Call Me

As enjoyable as my evening was, the highlight came when I got home.

I'd just gotten in and the phone rang - mind you it's almost midnight - and when I answer, I hear a friend's deep voice asking, "You just getting home from the cluuub?"

I laughed so long and hard he accused me of being wine-drunk when I hadn't had anything to drink for days. It was just such an unlikely thing to hear, especially with his unexpectedly suave delivery.

Just to enjoy another good laugh, I made him say it to me again before we hung up.

But I hadn't been out at the club, I'd been watching filmmakers screen their latest works, listening to a D.C. shoegaze band and eating pizza. The beauty of it was that I'd done all that in one place.

Tonight was the sixth anniversary of the James River Filmmakers Forum, a far cry from the very first forum held at the former Carver Healing Arts Center (the building that went on to be sued for Obama's first Richmond campaign), which I'd attended a lifetime ago in 2009.

Back then, I'd known no one and tonight I recognized several people during the mingling period. I even met strangers. A man came up and introduced himself as an avid fan of the James River Film Society.

In fact, he'd been their very first (and unsolicited) donor years ago, after attending an event and wanting to help support them. What's interesting about that is that just today I was reading an article about the woman who was the first donor to the Smithsonian's African-American museum.

It had never occurred to me that being the first donor was a thing, but twice in one day I'd seen proof otherwise.

Chatting with the one I met tonight, I learned he was from the West End. When he heard I live in Jackson Ward, he wanted to know more about the restaurant scene in my neighborhood. His proposition was to meet at one and have me tell him all about the others.

Just call me the J-Ward ambassador.

The genial gentleman behind the repertory movie theater project was also there and, as always, I put in my plug for locating it in the Arts District (also known as my 'hood). He wants to meet and talk about the theater's board, but I'm not sure I'm board material.

On the other hand, he's become a pro at biscuit-making (he's a Southern boy), having learned from his grandmother, something I wish I'd the sense to do. Maybe he can provide biscuit=making tips.

But I digress.

Like that very first forum, tonight's program of films was eclectic but with a much darker slant.

"Bill" traced the path of a $20 bill through many hands and all kinds of recognizable places: Ipanema, the rocks at Belle Isle, Fine Foods in Oregon Hill. The one place I didn't recognize was the street where the prostitute plied her trade.

Maybe I 'm not supposed to know that sort of thing.

Much darker was "Memory," shot at the VCU School of Nursing and dealing with mental imbalance after the death of a young patient.

Most unique was "Emotional Dimensions of the James River," a project initiated by a 15-year old scientist and artist (who knew you could be both at 15?) with music and visuals conveying joy, sadness, anger and fear, created separately and not co-joined until the editing process.

For something completely different, there was "Optimist, Pessimist, Solipsist," completely hand-drawn in #2 pencil and chronicling three unlikely characters. It was voiced by actor Alan Sader, whom I've seen tear it up onstage so many times.

After so much film drama, we had intermission and D.C. shoegaze band These Quiet Colours got up and played for the crowd in the dark while delicate videos of pastel flowers opening played on the screen.

Theirs was a shoegaze-influenced sound with shimmering guitars and lots of reverb, meaning they were very much my kind of band. I heard that the British singer used to be in Florence and the Machine and she certainly had a beautiful enough voice to believe it.

One thing that struck me was that it had to be the first time I'd seen a band playing on carpet. Between the high-ceilinged room and the carpet tiles, it was a good room for the sound they were creating. No hard edges.

After their too brief set, we all dove into a table laid out with three kinds of pizza, nourishment to get us through the rest of the screenings.

Good thing, too, because the last two were especially heavy.

For his first Virginia screening, the filmmaker, who was from Cleveland, had gotten off the plane in Richmond, looked around and said, "You call this snow?" Tonight he was showing us his least gory movie.

"Lock-Out/Tag-Out" began with statistics about pay and accidents for those working for the elevator unions before telling a tragic story of suicide and death by elevator, with a sex scene and Lucky Charms along the way.

The night ended with "Neco's Basement," an even grislier tale of a sleazy guy who hits on young girls at a club (Off the Hookah) and then kidnaps them afterwards. Let's just say a lot of blood was spilled in that basement and it wasn't just Neco doing the bludgeoning.

These Quiet Colours played one short final set before the evening ended, giving us one more shot of music from a cave (my favorite, you know) on which to send the remaining film lovers out into the night.

