well-dressed man, that was Bill Paxton! How many directors greet the audience before their movie? Well, it can't be that common, because I don't seem to remember meeting George Lucas or John Woo recently.
Then I was there, shaking Bill's hand, and talking to him about his film. Listening as he thanked ME for coming, and told me how glad he was that I'd taken the time out to see his film, and saying something about how he was a little nervous, but he really hoped I liked it, to which I responded with some sort of thank you followed by I'm really looking forward to seeing it... which hopefully sounded sincere, even though I honestly had no idea what the film was about.
Into the theater we marched, stopping only a moment to hear Bill comment to the schmo behind me "Hey man I'm not like those other stuck up Hollywood types, I really appreciate what you all are doin for me." From someone else that might have sounded like he was blowing smoke, for some reason, coming out in his folksy accent it actually sounded sincere.
Into my seat, time for introductions. A large man with a beard, who obviously thinks he is important, picks up a mic and prattles on about how obviously wonderful the Deep Ellum Film Festival must be since Bill Paxton is premiering his film Frailty here. I tuned out shortly after that. I've little patience for self-aggrandizing behavior. Then he hands the mic to Paxton, who introduces other members of the crew and cast present (just about everyone in the movie who isn't famous was there) and on to the movie. "Wait wait!" cries Paxton, waving at the projection booth. Like some sort of over-sugared Japanese tourist, he pulls out a little camera and snaps some shots of audience. Somewhere in the depths of the Paxton estate, there is a picture of a very amused Hobbit sitting next to a gorgeous blonde.
The high sign is given and the film begins. I've never thought of Bill Paxton as much of an actor... but evidently I was wrong. McConaughey is great too, winding in and out of flashbacks, with some of the best child acting I've seen since Haley Joel Osmet. And then it's over, 2 hours gone in the blink of an eye, an audience left breathless and surprised to see such simply GREAT movie making from such a goofball guy. Like the man himself, the film is unpretentious, but smart, very smart.
Uh oh, the fat man has the mic again... ah this time he is ass kissing. Well at least he's not plugging himself. This is quite nice. Hmmm, Paxton is ignoring him, good. Maybe he'll go away then. Oh lovely, Paxton has taken the mic. More introductions, Paxton says he really doesn't deserve any credit, this thing turned out the way it did because of these people and he hands off the mic so he can goof around with his son.
Q&A time. How long did it take to shoot? 41 days. When will Frailty be released and how widely? In February 2002 on 1500 screens. Then more detailed questions about plot and lighting angles... wannabe filmmakers trying to prove how much they know. Of course, there is the obligatory question about film critics: "Bill, how do you feel about film critics?" "What do you do with a film critic up to his neck in cement? Add more cement!" Hmmm... perhaps I really should keep my head down.
And towards the door... into a line of people calmly waiting for autographs and more hand shaking. Ah nice, good old Bill has decided to go, now we can get out. We trot out the door... only to find Mr. Paxton standing and talking around the corner with his wife and friends. Lady Hobbit can't resist and she drags me over against my feeble protests of "aw don't bug the guy, he gets enough of that." But Bill is gracious, and takes her ticket stub telling her "I'm trying not to sign too many of these tonight" to which Lady Hobbit responds with a smile and a wink, "well I'll only give you one then!" Then towards the exit with another thanks and we love your work (Lady Hobbit is a hugely misguided Twister fan, and tells him so). I struggle to keep my blonde bombshell from falling apart into a puddle of silly giggles, and nearly succeed until the elevator doors close and she turns a lovely shade of red, only to burst out into nervous and prolonged schoolgirl giggly laughter. Alright, I'll admit it, I might have giggled a bit too.
Hey, gimme a break! It was Bill freakin Paxton! Aliens, Twister, Apollo 13, True Lies, Vertical Limit... the man has been in half the movies I've seen in the past decade. I suppose if I lived in Hollywood I might bump into his sort every day, but I'm just a simple Dallas Film Hobbit.
At least we avoided that horrid band playing near the stairs on the way out
