Day 7 - Nothing Left But to Shop

I'm going to end the blog here. My last day in Argentina was carefree. I saw another Berlanga film, LONG LIVE THE BRIDE AND GROOM, about a sad man who is getting married but who only wants to flirt with the girls. The film, shot on location in the beautiful beach town of Sitges, has the most beautiful bikini girls strewn around the frames. Mise-en-scene de Bardot, I thought. The hero is a mix of Buster Keaton, Harpo Marx, and the protagonist from Fellini's WHITE SHIEK. It's a great comedy about wandering eyes and a celebration of bikini girls.


I took a long walk on the beach, had a coffee, went shopping, ate empanadas, and prepared to leave the country. Adios Argentina.

Day 6 - Para los fans no es falsa

Racing to the Ambassador theatre to present SLACKER 2011 at noon. This is the additional screening set up to coincide with our front page story in the festival daily. The huge theatre had the best projection that I've seen at the festival - I see it's a 2K projector, and the HDCam we have for our screenings is finally looking as it should. Unfortunately, because the screening wasn't in the program, or on any schedule, it was understandably under-attended. Under-attended to the point of me not doing an introduction or q&a...

I grabbed a copy of the paper and, indeed, we made the cover. You can see the cover here:


Inside the issue is an interview with me. I didn't say anything worth repeating, I think. Plus it's in Spanish and I can't really translate. The one thing of note here is that they put my name as "David C. Metz." So at least there's that. Scott Moyers finally has a partner in mis-naming.

I had to do my last interview, with the reporter from the festival website. It should be online soon. I was, I recall, beginning to get a little tired of answering the same questions over and over. Is this how actual filmmakers feel?

This was also the day of our big story in Tiempo Argentino. We did make the print edition, and it has a funny picture of me in it. The story is reproduced online here: http://tiempo.elargentino.com/notas/para-los-fans-no-es-falsa


The headline, which I used as the title of this entry, reads to me as very strange. Correct me if I'm wrong, but should it not be translated as: "For the fans, it is not false"? That sounds very defensive. Angel Lola translated this story for me, and the translation of my interview seems accurate…

With nothing to do for the afternoon, I went to see another Berlanga film, GRANDEUR NATURE. The film is about a dentist who falls in love with a sex doll, leaving his wife and moving to Paris where he tries to set up a home for the doll, only to become furious when he finds out the maintenance man is sleeping with her too. She is a-doll-terous (sorry, I had to). This film was funny and sexually quite strange. A departure from MISTER MARSHALL for sure, but still done with grace and a fantastic sense of humor.

I also walked by this nice flower stand, and I saw a few boys carrying loads of flowers to it. How sweet.


Then to my last obligation for the festival, introducing SLACKER for a second time. This time, rather than talking about the history of independent cinema in America, I decided to focus on its place in it. I told the audience, "When you watch the film, you need to ask yourself: Why are we looking at this film 20 years later? Why is it still relevant?" I also played with the translator (I couldn't help myself), having her talk about herself a lot. So I guess I can check that off my bucket list.

Pablo and I had a quick dinner (milanesa, a corn-meal breaded pounded veal steak) and watched Joe Dante introduce his 3D film THE HOLE. We shared a cab back to the hotel with Joe and his incredibly charming wife. Dante asked me, "So, how'd you get into producing, seeing as you're like twelve years-old." Good point, Dante.

With nothing left to do at the festival, I went to sleep while watching American television with Spanish subtitles.

Day 5 - The Argentine Strikes Back

I was again, unfortunately, awoken by phone calls regarding the press. Apparently, Tiempo Argentino and the festival website both wanted to send photographers to steal my image. Why a picture of me would help to tell this story I do not know. Nevertheless, I obliged.

But first, it was off to eat breakfast. Feeling a bit more confident every day, I walked to a local cafe (a very old, pub-looking joint) and had my desayuno. It was three croissants, a coffee, and a small orange juice. The price, 18 pesos, is about $4.50. Not bad! And the croissants were great.