Where, it should be noted, I walked outside to see an SUV barreling down Main Street in the wrong direction. The surprising part was that no one honked at him until he almost hit an oncoming car.

What do you think those horns are for, idiots? Warning devices!

Luckily, I was headed away from the runaway SUV and back toward the relative safety of home.

Where I am still chuckling about being accused of just coming in from the cluuub. Friend, if I'd been at the cluuub - like I was last Saturday night - I can assure you I wouldn't be home this early.

Action!

The beach is good for many things, but culture is rarely one of them.

So after getting settled in and having dinner with a good friend on a patio where we saw three army planes fly overhead in formation, I was ready to be stimulated.

The James River Filmmakers Forum was just the ticket.

A bar, free popcorn and a roomful of talent ensured a stimulating way to spend the evening.

I even had company, sitting down next to a woman who told me she "lived on the bay."

And yet here she was on this Saturday night.

Surely there was a story there.

Further nosiness revealed that she lives in Whitestone, has no husband or boyfriend (so usually cooks Punjabi for herself) and drove in because she'd previously seen the work of Fabian Rush, one of the filmmakers screening tonight.

From me, she wanted to know what I thought of Deco, how often I came to the Northern Neck and if I was a filmmaker.

All this and popcorn gratis.

Tonight's event was dedicated to long-time James River Film Society volunteer James Parrish, not because he's dead but because he's moved on to other film-related projects.

His honey-coated southern drawl will be missed.

Screened first was Fabian Rush's "DWAM," which he described as resulting from making his nightmares into short, surrealistic films.

A horror film, in other words, that captured the mood and essence of a dream.

This one was about a woman who lives alone in the woods (always a bad idea) with a wolf/dog and what happens when she begins to hear demonic sounds at 3 a.m.

Nothing good, I can assure you.

For something completely different, we then saw an installment of the Dodd Brothers' web series, "The Drunk Skeptic."

Centered around two PBR-drinking guys (ergo, set in Richmond), this episode was called, "Pick Up Your F*cking Trash."

A slacker comedy, it involved one of the guys being hit by a car, only to have his head cut open and beer inserted.

On the plus side, they reattached the top of his head and he came back to life.

Just for the record, both of the first two films featured characters with nose rings.

I don't know if it means anything, but I thought it was worth noting.

Next up was "Anxiety Dream," an experimental film by Jeff Roll, organizer of the Filmmakers Forum.

He told us beforehand that the idea for the film came about because his apartment had been burglarized a decade ago, resulting in years of waking up and walking around thinking he'd heard something.

The dark and moody black and white film was his tribute to silent-era German Expressionist films.

Afterwards, to lighten the mood, he told us that the menacing figure in the film had been played by the guy who was now tending bar in the back of the room.

From there, we went to a documentary called "The Bugler's Statue" by Les Owen.

A musician in an army band, Les is also the video producer for the U.S. Army band in Washington.

His film concerned the creation of a statue of a bugler to go in the visitors' center at Arlington Cemetery to represent the Arlington experience.

The army chose an actual bugler who was sent to a studio in NYC where, over the course of a day, they made casts of his face (complete with pursed lips for bugle-blowing), legs (wearing tights), torso and hands (one of which they forgot to grease first, meaning when they removed the cast, it took the hair off his hand, too).

As much as I know about casting sculpture from art history classes, I'd never seen the process done and it was fascinating to watch.

One of the pieces in the studio was of Jefferson, the same one done for the Virginia State Capital, so there was even a hometown touch in the film.

We took a short break to mingle, visit the menacing bartender and regroup before seeing the final film, "The Coward," by far the longest movie we saw at 27 minutes.

Filmmaker Joe Duca said he'd been inspired to make a modern silent film because of his love for Impressionism and his lack of money for microphones.

It was abundantly clear by this point that in order to make films, one must have a sense of humor.

Set in 1945, the black and white film concerned a group of soldiers acting badly and the consequences of it.

At first, I thought the soldiers all looked impossibly young but it soon occurred to me that that's reality, especially back when men would lie about their age to enlist sooner.

A couple of times during the film, there was a glitch and the images froze for a second or two and you could feel the tension in the room as people held their breath to see what was next.

We kept hoping our hero would man up and take control, but, alas, it wasn't to be.

By the end of the screening, I'd been reminded of one thing.

The beach may feed my soul but I need the city to feed my head.

