A Dozen Lost Weekends on Film

I would have been satisfied with just the film fest, but my companion wanted dessert, too.

We agreed to meet at Can-Can and the one block walk from my car there left my tissue paper-thin silk dress wet with sweat.

Such an attractive way to enter an establishment.

But once seated at the bar, that was forgotten in the pleasures of  a Framboise fizz, made with mint tea, fresh raspberries, raspberry syrup, soda and a splash of lime.

As beautiful (and frothy) as it was delicious, the greatest pleasure was the bits of fresh raspberries that came up through the straw, bubble tea-like.

No wonder the barkeeps were making them endlessly.

Dessert was chocolate sticky toffee pudding cake, served with orange segments and the best part, brown sugar glaze.

The cake became something truly decadent after being dredged in that buttery glaze.

We left a bite or two, but only because we ran out of glaze. That and we intended to get buttered popcorn at the Byrd anyway.

Then it was on to the 48-Hour Film Project screening to see what local filmmakers had wrought in the 48 hours of last weekend's heat.

I saw a lot of local actors and directors in the films, including a handful I'd just seen in the gender-reversed Hamlet that Firehouse had done.

As with the past four years of this event, the acting, scriptwriting and technical savvy vary widely from film to film.

It seemed like there were more suburban locations used and fewer city landmarks than I recall from past years but Belle Isle, as always, put in an appearance.

Outtakes used over the credits continue to get a good laugh. It seemed that music was used to especially good effect this year.

No subject was so taboo as to be off limits: cancer, death and diarrhea all reared their comedic heads.

As a precaution, the audience was warned ahead of time about language, subject matter and possible nudity (butt cracks and a bra and underwear shot being the extent of that), "In case you brought children or are easily offended."

At the conclusion of the screening, we cast our ballots for the audience favorites while the judges will decide which film goes on to the National 48-Hour Film Project screening.

Personally, I would be quite satisfied with cancer, death or diarrhea representing Richmond.

But I'm no film critic.