Back to the hotel for the photo shoots. Angel Lola was on hand to translate the photographers. One of the shoots (I don't remember which one) was on the beach and the sun was very bright in my eyes. I was making a crinkled up face because of it, as you will see in tomorrow's issue of Tiempo Argentino…


After the shoot, I took a walk on the beach, and snapped some iPhone photos:





With some free time before my 10pm screening, I sat in on two films that I have already seen, but that I feel strong affection for: BIENVENIDO MISTER MARSHALL! and THE FUTURE. Both were fantastic experiences. An old Spanish film from maestro Luis Berlanga, MISTER MARSHALL is a nearly perfect film, without a moment spared or lacking. The political comments, while dated (or at least time-specific), nevertheless reflect universal concerns about identity, resentment, and subservience. The emotional core of the dichotomies of hope/hopelessness, pride/shame, need/want, anticipation/disillusionment, suffering/acceptance, etc. is as relevant now as it was at the dawn of civilization.

THE FUTURE, Miranda July's new movie, struck me in a much more profound way this time around, my second viewing. The story of two 35-year olds struggling to figure out what their relationship means is a wonderful examination of our ongoing romantic problems. I felt so inspired after the film.

And so, in that good spirit, I headed to the theatre to show SLACKER 2011 again. The line was huge, and the turnout was even better than the premiere. When I started my introduction, I took a picture of the audience:


I got a bit carried away with the introduction, talking about how we must constantly destroy the past in order to honor it and move forward. Being here in South America, as one of the more independent filmmakers (especially compared to my American counterparts, Alex Cox & Joe Dante, who make/have made huge Hollywood pictures), I have felt like I should speak like a revolutionary, fighting for the independent spirit. Or maybe I just feel encouraged and that my opinions on cinema should be expressed more powerfully here.

I couldn't stand to watch the film again, so I ducked out and went to a pizza parlor. Unsurprisingly, it was horrible. I miss the Backspace. I also had a local beer, Quilmes Red Lager. It was ok. They gave me this huge bottle, which I did not want. Pablo, who joined me, told me we could give the remainder away to some local kids, which we did. He said it is normal here to give your half-consumed beers to strangers. That's cool by me.


We returned and I watched the last few scenes. Then the Q&A, which was undoubtedly one of the strangest in my life. The first question came from a young man. "I want to say that I love the original SLACKER, and I absolutely hate this film," he said. "There is no reason for this film. It is not original or creative or new. None of the filmmakers did anything different or added anything. You said there are 24 filmmakers and they put themselves into their segments, but I see no artistic voices at all." He went on and on about this for about two minutes. I was completely shocked. To me, the only logical response was to say, "Thank you," and move on to the next question.

After a soft ball from someone else, the next question was, "If you had the guts to make this film, why don't you have the guts to respond to this earlier guy." Yikes. So my play didn't work. I decided to respond, and I explained why I felt that most of the filmmakers did add significant creative visions, and that the presentation of the city was new, that the generation it represents is a changed generation. He didn't agree. Then Pablo came to the rescue, saying, "This is your opinion. What about the rest of you. Do you like the film?" The audience burst into applause. So I guess that is something. Pablo continued, defending the film and saying that if this detractor stayed until the end, it must mean that the film meant something to him. Even if he "hated" it, it still was relevant to him.

Unfortunately, this debate took up the whole time, and we had to go. In the lobby, Pablo and I debated the film with the hater, and Alex Cox was also a willing participant (his attitude was that this was a better film than the original, in part because he doesn't like the original, and felt that the remake should/could have been more free than it was. He loved Geoff Marslett's scene the best, and felt that the 9/11 conspiracy theorist segment was right-wing propaganda).

After this discussion was exhausted, we left the theatre. Alex, Pablo and I went to have a drink, as this was Alex's final night in Argentina. I had a new white wine, San Felipe. It was a blend of Chardonnay, Chenin, and Semillion. Nothing special.


What an odd night it turned out to be. Although the response was overwhelmingly positive, that one very vocal, violently opinionated SLACKER fan certainly impacted my attitude. Showing a film is a very vulnerable task, and listening to his criticisms was like taking a full magazine of bullets. Hopefully, I will persevere.