Taking the pulse of the filmmaking community made for a really good mind meal.

If only it could lull me to sleep like the waves.

Short and Sweet

Taking the temperature yielded concerns about self-image, bullying and atheism.

The reading being taken was that of the local film making scene at the winter edition of the James River Filmmakers Forum.

There was a decent crowd at the Visual Arts Center and the brown bags full of popcorn were lined up on the counter for the taking.

I took.

First up was Paul Hugins' "Applications," with a woman at a makeup table trying to make herself beautiful.

Make-up application wasn't enough, so she resorted to scalpels and giving herself plastic surgery while brassy vintage music played.

It's not pretty to watch someone carve up their own face, meaning the effects were good.

"As Best I Can Remember," was introduced by filmmaker James Mattise as, "There's gonna be a lot different vibe for this one. I was trying to create a film documentary without using Ken Burns."

Using audio created by his grandfather reminiscing about his life, James placed still photographs of his life - shots from his time on a minesweeper in the Navy, as a groom and young father, working at the family dairy- along with family shots to create a visual to accompany the memories.

The grandfather's dialog was informative and sharply observed, as when he said about being in the South Pacific during WWII, "If you were going to survive, you couldn't be foolish."

Nils Westergard and Daniel Ardure's "William" was introduced with the caveat," We made this after my first years as a film student and his second. We haven't watched it in a while so some parts may make me wince. And that's okay."

The story of a shy kid invited to a party in order to later cyber-bully him could be seen as a 21st century tragedy.

All I know is, I hate to see a college kid wake up next to a Supercan.

And speaking of college kids, I recognized the intersection of Main and Harrison and the credits acknowledged Pabst Blue Ribbon.

The only filmmaker in a tux (he said he was planning to fly out and crash the Oscars), James Cappello called the making of "Cain" a "long, arduous and sometimes lazy journey to get a film made. Oh, and I'm an atheist."

He then asked his parents to move to the front row so they could watch his film without heads in front of them and they obliged.

The tinny voice of god narrated the unusual take on the classic bible tale, with quotes from Nietzsche and lines like, "Humans can be such opportunists," and "Boys will be boys."

"The Persistence of Poe" was a more recent edit of the film I'd seen at the Poe Museum in September, introduced by David Fuchs as, "After biblical deepness, here's some light history."

A prior viewing meant I knew to expect excellent old photographs and illustrations along with the story of Poe's deeply unhappy and thwarted life.

Which meant that by the end of the screenings, we'd swung from self-mutilation to poets dying in gutters, with granddads, mean boys and brothers in between.

The only way to deal with that was by calling all the filmmakers up front for the forum part of the evening.

Alright, you guys, time to explain yourselves.

This is always a fun part of the program because you never know what you'll hear out of their mouths.

Like Hugins saying, "After seeing that again, I found that final shot (of her stabbing herself in the nose) too humorous for what I wanted to do with this film."

Humorous, grotesque, call it what you will.

He did say the film was about his (and everyone's) sense of self-doubt when it comes to looks.

Mattise talked about the sense he had when making the film about his grandfather of listening to the audio on headphones and feeling like he was having a conversation with the long-gone relative, meaningful since he'd been in high school when his grandfather had died and not really taking much note.

The screenwriter for the sad tale of "William" said that the intent was, "Going for the the most dramatic story I could to make a film with no money and our friends."

They spoke of Facebook as an analogy for the ancient art of public humiliation, something that hadn't occurred to me.

John the Atheist said he was drawn to using a bible story so he didn't have to create one of his own.

"I wanted a cheap but challenging story, but the original "Cain and Abel" was so dry."

JRFF host Jeff Roll asked him a terrific question about why an atheist would turn to a bible story instead of, say, Nietzsche or Sartre.

"What better way to talk about my opinion of the bible than by splintering it?" he retorted.

When asked, "How did being raised Catholic and turning atheist affect your film?" John answered, "Mom, do I have to answer that?"

Mom said yes.

He talked about Cain and Abel as victims, finishing with, "I don't really know how to justify it cause I'm just a 22-year old."

Then, turning back to his Mom, he inquired, "Did I answer that right?"

So cute.

The Poe filmmaker Christine Stoddard spoke about all the little changes they'd made to the film since September in an attempt to make it more appropriate for long-term viewing at the Poe Museum, the eventual goal.

