Film as dream, film as music. No art passes our conscience in the way film does, and goes directly to our feelings, deep down into the dark rooms of our souls. —Ingmar Bergman
The 43rd Portland International Film Festival (PIFF43) kicks off this week with Thursday's opening night films and festivities. PIFF has been a high point of my year since I discovered it in 1999, my first winter in Portland. The NW Film Center and PIFF are among our city's jewels. Last year's festival was one of the best. Yet…
My anticipation Is tempered by dramatic changes in the festival format and program. PIFF43 runs a full five days fewer than past festivals. Accompanying that cutback is substantial reduction in the number of films screened. Advance preview screenings open to the press and Silver Screen Club members at Director level and above have been slashed from thirty films over three weeks to fourteen films beginning today and running through Thursday.
The films will be supplemented this year by a slate of fifteen workshops and panels geared to student and independent filmmakers and an array of events that appear to be aimed at younger, hipper, and more woke sensibilities than mine. The festival's focus seems to be drifting away from the films themselves.
I know, I sound like the old fogy I am. The film center is moving in a direction its leadership feels is in keeping with the cultural moment. This is entirely legitimate.That may well take it away from my interests. It will be my loss if this comes to pass.
Maybe I will be pleasantly surprised. Maybe the films will be of surpassing quality sufficient to outweigh their reduced number. My intention is to see how it all plays out and hope for the best. At year's end I will assess where the film center and I stand and whether to invest in a renewal of the Silver Screen Club membership.
As in years past I will share my impressions of the festival and capsule reviews of films I catch. For the next couple of weeks readers will have what may be a welcome letup from rants about politics and current affairs. I know I could do with a break.
But first, a word about South Carolina. Joe Biden's margin of victory yesterday makes Super Tuesday all that much more interesting. For a couple of days it punctures the narrative of inevitability the Sanders camp wants to spin. Tom Steyer deserves credit for acknowledging the writing on the barricades and stepping aside. It is time for Amy Klobuchar, my preferred candidate, and probably Elizabeth Warren and Pete Buttigieg to do likewise. Right now I am leaning toward Biden because he is best positioned to put together a coalition that can take down Trump in November. While he will not be an inspirational president, he can be counted on to put together a competent cabinet, nominate competent people to be ambassadors and to fill other positions, and begin to remedy the damage Trump has done, a formidable undertaking quite apart from the introduction of new programs and dealing with other challenges that are bound to arise.
Friday's afternoon wandering took me to Milwaukie, where I ventured into the newly renovated Ledding Library, a work in progress when last I was out that way. The old building was quite nice. The new one is super nice. Kudos to those responsible.
After the library I took the pedestrian/bike path that runs along SE 17th Avenue to Sellwood, where I happened on the Living Room Coffeehouse, which turned out to be an excellent spot for an espresso and journal session. Along with a journal entry I made headway on the opening lines for a lengthy poem tentatively titled "An Obscure Man." If I manage to pull it together, by no means certain, the poem figures to be even less marketable than my other work. As I have noted before, there is not an entrepreneurial bone in my body.
Keep the faith.
yr obdt svt