I will have my picture in the paper tomorrow. At least I have that to look forward to. Until next time.

Day 4 - Hey Girl!

My slumber was disturbed by the buzzing phone. I don't know if it's a national thing or just this hotel, but the phone ringing is totally bizarre. It sounds like a beeper. Apparently, I had to get out of bed to do some interviews. How horrible, to get out of bed at 1pm!

My first interview was for the film festival's daily newspaper. It was only about 10 minutes long, but he asked some good questions. The most challenging one, by far, was "How is this film better than the original." Since that moment, I have come up with so many clever responses. Unfortunately, at the time I said drivel. Hopefully, they won't print it.

Next up, I was able to experience my first live translation. The journalist from Tiempo Argnetino (the Argentine Times) didn't speak English too good, so I was assisted by a young woman named Emily. She spoke like an android who was programmed by an android who never heard a human speak before. But she was good and very fast. This interview was longer, and was for the print edition on Thursday. I'll definitely link it when it is published. Despite the fact that you won't be able to understand it, I'll be sure to grab a copy for you, mom.


Next up, a fancy lunch with Alex and Pablo. Although I wanted to eat sweetbreads, they convinced me to get a steak, a cut of meat they call "Vacio." Pablo explained to me that in Argentina they have different cuts of beef than the rest of the world. They look at the cow in a completely different way, he explained.

Accompanying the meal was a local sauvignon blanc, from the Rutini vineyard. It was aged in French oak, and definitely tasted like it. It was fine but nothing that blew me away.


I walked with angel Lola (who has been very scarce but appearing every once in a while) to the cinema that was premiering SLACKER 2011. On the way, we had an hour to kill, so I drank a fernet. Fernet seems to be a favorite drink here (or, more specifically, in the province of Cordoba), but they always drink it with Coca Cola. It was difficult for me to explain to the bartender that I wanted it neat. Maybe I should have tried it their way...

Of course, I figured no one would come. But by the time 8:00pm rolled around, about 150 foolish people showed up to see this very strange film about a town most of them have barely heard of. With the help of Emily the interpreter, I introduced the film as best I could. I explained the project a bit, but basically just told them "Good luck." ¡Buena suerte!

I was very interested to see their reactions, and to see the subtitles, so I sat through the film. As I watched, I regretted that I didn't sit through more screenings of the film in Austin; it is very rewarding to hear people respond to the film. This screening was a bit tougher than Austin, although it was still received quite well.


I never really thought of it before, but I realized at the screening just how much of the film is based on playing with the English language. The mechanics scene, for instance, done by Sam Douglas, is undoubtedly one of the funniest segments of the film. But the nonstop nonsense spouted by the two green car nuts didn't translate easily into Spanish. I was surprised at how infrequently they laughed, and at the things they laughed at.

By far, the biggest laughs came from the drive/Trophy's scene, directed by Carlyn Hudson. I guess it just goes to show that vomiting in someone's mouth is funny in every language!

The q&a went wonderfully, as the attentive audience asked some of the basic questions (How did this happen? How were the director's chosen?) but also some interesting new ones (How did the original actors/crew chose to be involved in the remake? What would you have done differently if you were in total control? - That question I didn't give a straight answer to, of course). Someone also asked us to do it again in another twenty years, but in 3D. Surprisingly, I gave a thoughtful response to that.

After the film, a handful of people came up and did the usual "We loved the film. I'm a filmmaker and here's my postcard," thing. Someone came right up to me and said how much they enjoyed the 9/11 conspiracy theorist (directed by John Bryant and played to the top by Chris Trew). When I watched that scene with the crowd, it seemed like they totally didn't get it. But apparently I don't know how to read South American audiences too well.

I had to rush out to go to another cinema, to introduce a screening of the original SLACKER. That theatre was PACKED. An audience member explained to me that he was searching for this film for 15 years, but that it wasn't available on video and he couldn't find it online (ever heard of the pirate bay, buddy?). I was happy he was finally getting to see it. With the assistance of Emily the interpreter, I started the speech with this line: "Tonight, you witness a revolution!" I introduced it with an historical tone, explaining the history of American independent cinema and how this film intervened. They seemed very interested, engaged even. Oh, and at this theatre, there is a beautiful mural of film directors, including a frightening depiction of Woody Allen. Love it!