And, just like that, we closed out the forum, secure in the knowledge that interesting film making is being churned out all around us.

I'd probably cite "As Best I Can Remember" as my favorite tonight, but the fact that my grandfather was a milkman for Richmond Diary no doubt plays a role.

What's key is that young, local filmmakers continue to crank out new work on important subjects like mutilation, bullies, fratricide and dissolution.

Short-form Oscars, here they come.

It's Enlightenment, Man

If you think you hear fingers snapping, it's just beatnik applause for the evening.

Some friends just need to be scooped up and made to go out sometimes and tonight was one of those sometimes.

I took her to Lunch for dinner because she hadn't been and I knew she'd love it.

Make no mistake, it was a little warm in Lunch, but, to be fair, it was a warm day, it's a small place and I'm already sick of over-air conditioned buildings (and it's only June).

Let's just say that I was pleased I didn't need the sweater that I'd brought (just in case).

Seeing as how it was still happy hour, what winos could resist $3.50 glasses when everything on their short list is fair game?

Not us, that's for sure.

I admit, I fell victim to the siren song of Lunch's pulled pork. Yet again.

It was my fifth time there and I never seem to stray far from the pig that dominates the menu.

Why would I?

Bacon and corn griddle cakes loaded with pulled pork and cole slaw delighted as much as they had the first time I'd had the dish.

My friend chose the pecanwood-smoked bacon-wrapped shrimp over stone ground grits once I rhapsodized about the last time I'd had it.

Our server was sweetly attentive, even letting us know ten minutes before happy hour was to end in case we needed more well-priced wine.

We did.

What we didn't have room for was dessert, but that's been the case every time I've been there.

Fat and happy, we left to get some culture and snap ourselves out of the food coma that had descended.

The James River Filmmakers Forum was playing at the Visual Arts Center tonight, which meant five filmmakers were going to show us what they've been up to.

Bruce Spivey's film about the VSU gospel chorale and musician Larry Bland showed the energy and passion of a gospel performance as well as the spiritual awakening such shows represent for some people.

"Asleep in the Chapel" by Mike Buchbauer was a gorgeously-shot film showing a girl showering, dressing and waiting.

When it ended, film teacher Ted Salins commented, "Great film, but it would have been better if you'd picked a more attractive woman."

General laughter ensued since the girl in the film had been lovely.

"Can we see it again?" he said salaciously and hilariously.

Salins was introducing a film made with his first-year film students, "Beatnik Party."

After the third week of classes, he has the students dress and talk like beatniks.

Obviously for college freshmen, this involves a fair amount of research to even discover what a beatnik was.

Lots of sunglasses and nonchalance.

The film began with snapping fingers applauding a performance and went on to use appropriate beatnik slang.

"Blow my top," one said with the indifference of a Beat. "Like wow."

I wasn't in the least surprised that once they got into it, some of the students began to adopt Beat fashion and language outside of class.

Only a square wouldn't get the attraction.

We were told that "Singularium" by Joey Tran and Sean Hambright was shot in a week and took eighteen months to do the special effects.

That tells me that filmmakers have a special kind of patience. But also humor.

The program clarified, "Shawn would like to punch Joey Tran in the kidneys when he isn't looking, then kick him about the had and chest. Joey has it coming."

The story centered on the collapse of the universe and one guy's problem with his girlfriend, who kept clarifying that they weren't getting back together.

Once you break up, there's really no point, even with doom staring you in the face.

The movie's music caught my ear and I found out in the credits that it was done by Prabir, he of Goldrush renown.

Hunter Brumfield's "Biosolid" got played last because, we were told, "It was being redone in the back room at the last minute."

The experimental film left the girls behind us whining,"I don't get it."

But that's the beauty of the James River Filmmakers Forum.

You don't have to "get" all of the films. Or even some of them.

You don't have to like them, either.

It's just a fine opportunity to see what's going on in the local filmmaking community.

From what I saw, praising and dancing. Soaping up of a belly. Repeating girlfriends. A girl eating laundry detergent.

And bongo playing.

Because some things will always be worth snapping your fingers about on a Saturday night.

Dinner at Lunch was one. Local film was another.

And bongo playing, always.

Dig it.

It's What They Wear Underneath

With the James River Filmmakers Forum, you are guaranteed variety.

That means 16 mm and video. It means comic fables and music documentaries. It means shorts and clips from longer works. It means stories about dating and self-mutilation (not related, by the way).

