Film Fest Fun

It’s been two-plus whirlwind days at the Santa Fe Independent Film Festival (not to be confused with the Santa Fe Film Festival, held, unfortunately, on the same weekend). The casual tourists may not realize, as they stroll through the shops and galleries, how much of a film town this is. There are the stars who live in or around the city at least part of the year (Gene Hackman! Val Kilmer! Ali Macgraw! Julia Roberts! Others I’m sure I’m missing! Not that I have seen any of these people, mind you…) and the many films, mostly Westerns, that have been shot in the region, one of the most recent being Cowboys and Aliens. All those film connections have sort of made Santa Fe, or northern New Mexico, Hollywood Southwest; Albuquerque has sound stages, there’s a ranch not far from here that has been used often as a film set, and the union for technical hands has an active presence here.

We started our SFIFF activity by attending the opening-night screening of Billy Wilder’s Ace in the Hole. Shot in Gallup, NM, some 60 years ago, the film is, relatively speaking, a minor Wilder pic, which means it’s still better than 90 percent of most Hollywood product, then or now. Friday night we watched This Film Is Not Yet Rated, a documentary that explores the politics of the film rating system. Filmmaker Kirby Dick was in attendance, and his Sick was also part of the festival.

For Saturday and Sunday, the Santa Fe Sweetie (SFS) and I spent most of the time watching films and volunteering. Doing the latter gave us free access to the former, and for the most part we saw some excellent films, all documentaries. (The only real stinker was a collection of American shorts, only one of which I really enjoyed. But the actor in and director and writer of another flick, who were in attendance, got a real kick out of their own film; glad someone did…) There was Cancerpants, about a young woman’s battle with breast cancer; several animal-related shorts; and If a Tree Falls, a film about the Earth Liberation Front in general and one former member in particular. All three had moments that could lead to tears, if one were so inclined.

The SFIFF was, not surprisingly given the “Independent” in the title, filled with lower-budget films, many of them local. Some were shot on video, and one short was shot on 16mm (I didn’t even know they still made that film stock). The founders started the event a few years ago as an alternative to the more upscale SFFF, which, from what I read, became enamored with big-name films and panels, with high ticket prices to match. Our (“our”…) festival may may not have been as glitzy, but it had heart.

And despite its low budget, the organizers treated its volunteers well, with plenty of free food and invites to the various parties, and of course free admission to just about any film we wanted. The party last night was especially fun, and it was “presented” by local actor Wes Studi and his wife Maura—also an actor and a self-described “Hollywood brat”; her father was award-winning actor Jack Albertson. Yes, it seems easy to drop names here, but as I learned from this weekend, even the people who are not “stars” have stories to tell.

So many people seem to have settled here after living fascinating lives in the music or film worlds, or have written books, or do some sort of creative art. Santa Fe is a small place, in population, but huge in its creative vibe. And huge in the sense of people who seem so genuine and warm. Almost everyone I’ve met, when I say I just moved here, gives me a big smile and says “Welcome.” Does anyone ever welcome newcomers to Connecticut? Of course, how many people move to CT of their own free will? It’s a place that you’re sent to, like Siberia, for work or school or penance of another kind. But Santa Fe? People want to be here. Film stars. Musicians. Seekers of spirituality. And people willing to give up their weekend to volunteer at a small film festival, because it’s a fun thing to do. And it was, it was.