With the interpreter and a different angel (my new nighttime angel, Florencia), I ate at another fancy restaurant. I ordered Pappardelle with sea creatures (Pappardelle con frutos del mar) and it was amazing. I also had some more local wine, this time a Torrontes from the Etchart Privado label. They claim to have been producing wines since 1850. It was an excellent wine, a great example of the Torrontes grape (probably the second most famous varietal from Argentina). It was a great meal!


I have been discovering that in Argentina almost no one serves wine by the glass. The options are either by the bottle or the mini bottle (375ml). This is frustrating for me because I would prefer to try a wider variety, but there are probably good, environmental/economical reasons for this.

Before I went to sleep, I got some great news. They are adding a third screening of the film on Thursday. This is because they decided to put the film/my interview on the cover of the newspaper for Thursday, and they needed an additional screening. So we all win! The covers for the newspapers are like this:

Alex Cox on Tuesday
Joe Dante on Wednesday
SLACKER 2011 on Thursday.

What a world.

Day 3 - Bridalplasty

My day started out the way most days start. I was hungry for breakfast. I threw on yesterday's clothes and walked up and down the Avenue Colón looking for a cafe. Nothing. So I walked one block over, to Avenue Peralta Ramos, and found the Restaurant Via Veneto. As a student of Italian cinema, I knew this name would be a good omen.

I was right. The main building sits like all of the others on the boulevard, set in past the wide walkway. But there is also a second building, a glass room with six tables, with seating for thirty. When I sat and, nervously, ordered my omelet de jamon y queso, I was overwhelmed by the smell of calamari. "I must make an effort to eat sea creatures more often," I noted. The omelet was wonderful.


I went back and cleaned myself, and watched TV while I decided what films to go to. I stumbled upon a strange American reality show, Bridalplasty. From what I could gather, it is a show where engaged women do embarrassing challenges to earn plastic surgery. How marvellous.

Just as being in a relationship is often more conducive to learning about yourself rather than your partner, going to another country is often a way to learn about your homeland. I remember when I was traveling in India, this was especially true, as I felt so connected to the US and its values while I was there. Here, I am learning about American TV - and it is frightening.

I watched two films. First, a Greek film, MINOR FREEDOMS. It was in Greek with Spanish subtitles, so I didn't really understand much. But what I did understand was a gruesome tale of violent incest. I have never seen so many walk-outs. It was amazing. There was also a scene in a slaughterhouse, with a graphic moment of a cow being bled to death, and then a sex scene on the liquid-covered floor. This film is definitely not for humans to watch. It was probably the most upsetting thing I've ever seen. I also saw an American film I like quite a bit, THE COLOR WHEEL. It is fascinating to see how foreigners react to American films that are dialogue heavy. This was like a test-run in some ways for tomorrow's screening of my film.

After the film, I had my first extended conversation in Spanish. An old man came up to me and talked about the film, and went on and on. He knew I didn't quite understand, but I tried my best and it went surprisingly better than I imagined. Still, it was tough. At one point I thought he said my clothes were beautiful. I grabbed my shirt to confirm, and he said, "Oh, yes, you are beautiful too." So we clearly weren't communicating.

I had to rush after THE COLOR WHEEL to do a radio interview on Rock & Pop 98.9. The interviewer asked me questions in Spanish, then in English, I answered in English and then he translated in Spanish. It was great. At one point I mentioned that we will probably put the film online for free. He said that was a forbidden phrase, and asked me to explain why it would be OK to do that. I became very passionate and explained why independent films need to create new models, and how money is the least of our concerns. I felt like a revolutionary.


I had dinner with Alex and the cast/crew of DIABLO. What a raucous time it was. We had beer and fries with cheese on it, and they were so loud. They kept standing up and toasting. It was like nothing I've ever been a part of. "Amigo!" they kept saying, and grabbing my shoulders. It was like a romantic fraternity.