At tonight's screening at the Visual Arts Center, it meant five films (or parts of films) and a good-sized crowd to take them in.

The first two shorts by Robert Massa,"Margaret" and "Cora," were from a series about women and their neuroses.

Because they were done on film, the images were just beautiful. Interestingly, some of the film had been developed in the filmmaker's bathroom.

The main character in "Cora" was a cutter and, in a truly odd twist, so was the actress who played her. It was an unsettling thing to learn after the fact.

"Treezilla" by Joey Tran and Shawn Hambright used paper cutouts and a pipe cleaner tree monster to tell a cautionary tale about over-sized trees gone bad.

A lot of the dialog had a dry wit to it, surpassed only by the sound the raging tree made, which we learned was a combination of screaming and burping.

Some things they can't teach you in film school.

We only saw fifteen minutes of Les Owens' "The Silo Effect: The Treehouse Sessions" because it was a 47-minute film.

It documented local band The Silo Effect's three day recording session at Sound of Music Studios.

Made by the father of one of the band members who was a professional musician for over thirty years before taking up filmmaking, the documentary served as a tease to a bigger story than we got to see.

The youngest of the filmmakers was Thomas Bell, a senior filmmaking student at VCU.

"The Gauntlet" was a humorous take on speed dating (shot at the Empress, of all places) and the issues inherent in any kind of first date when so much can be read into what people say.

And don't say.

From the overly agreeable yes man to the over-confident studly type, the film exposed a variety of male stereotypes and what their behavior means.

There were also a few female cliches like the girl obsessed with her ex and the bitch who wouldn't cut any guys any slack.

Even the credits were funny, with one that said, "Thanks to all the extras who forgot to give us their names."

It was quite a leap from there to Tamara Eastman's historical documentary, "Birthing a Colony," a film about how different the experiences of women giving birth in the Virginia colony were depending on their social class.

Indentured servants and slaves had it worst, not surprisingly, often having their babies taken from them before being thrown in jail or sold.

But as the film showed, any woman was at risk giving birth in a time where childbirth frequently killed mother or infant or both.

I always stick around for the filmmakers' panel after the screenings, because, cutting and burping aside, you never know what fascinating tidbits you'll hear from the filmmakers.

For example, when some women are talking about an attractive guy one of them saw, the first question they ask is, "Is he in a kilt?"

When women like that start a production company, they name it Is He in a Kilt? Productions.

Fact.

So I guess if I ever start a production company, it'll be called Is He a Good Talker and Kisser? Productions.

Prediction.

The Power of Moving Pictures, Pie and Piano

The beauty of the quarterly James River Filmmakers Forum is the variety of unexpected scenarios you'll get to see in the local shorts screened. Tuck your cocktails under your seats and fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen. It's going to be a colorful ride.

Let's see, tonight at Balliceaux that included a tea party on Church Hill with the devil, a Muslim woman working on her Ph.D while suffering through bad matchmaking attempts and a couple of local restaurant owners emerging naked from the river covered in fake blood. It's hard to overstate the pleasures of that kind of entertainment.

Five filmmakers were showing tonight and their work ranged across the spectrum. Daniel Lowe's time lapse films in high def were pure eye candy, the treetops looking almost nervous in their movements and the racing stars resembling a planetarium show.

Or as he put it, "There's not much to think about with my work. It's just meant to be pretty." From behind me, man-about-town Harry Kollatz piped up, "Kind of like me." True that, Harry.

Christine Stoddard's "Tea Party with Death" had a female death figure holding a very proper tea party with miniature cups and saucers, but be on your best behavior; use improper etiquette and you're dead.

The nudes emerging from the river, "Harbinger," were the work of Harrison Moenich, who commented, "It's really hard to find people willing to come out of the water naked in cold weather." He considered the piece to be a horror movie stripped down to its most basic level.

"Menna," by Ashley Zahorian addressed the duality of a typical young American woman with traditional Muslim beliefs. Typical, that is, if you're getting your Ph.D in electrical engineering and your aunts are shoving one loser Muslim man after another at you.

Made from Super 8 home movies, "Expecting to Fly" was Ethan Bullard's experimental sci-fi film about a military unit trying to locate heaven. After the space race, there was apparently a faith race. Who knew?

The footage was from the 60s and shot in Alaska, which subbed for Pluto, and Virginia. The unit had a Deadly Garbage Accelerator that threw garbage onto the dark side of the moon. One dedicated man stayed behind to search for heaven and ended up back on earth. High drama indeed.

