“Harry Potter review/Moi Cesar party”

6/2…What does the new Harry Potter film have to do with SIFF, you may very well ask? Absolutely nothing! But the evening started out with it, so I’m jolly well going to write it up anyway.

So yes, I got an invite to an advance screening of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, at the IMAX Theater, and who could resist? Frankly, I’ve been a little lukewarm about the Harry Potter movies…I think it was the NY Times that recently described them as more like “staged readings with special effects,” and that about sums it up for me. But there was more excitement about this third flick, not least of which because it’s directed by Alfonso Cuaron, who helmed crazysexycool film Y Tu Mama Tambien, which prompted much joking about what he could do with the Potter characters…Would we see Professor Snape hitting the S&M dungeon circuit in Hogsmeade? Would Hermione start experimenting with bisexuality?

Well, no. But this is the best Harry Potter film to date, probably because the third book was the most interesting in the series at that time (now books four and five have taken the Potter game to a whole new level). It’s the fastest-paced of the films, with great swathes being hacked out of the plot, and a few unexpected changes to the storyline (which really didn’t add anything). The film was still a bit frustrating, in that movies really can’t capture the nuances and details of a book, the result here being a film packed to the rafters with great actors who don’t get enough to do because there’s so much to try and cram in (e.g. Maggie Smith’s blink and you’ll miss her Professor MacGonagall). Still, pretty good fantasy fun, Alan Rickman’s deliciously wicked Snape steals the film for me, and the hippogriff (a combo horse/bird creature) was just nifty.

It was a lovely night, so after the screening I strolled over to Café Campagne in the Pike Place Marquette, the “cheaper” counterpart to the pricier just plain old Campagne upstairs, for a party celebrating “Moi, Cesar.” Coming down the alley, I saw some revelers sitting outside having a sophisticated smoke and saw they were none other than the Divine Ms. L (Loveridge), the ever-cheerful Andy Spletzer, and, quelle surprise, SIFF co-founder Darryl Macdonald, looking very dapper. As he should, seeing as the French government had awarded him a medal “in recognition of his contribution to the promotion of French films in North America” that same night. What I didn’t realize at the time was that he was also knighted! So that’s the first time I’ve ever hugged a Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres, or “Knight of the Order of Arts and Letters.” Wow.

I came inside and made my way to the bar, where staff was already cleaning up a massive spill of something; had things got so hectic so soon? There were snackies, and I had a small piece of bread piled high with what seemed like cole slaw. Trying to eat it, I realized I’d picked probably the messiest finger food on offer, and so abandoned food pretty quickly and stuck to champagne. It was good to see Darryl, I heard he was coming up. He’s able to relax at the fest more, as he’s not the one who has to oversee every little detail now. And he’s been enjoying Palm Springs, not sure he’d like the smaller town setting, but he does. And the people are friendly And there aren’t too many annoying industry types. His place has a pool and a hot tub, so he drinks his morning coffee in the hot tub, and on returning from work can take a dip in the pool or go for another round in the hot tub. Gee Darryl, life’s tough.

This was one of SIFF’s lower-key gatherings. Met some other SIFFers, bumming cigarettes from Guest Relations Manager Heidi Kauffman (fun job, I should think) and Development Coordinator Steve Bartlett. The waitstaff seemed to sense our liquid needs and constantly made the rounds with champagne, so we didn’t need to get up. Nice. I then ended up sitting next to a French director whom I’m sorry to say I didn’t get the name of, nor had I even seen his film, sterling work on my part. He asked if I spoke French, and I said very little, very badly. I guess it’d be more correct to say I speak the occasional phrase, like “c’est la vie,” “zut alors!” “quelle domage,” and, my personal favorite, “folie a deux,” rather than the actual language. But now my mind went totally blank, though I did at last recall how to say “Very happy to make your acquaintance,” which pleased him. I asked if he’d been to Seattle before, and he hadn’t even been to the US before. He was planning to visit the Experience Music Project, and as I’ve done some work for them we were able to talk about that, and about our famed “grunge” scene and especially Nirvana, a band I can discuss at length to everybody’s distraction.

It was such a lovely, warm night, it was great to sit outside. Eventually, most folks drifted off until there was just a small knot of us, and the waitstaff began clearing up, though bringing a few bottles of wine and champagne for our table. It was getting to be midnight, so I thought it was a good time to make my exit.