We went back to the cinema and watched a screening of REPO MAN. It was late, and we went to our hotels. Another day in Argentina spent, and my International Premiere is less than 24 hours away.

Day 2 - Don't You Know It's Illegal to Sell Iguanas on the Highway?

This hotel room has marvelous curtains, able to block out any rays of sunlight that the beach town has to offer. So I wake up in near darkness, and then spread these gold and red fabrics to reveal blinding light. Wonderful, and a welcome change from my current, curtain-less apartment that wakes me up every morning without sympathy.


Angel Lola collected me at 9 to walk over to the cinema. On the way, she warned me about all of the dangers of being in this city. I shouldn't dress the way I dress, I should hide my watch, I shouldn't walk around at night. Great. I got a coffee and two croissants (medialunas) and then saw a gruesome comedy from Argentina, DIABLO. It's effective and well directed. It reminds me of DOWN TERRACE, in that it was a crime film confined to a home, with a similar sense of space. Alternatively, though, it featured the violence that that film avoided. It was also quite funny, but judging by the audience reactions I don't think I got all of the jokes.

At that point, the angel told me she felt sick and wanted to leave. I have a feeling I'll never see her again. I walked and met up with Alex and his angel, and we had lunch. Seeing their relationship, it made me jealous - I feel like I've lost my companion, and I felt sorely alone. He ate calamari that was very delicious. I had a steak that was ok, but I made the wrong decision. Menus here are often daunting because I don't know what they are saying.

I also had my first experience with local wine. Taking the advice of my friend Jeremy Parzen, I simply asked for white wine rather than naming a type. His blog, do bianchi, is named after the common saying in Venice of asking for "two white wines;" I think this is a non-American experience, as naming a color seems to encourage the waiter to bring the house/local wine. What I got was Vasco Viejo, a "vino blanc." No other details were on the label. The wine was floral and definitely low-alcohol, an easy drinking, very-very slightly effervescent wine that reminded me somewhat of vinho verde. A nice companion to the calamari that I should have ordered.

I also drank carbonated water (agua con gas), a ubiquitous drink here. It was the same in my experience of Europe. We are so stupid to not be drinking this every day back home. It makes your body feel good.


I retired to my hotel for a much-needed sauna. When I went, there was a matron standing around to help. I fumbled to communicate with her in Spanish. She held up a towel and a robe. I took the towel but said "No, gracias" to the robe. She gave a knowing smile. What does that mean? She seemed amused by my desire to be naked in that room. Is that not customary?

Boy did I sweat.

Quickly, I rushed to see the American skateboarding documentary DRAGONSLAYER. A nice film about some less-than-stellar people. One amazing moment in which a couple describes their meeting:

Woman: I was at a skatepark, and my friend started yelling, "She needs to get laid!" I said, "Yeah, I need to get laid." And he saw us and said, "Well I've got a big dick."
Man: Yeah.
Woman: And basically we've been together ever since.

After was the Alex Cox film EL PATRULLERO, a film he shot in Mexico about a highway patrolman who gets caught up in some difficult stuff. The film is beautiful, and the story is an engaging critique of…a lot of things. There was one amazing line which I used as the title of this entry.

Following the film I sat in a cafe and ate another sandwich de jamon crudo y queso. I think I could eat these forever and never tire of them. I was feeling very lonely, as I am without angel nor friend and it's surprisingly difficult to find people who will/can speak English.


I started writing ideas for a film, which degraded into writing a list of all the things that are wrong with me and then writing paragraphs about each of these flaws. Probably not the healthiest thing to do when you're feeling lonely.

I met up with Pablo and Alex and we talked for a bit. It was getting late, and after a bit we went back to the hotels. I flipped through the channels on this bizarre TV and went to sleep.

Oh, one more note: I read that I should be careful of wild dogs. So far, all the dogs I see here are just lying down on the sidewalks. At night they get up and sniff around, but they don't seem to be any trouble. I remain, nevertheless, leery.