The humor of the simply-told story was matched only by the very cool vintage 8 mm footage Bullard used. I love the look of Super 8 films and the soundtrack, which included two songs by Explosions in the Sky, echoed the vastness of the landscape with enormous soundscapes.

During the panel discussion with the filmmakers afterwards, the audience got the chance to find out the how and why of the films. It's such a great way to get inside the creative heads of those compelled to make movies, assuming that that's a place you want to peer in to.

It was raining lightly when I left Balliceaux for Ipanema and the monthly installment of Live at Ipanema, making it a cozy night for live music.

I arrived to find friends at the bar, so I joined them for a piece of blueberry pie a la mode; one of my friends had the apple blueberry, sparking a discussion of how badly RVA needs a dedicated pie shop. Pies are the new cupcakes, mark my words.

Playing tonight was Anousheh Khalili, she of the beautiful voice and talented piano fingers. Her set went from new to old, she forewarned us, with a stopover in the '80s for a Phil Collins cover she particularly loves, "In the Air Tonight." Oh, yes, she did.

She did some songs from her rare tour EP, including the touching "Suitcase." She was then joined onstage by her husband, musician Will Loyal of Homemade Knives, of which she is also a member, on background vocals.

Her final addition was Jonathan Vassar, also of Homemade Knives, on accordion and guitar (once he borrowed a pick, that is, having misplaced his own) and adding to the richness of Anousheh's already-beautiful sound.

She said she's been listening to a lot of R & B like CeLo Green (and anyone he works with) lately, mostly for structure but also for its pop sensibilities. Combine that with her voice and piano playing and it's a killer combination.

As is an evening of outstanding local film followed by soaring local music in a hushed room.

You may now unfasten your seatbelts. And, please, have some pie.

Wait, She Was Gone?

You know how when you're out of town for a few days, you have to make sure you have something good to do on the night you get back into town so you won't feel let down that the trip is over? No, neither did my traveling companion, so it must be just me.

And actually there were three strong possibilities for tonight (a Sunday night at that), but I decided to go with the James River Filmmakers Forum at Balliceaux.

It's a quarterly event and since I'd missed the Reel Pride Film Fest during my absence this weekend (I so wanted to see Howl and Auntie Mame on the big screen), I was definitely in the mood for film.

When I walked into the back room, I was just deciding on a chair when a stranger came up, smiled and asked, "You were at the Ghostprint show the other night, weren't you?"

I was but I didn't recognize him at all. I thought maybe he'd been sitting behind me and that's why he didn't look familiar, but it turned out he was one of the chair-less ones on the floor in front of me. Try to pay attention, Karen.

We got to talking about who we knew in common and he turned out to be a musician, so we did share some friends and had even been to some of the same shows.

He's originally from Chicago and is as big a fan as I am of Ghostprint as a music venue. We were in complete agreement about Benoit Pioulard's performance that night being our favorite. When it got to be time for the program to start, I sat down and he sat beside me so I had company after all.

The films ran the gamut from pithy political satire (a clever PSA on tolerance done by a film teacher who made his first film in- gasp-1959 -at age 8) to two entries from this year's 48-hour Film Fest, but only one of which I'd seen.

And now I know that the other one was fueled by Amp gum, apparently a dangerous substance to those lacking sleep and overly full on pizza ("I thought I was going to throw up").

There was a dream-like montage trailer for a movie that won't be finished anytime soon (the director's first effort took 7 years) and an experimental documentary about the power of icons and how they mutate over time. Jesus action figure, anyone?

We saw a Super 8 piece from a longer documentary about transient, train-riding homeless Christians, apparently a distinct group of rail riders. The director, still an undergraduate at VCU, rode the rails for 2 1/2 years gathering interviews and footage of some of these people and this clip focused on a rider named Ben.

During the directors' panel after the screenings, the train director said that he wanted to thank the kitchen for the background Lou Reed song and the noise of the cash register providing the perfect sounds to underscore his documentary's anti-capitalist message while it was showing.

When the director of the icon film was asked if she seeks out death when traveling, as seemed apparent in her film, she acknowledged that she does ("I need to see Rudolph Valentino's grave.") and that a friend refers to this habit of hers as necro-tourism.

