The Truth About… Conspiracy Con 2002

Santa Clara, CA: 25th-26th May

The landscape of conspiracy research changed irrevocably on 9/11, and it was inevitable that the events thereof would dominate proceedings. All but absent were last year’s alien-angled themes, though the absence of David Icke perhaps had something to do with that, replaced a by more prosaic explanations. Against the backdrop of the FBI being called to account for the failure to stop Al-Qaeda, there was an almost grim determination to bring things out into the open.

The venue had also changed from last year, moving across Highway 101 to the Santa Clara Marriott. We didn’t have to share facilities with the Charismatic Catholics this time; however, Friday night in the hotel bar saw rather a lot of scary-looking female athletes (including a hockey team wearing shirts saying ‘Chicks With Sticks’), some of whom were engaging in what would be inappropriate touching in an Arizona bar, but I guess not down the road from San Francisco. The Marriott was also located just down the road from the Great America Theme Park; between lectures, you could step outside and hear, every 90 seconds or so, the screams of the terrified being dropped into oblivion. What more fitting setting for a convention about conspiracies in the post 9/11 world?

Eric Jon Phelps. Having missed the first lecture last year, we made a special effort to be on time, but really shouldn’t have bothered. Phelps’ lecture appeared to consist largely of overhead slides taken from his book, throwing the audience in at the deep end by assuming we all knew who the Knights of Malta were, and why belonging to them makes you a bad person. The topic – the Jesuits and their influence on world affairs – was potentially an interesting one, but all life was drained by the presentation. I can stand almost any level of ineptness (I’ve walked out of less than a handful of movies in my life), but thirty minutes was enough for both Chris and I. Rating: E

Dr. Nick Begich. Thank the lord for Dr. Nick, whose lecture was informative, entertaining and educational. He spoke a lot of common sense, not least his exhortation to the audience to trust no-one and check up on all alleged facts for themselves. In the conspiracy field, as elsewhere, independent thought and questioning is often discouraged in favour of acceptance of what “they” tell you, so Begich’s encouragement to look into things for yourself was a refreshing breath of fresh air.

Based out of Alaska, his main topic was HAARP, a technique of pumping energy into the upper atmosphere that can be used for long-range communication, but also potentially for weather control and possibly even behaviour modification. But despite the potential downside, his was an upbeat talk, which left us feeling empowered and hopeful for the future. It didn’t seem to be just us who appreciated him either, going by the rapid way in which his new book sold out at his table after the lecture. A

Anthony J. Hilder. If you could come up with a stereotype of a conspiracy researcher, Hilder would probably be it. Clad in a turtle-neck sweater and possessing what was either a bad toupee or a very bad hair-style, and doing a fair imitation of Morton Downey Jr., he stalked among the audience. Long on rhetoric, but short on actual facts, he harangued us with a seemingly endless array of buzzwords: Illuminazi, left-islation, New World Odour, evil-archy, bank-sters, cash-ist cartel, etc.

He came across as not much more than a talk radio host – and there’s a good reason for this, as that’s just what he used to be. He came across more as someone playing a character, and for all his shouting (not to mention his favourite phrase, “If you liked what Hitler did, you’re going to love what Bush is doing!”), it was the sort of thing that I found easy to ignore. Hilder got my vote as Speaker Most Likely to be a Government Agent Provocateur. D.

Ted Gunderson. Retired FBI agent Gunderson spoke about satanic child abuse cults, and how there is a cover-up among the police and judiciary to prevent their existence being revealed. He paid particular attention to the McMartin case, where a preschool was allegedly the center of such a group; the children reported tunnels underneath the school, but none were found until after the case has been dismissed. Gunderson’s investigations provided significant evidence that there had been such tunnels, and that they had been filled in at some point.

This, and evidence at another site he’d discovered, were fairly compelling, but he largely failed to prove much beyond the local level. If I were involved in abusing children, I’d certainly do everything I could to keep it quiet, and there’s no real need to invoke a global conspiracy to explain this. I still think that, when Satanism is involved, it’s largely as a convenient control mechanism for the young victims, rather than out of genuine religious motives. B-

This ended Saturday’s program for us – we didn’t bother with the banquet, having found it not worth the money last year, so we headed out to eat. The local curry house had been closed – mere coincidence, or something more sinister? – so we had dinner in a nearby Irish-themed restaurant, where we were sat next to a gay softball team. Are there no heterosexual athletes in northern California?

Sunday saw Chris and I, semi-independently, both deciding to wear our Funker Vogt shirts. Never have we been stopped so often and asked what our clothing meant, but then I tend not to wear clothes in a foreign language, where about the only intelligible word is “Terroristen”. Perfect attire for a conspiracy convention.

