Opening Night Party Madness!

SIFF’s opening night was a total blast! Where to start…?

What makes opening such fun is that there’s not only a film, there’s a party to follow. Press folks generally don’t get tickets to opening (unless they’re affiliated with a big sponsor that scores the duckets), but now we’re more accommodated; they screen the opening night film at the press launch, and you are invited to the party.

So, having seen the film, and RSVP’d for the party, I headed to the downtown Seattle Art Museum on public transportation. For the occasion, I chose gold trousers offset by black boots, a black top, long dark navy jacket, black leather hat and pearl earrings. This generated much comment from passersby (female and male — hitting on both pistons!), but nothing from any partygoers, alas. We’d been told to arrive “around 9:30,” so I did, finding I could probably have arrived even earlier…there were a number of folks milling around. I chose to stay outside initially, where tents, tables, and drink stations had been set up, and eventually found my way to the Lucky Strike tent (packs ‘o Luckys for two bucks, apparently) where a delightful bartender made me a nice stiff drinkie (vodka and cran). I then chatted with old acquaintance Marty Griswold; we were both Rocket compatriots back in the day, and he’s now with the Stranger. A gent at a nearby table eavesdropped on our media connections, and who did he turn out to be but Todd Pottinger, one of the directors of Big City Dick, a doc about local trumpet-and-piano man Richard Peterson.

This is what I love about SIFF, the random encounters that result in great connections. I’d wanted to interview someone from the film, and now here was one of ‘em! I’ll be doing a proper chat with Todd later, but we did some prelim discussion about his venture. He’d first seen Peterson playing his trumpet downtown when he (Pottinger, that is) was a mere 14 years old. The later sight of Peterson being pelted with pennies by attendees of a Ted Nugent concert provided further inspiration to learn more about this man, and over the years Pottinger’s shot what sounds like scads of film. The film only gets one SIFF screening (on Memorial Day at the Egyptian), and Pottinger urged me to “get a posse” together to attend. If you miss it, there will probably be a later NW Film Forum screening.

Also chatted with Pottinger’s charming wife, Tracy. She’s from Northern England, and I’ve spent some time in the UK, so we talked about that, what to wear to festival parties (“You can’t go wrong with black,” I said), and Peterson’s request that she take him with her when she next visits the UK! Well, that won’t happen this year.

I spent so much time yakking, I hadn’t investigated the food situation much. Some waitstaff came around with edibles, and inside the museum there were tables set up with more. But once the crowds arrived from seeing the film, it was impossible to move about inside. You know the long “hallway of stairs” on the museum’s south side that everyone moaned was such a waste of space when SAM opened? Stuffed to the gills. As folks surged up the stairs, I felt like I was on board an evacuating Titanic. So I spent most of my time outside.

Chatted with Festival Director Helen Loveridge. I asked how the screening had gone and she said, “Everybody hated it. They were leaving in droves.” “Really?” I said, before catching on she was joking. Got me! Spoke with Carl Spence, Director of Programming; publicist Amy Lillard introduced me to her actual fiancé, proving she does have an actual life outside SIFF; watched publicist Mike Weber valiantly watching over the entering hordes, making sure folks either had their ticket or were on the list. Spoke with Lacey Swain, manager of the Egypto, who said folks would be “wanded” before some films, to ensure they weren’t sneaking in video cameras and such to record the proceedings. This is sure to take up some extra time, so be prepared; also note the forbidden items extend to cell phones that take pictures!

Saw Justine Bateman (hope I got that last name right) from Seattle’s Gay Film Festival; she’s stepping down from her post there at the end of the month. Happily ran into novelist Matthew Stadler who used to live in Seattle but now splits his time between Portland and Astoria, Oregon; great to see him, I miss having him around (he had a cat named “Little Miss Perfect”). Talked to Emily White (ex-Stranger) who was with a friend who turned out to be Ivy Meeropol, director of Heir to an Execution, about Julius and Ethel Rosenberg. “How did you get interested in the subject?” I asked. “They were my grandparents,” she replied; that catches one’s attention! Her film screens 5/21 and 5/22 at Broadway Performance Hall, and hopefully I’ll have some more chat with her later. I did ask what she thought of Meryl Streep’s performance as Ethel in Angels In America. She liked it, though thought the accent was a bit off, at times. I asked if she was put up at the Hotel W. “Yes!” she said. She was impressed with the Krispy Kremes in the Hospitality Suite.

Found my way into what was apparently the VIP Room, though by the time I got in no VIPs were in evidence. I compensated by having the stiffest drink of the night, essentially a glass of vodka with a splash of cran, which must’ve delivered a knock-out punch to any bacteria in my system. Saw crazy photographer Steve, in a blue haired wig, had my pic taken with him. Chatted with other journos, Nick from the Seven Gables/Landmark organization, designer Alfred Harris, Craig Cappuccino (ace espresso man at the Egypto), and “Tamara The Trapeze Lady” from the Pink Door. Most unexpected was a conversation with artist Jason Arne Lien, who was sporting a red shirt with Elvis on the back. I admired it, and he said it had been given to him by Demi Moore, whom he’d met when he was dating her then-nanny. But when Demi got a new nanny, “I dropped off the Christmas card list,” he joked. Celebs are so fickle in their attentions…

Well, I saw no celebs, though apparently Karla had an encounter with Tom Skerritt I hope she’ll relate to y’all. I eventually caught up with her and the other Tableteers (Karla wearing a lovely white sweater). Waitstaff were beginning to clear the drink stations and subtly urging us to think about moving on, as it was approaching 1 am. The Tablet crew moved on somewhere, but I wasn’t privy to that; having a work engagement the next morn I staggered into a cab and went home, having spent a most enjoyable evening. Hope you enjoyed reading about it. Did it make you feel like you were there?