Nerd that I am, I always look forward to the panel afterwards mainly because the other directors ask such great questions of each other. Some of them are purely technical (how did you transfer from Super 8 to digital?), while others, especially with the documentaries, are more questions of style.

My style is to get back from a really interesting trip and jump back in to something entertaining and artsy with both feet. Even better if I meet someone and have some good conversation while I'm at it.

It almost makes it worth coming back. Almost.

Really, It's for Your Own Good

Imagine a film based on the worst memories of restaurant servers. Or one where a guy gives birth to a slimy creature after sex with his computer. Or one called The Falling Offness of the Head Part. Imagine all of these and more and you'd have tonight's James River Filmmakers Forum at Balliceaux, the perfect way to spend a Sunday evening.

Since it was dinnertime, I ordered the smoked bluefish over field greens with grilled peach, sunflower seeds and peach cider vinaigrette; I also got a side of chickpea salad because I'd been wanting to try it (it was very well done). The only problem was that the back bar was closed and the event was being held in the back room. The front bar servers ran themselves ragged trying to service the front and back of the restaurant. I felt bad for them.

Six local films were being shown. I saw four friends acting in three different films. I had previously seen three of the films at Project Resolution. Two of the films were experimental in nature. One film was introduced by the director with, "There might be a part at the beginning where you think there's a plot. But don't get your hopes up; there's not."

The way the forum works is that the six short (10-20 minutes) films are shown, followed by a panel discussion with the six directors. The moderator and the audience ask questions of the filmmakers. It's a terrific way to see what's being made locally and ask all kinds of questions afterwards. Questions ranged from the how did you type to the what were you thinking type. It's very casual and a lot of people are there to glean information.

The last film had a scene shot at Ipanema, so that seemed the logical place to go after the three-hour event ended. It was practically dead when I arrived, much to the consternation of the staff who were a bit bored. When I asked, I was told that the music was the "early dinner mix" which I soon surmised meant that all the songs had to be at least 40 years old; I couldn't resist making a comment to that effect (Herman's Hermits? Really?).

Fortunately, not long after that it began to pick up and we were elevated to the "later dinner mix" which included music from this century. Before long I found myself with plenty of people to talk to: various server friends from other restaurants now closed, a new neighbor, and a solo music lover who had compatible enough taste to make for a hugely satisfying talk that spanned the rest of the night.

Our conversation had begun because he'd spent the first twenty minutes at the bar aimlessly playing around on his device (phone, PDA, what do I know?). When I called him on it (because I couldn't resist...and I have a lot of nerve), he admitted that it was nothing but boredom and a reliance upon the thing to entertain him at such moments. He happily set it aside for a stranger.

Then I realized the parallels to one of the films I'd just seen. In it, a guy had used his computer so much that eventually the computer decided to use him. That's how the whole computer impregnation business began in the first place. I felt it best to warn this guy about the precedent before he ended up delivering a PDA.

Why, I was practically performing a public service. The fact that it just happened to deliver me his rapt attention to talk bands, shows and the American way for a few hours was pure gravy.

I only did it to save him from himself.

Balliceaux Sunday Supper> Film> Music

It's an excellent Sunday night when I can enjoy dinner out, a local film screening, live music AND discover a new band.

As a bonus I got a CD recommendation by a band I'd heard but not been bowled over by (seems I hadn't heard their best work).

And all in a space of only six hours. What football game?

Balliceaux was my starting point because I was supposed to meet a friend there for the James River Filmmakers' Forum.

I went early to eat, but since it was just me, the Sunday Supper offerings were a tad large for my appetite.

I've done their supper before and it was excellent, , but tonight I kept it simple with wine, a cheese plate (goat's milk, a Wisconsin blue, two Virginians, one extremely stinky, and a long-aged Gouda, almost caramel-like) and a mocha torte with almond ice cream.

It may not have been everyone's idea of Sunday supper but it more than fit the bill for me.

The bartender is a friend and since his computer was providing the music, I had the pleasure of extended music talk and discovering a new band on his recommendation; he only needed to play two songs and I was hooked.

Almost too soon, film geeks started arriving and it was time for the movies.

If you enjoy seeing what's going on in local film making, the James River Filmmakers Forum is an ideal way to see what's being made and participate in a forum with the filmmakers afterwards.

Tonight we enjoyed a short, a music video for La Mere Vipere, a non-linear experimental film. a director's montage and a horror sequel.