Day 1 - Antipodes

The flight was as flights are. Long, delayed, hurried, bad food, strange pressurized air. I could com pain but there's really no need. Everyone knows what it is like. On the way, at a layover in Dallas, I ate a pastrami sandwich from the weirdos at Au Bon Pain. Oh, why are there no franchise restaurants in airports?

Arriving in Buenos Aires, I had to take a 4.5 hour car ride to the city of Mar del Plata. On the way I saw many wonderful signs. My favorites (not pictured here) were Kentucky Pizza and Universidad de Morón. The reason for these should be obvious.


Halfway there, we stopped for a nosh. I was talking with the driver and he asked me, in Spanish, where I was from. I said "Texas." He said, "Ah, Texas California?" "No," I said, "there are different." "Yo se" he muttered (I know!), "Texas Ranger, Walker." Egads! Is that what I am stepping into?

Mar del Plata. I arrived and was quickly rushed into my hotel. The accommodations are completely amenable, with comfortable bed and marvelous bathroom. Also, there is a bidet, which I don't know how to use but which I have spent many hours enjoying already. There is also a sauna in the hotel, which I will gladly discuss tomorrow.

The view from my room is a charming display of buildings. These tall blocky hotels are typical of this beach town.


Once I was settled, I met with the programmer, the incredibly friendly Pablo. He informed me that I was assigned what the festival calls an "angel." These are translators/handlers for filmmakers. My angel is a tiny young woman named Lola, who goes to bed at 9pm and who is training to be an opera singer. Obviously, this dynamic of temporary assistant is one that will be tested as the week goes on, which I will surely have to write about. No doubt I will do something wrong.

We went and met with the legendary filmmaker Alex Cox, who, as my only fellow American, has become my de facto friend. He's an awesome old Brit, animated yet sensitive and really keen on film history. He's here for a retrospective of his work and to promote the release of a Spanish translation of his book on Spaghetti Westerns.

We had a quick coffee (cafe con leche) and a dessert cookie (Alfajores), at which point I met Lola. "You're much younger than I thought," she said. "It that bad?" I retorted, per usual. "No, it is great. It must be so great to be young and famous." I became a puddle of self-disgust at that point. It is both so easy and so difficult to ride on the fumes of misunderstanding.

Following our snack, we went to the opening events. Pablo escorted Alex and me into a black car. The car drove about 300 yards where there were dozens of paparazzi and a red carpet. Embarrassed, we walked the carpet as the photogs decided it was time to change lenses or replace their film cartridges. We did (sort of) accidentally get in a photo, which was on the cover of the local newspaper the next day. As you can see, Alex and his angel are in the background of this photo. If you look very, very carefully, you can see a black line under her hand. I believe that is my necktie.


After hearing politicians go on and on about the festival (briefly translated by the angel), we saw the opening night film, VIVE ANTIPODES!, by Russian director Viktor Kosakovsky. Basically, the film is brilliant. He explained that the film is like this: If you dig a hole where you are standing, and keep digging and digging, aside from getting tired, you'd end up on the other end of the world. Most people would say China. But actually that isn't correct - in Argentina, if you dig you'd get to China, but in most other places you go to water. It is very rare that you can get to land, and his film studies 4 of these pairs: Russia to Chile, Argentina to Shanghai, Hawaii to Botswana, and New Zealand to Spain.

The resulting film is a non-narrative exploration of space, utilizing some amazing (digital) camera work. Deep focus is, mostly, the name of the game here. He also turns the camera upside down at points, making the world dance on the ceiling. It is surprisingly gorgeous, particularly a scene of driving through the streets of Shanghai. It reminded me of a short film I saw recently, C'était un rendez-vous, by Claude Lelouch. But it is also unique.


After a brief gala party, which was in general a bore, I walked back to the Hotel Hermitage where I plugged in my recently purchased power convertor (thanks angel) and saw that the Internet barely existed, although it could be used to write emails to my loved ones. I turned on the TV and, amid a strew of bizarre programs (including an episode of Taxicab Confessions, which seems to only exist in foreign markets) and dubbed movies (WEDDING CRASHERS), was a classic TV show that reminded me of home. Walker, Texas Ranger was on. Good grief. Until tomorrow...