Going to Hell at the—great—LA Film Festival

I’ve seen Hell and it looks like a midnight screening of The Beach Party at the Threshold of Hell. Post Apocalypse America according to writer/director Kevin Wheatley looks like a bunch of mongoloids beating each other up with hammers. As much as I support indie filmmaking and hate mainstream crap, there should be some kind of filmmaking law that would prohibit geeks from making movies. The festival catalog stated it was entertaining – I probably be more entertained by a documentary about the sexuality of snails.

Talking about sexuality and snails—which is a French delicacy—French sleaze master Francois Ozon—was there to present his new film, Time to Leave. While lightly bordering on pathos, this new entry in his “death trilogy”—the first one was Under the Sand—was quite satisfying, mostly thanks to a great performance by Melvil Poupaud. As usual, there was plenty of gratuitous nudity and sex, but this time gorgeous French creatures have been replaced by gay guys!

And now to get back to the festival itself, with its new home in Westwood, the festival has turned into a large-scale event, which might overshadow AFI fest. Using great venues such as the Crest, the Hammer museum, street screenings (last night I saw bits of West Side Story), an upscaled Target room & lots of parking, the festival went from intimate fest to an established event, without losing its rock n roll spirit. God Saves The LA Film Fest!