It's well worth the opportunity to question the directors and share comments about the viewers's interpretations of the films.

My final stop tonight was at RVA's best vegetarian joint for the monthly Live at Ipanema show, this month featuring Zac Hryciak and the Jungle Beat, a band I saw and raved about not long ago, here.

Any bona fide music lover is going to be sucked in for one reason or another: those drums, that violin, that double bass, that beautiful voice, take your pick.

Unfortunately, the crowd was noisy and the band's sound can be delicate, except for the drumming which will grab you from the get-go, so big brother Josh Hryciak (of Mermaid Skeletons) at what point shushed the crowd, a gesture appreciated by many of us.

Since the shows are recorded to be posted online at rvanews, conversation in no way enhances the playback.

The band's members are young, so young that they each had a big X drawn on their hands to indicate underage.

Zac's joke before their last song was, "This will be it, then it's Malbec time."

Actually, after the last song it was probably bedtime since it's a school night, but that only makes their talent all the more impressive given their tender ages.

Yes, I know I could have been at a Superbowl party eating chili and other sports-appropriate foodstuffs and cheering on large men.

But I don't believe for a second that it would have been anywhere near as pleasurable as my evening.

And when's the last time the Superbowl turned me on to new music?

Balliceaux for Film

A Sunday supper should be a group event and mine tonight was just that. My photographer/bartender friend invited me to join him and three filmmakers plus companions for dinner at Balliceaux, followed by the James River Filmmakers Forum. We started early, 5:30, to ensure plenty of time for feasting and talking beforehand.

We began this eating extravaganza with a cheese course (four Virginia cheeses and one Wisconsin) and an enormous platter of mussels in lemongrass/lime/chilies and grape tomato broth. Next up it got ridiculous: forest mushroom asparagus tart over ratatouille for two, roasted whole free-range chicken with corn pudding, roasted leg of lamb with pan jus and roasted potatoes for four and backyard seafood boil with clams, mussels, shrimp and grilled corn for two. If it sounds like an obscene amount of food for eight people, let me assure you that it was. I'm not even going to recite all the sides that we were foolish enough to order. Everything, and I do mean everything, was absolutely delicious.

Stuffed beyond belief and with enough leftovers for another full feast, the group moved to what was the old Bogart's Back Room. It was a very cool place for the screenings, with sort of a retro rec-room feel, but infinitely hipper: some painted brick walls, some wood-paneled walls, seating groups with 50s chairs and lamps on end tables, a bar tucked into the corner. Even the screen reminded me of the ones Dads used to set up to show home movies to bored relatives. The last Forum was held at the Carver Healing Arts Center, which didn't have nearly the ambiance of Balliceaux's back room...or a bar with a mixologist to meet your every libation need.

The Filmmakers Forum showed six features including a director's montage, a documentary, two animated pieces and an experimental video meditation piece. A directors' panel followed to take questions from the audience about their films and there was some lively discussion of technique, the creative process and inspirations.

My friend has been to my apartment before, and said nice things about it, but tonight's comment may be my all-time favorite, "I love the energy in this room, with all the flowers." It's not every day a guy compliments your flowers. And so I finished the easy-does-it slide through my day after a night with too little sleep. Good night now.

A Super (8) Evening

The James River Filmmakers Forum last night was an interesting look at the state of local film making of all types.

A sci-fi horror film shot entirely against a green screen?

Check.

A XXX-rated parody that becomes a surrealist rant?

Yep.

A time lapse film about Richmond's canal boats?

Yes, sir.

A French New Wave inspired memory?

Oh, yes.

A documentary about working 3 nights at Ground Zero after 9/11?

Most definitely.

The films ran the gamut from pure experimental, conceptual-type films to straight-on documentaries, but each offered the audience a peek into the mind of the filmmaker.

I was especially taken by the fact that so many of the works were a combination of new and old formats, many using the very old-school Super 8 while others also incorporated digital media.

Way back in college, I was part of a group who spent every Sunday shooting a movie on Super 8, so I found it pretty cool to learn that filmmakers are still into the format.

Who knew?

The evening ended with a town-hall kind of forum with the filmmakers answering questions and discussing the motivation behind their work.

The evening was presented by the Richmond Moving Image Co-Op, the same fine folks who bring us Flicker and the Italian Film Fest and the James River Film Festival.

With their support, no doubt RVA's indie filmmaking scene will continue to flourish and film lovers like me will only benefit.