Norio Hayakawa. The day started with a presentation on Area 51, but even this disparaged the concept of alien activity there. Hayakawa reckoned that the UFOs, and related stories thereof, e.g. Bob Lazar’s testimony and the opinions of former CIA pilot John Lear, are merely a convenient smoke-screen for the government to hide more terrestrial, but perhaps no less bizarre, research and development. These include such exotica as laser-projected images in the sky, which may have been used as psychological weapons in the Gulf War.

Though his presentation wasn’t perhaps the most polished of the weekend, he showed a great deal of interesting information and photographs of the (non-existent, according to the goverment) bases around Groom Lake. The reports that activity at the base has ended are clearly incorrect, though it would make sense if the blackest of the black projects are now being tested somewhere else, away from prying eyes. But the mere fact that the government can claim and seal off such a huge area of land without having to give good reason to the public, is conspiracy enough for anyone. B

Eustace Mullins. I have serious qualms about this speaker, who is one of the most notorious alleged anti-semites and Holocaust deniers around, who has articles on ultra right-wing sites such as Stormfront. It is probably this, rather than any inherent truth in what he says, which has led to problems with him visiting Canada and Britain – the mention in Mullins’ lecture of his attending the funeral of American Nazi Party founder, George Rockwell, was illuminating in itself.

But Conspiracy Con is, as it should be, a forum for all views, and he largely stayed clear of contentious territory. The result was rather bland, consisting of the usual anti-federal government arguments, and fulmination against the new security measures at airports, which he seemed to think was personally directed at him. It was also hard to agree with his stoic defence of Senator McCarthy, who probably did more to set back the cause of liberty than any single person since World War II. Certainly not dull, but there was a lot here with which I simply couldn’t find common ground. C-

Walter Bowart…will outline the timeline of the current human condition. Strap yourself in for a cerebral journey into the most mind-blowing subjects of our time, including: schizophrenia as our next evolutionary stage; the end of civilization as we know it; telepathy and the end of all secrets; MK-Ultra and the GOD pill; the Roswell crash and JFK’s role in MJ-12. The unconscious societal behaviours of the last century, not declassified documents and eye-witness accounts, are proof of the “celestrial” influences on our world, as well as the terminal nature of our civilization. After the collapse, there will be two conspiracies – one against the future and the other towards the future, while the majority sleeps.

Okay, the above paragraph is taken verbatim from the convention program…because while it sounds vaguely familiar, neither I nor Chris can remember anything he said! This might be because our minds have been wiped of the dangerous information he provided, by “them”…or it might just be that his talk was dull and rambling – you decide. There must have been something of merit, as I was interested in a copy of his book, Operation Mind Control, but he never came back to his table in the dealer’s room. Nor does he respond to email, and having seen reports that Mr. Bowart has a nasty habit of taking money and not delivering the goods, I won’t be sending him a check. D

Col. Bo Gritz. The final speaker was certainly the most remarkable character of ConCon02: one of America’s most-decorated soldiers, a former CIA trainer who partly inspired the Rambo movies by his missions to recover missing POWs from Vietnam. Dressed in uniform with his medals almost covering his chest, this lecture was packed full of amazing anecdotes, delivered in a folksy but down-home manner. Particularly interesting was his information on the share dealings which preceded 9/11, with options in the airlines involved and companies located in the WTC being heavily traded. Someone clearly knew in advance, and wanted to profit…hearing that the now executive director of the CIA used to run one of the companies involved sent a shiver down my spine.

He also mentioned the likelihood of there being clandestine Soviet arms dumps left here from the Cold War (we have them in Russia, apparently, so it makes sense), including “suitcase nukes”, of reduced size (equivalent to around 10 kilotons of TNT), but if set off at ground level, would still be filthily radioactive. All Bin Laden would have to do is bribe the Soviets who know their locations, and he wouldn’t have to bother smuggling fissile material in. A worrying scenario, but Gritz reckons that the Koran forbids such an act, unless it was in retaliation for the West going back into Iraq or something of that magnitude. Let’s hope this doesn’t happen.

I could perhaps have done with less fundamentalist Christianity – I wanted to ask Gritz how he reconciled his career as a trainer of assassins with ‘Thou shalt not kill’ – but in between praising the lord, he came across as the sort of man you could completely trust. The kind we could use more of in government (a little like Jesse Ventura, perhaps), Gritz was an excellent and surprisingly optimistic note on which to end things. A-

Well, almost end things. The final event was a Q&A panel, but this was less interesting than last year’s, and was largely a rehash of the themes for the weekend, with not much new information coming out. We were happy though, having discovered – albeit almost too late – that the hotel bar was willing to let us bring our drinks through. The resulting anaesthesia probably helps explain why I didn’t feel in need of a lie-down in a darkened room, quite as much as the first time round, and finished the convention feeling mellowly content. Hey, the world might be going to hell in a hand-basket, but as long as there is Sam Adams Summer Ale to be had, who really cares?

As mentioned, found this convention less stressful than last year; having our rooms in the venue probably helped, though the seats in the lecture hall were notably less comfy – when you’re in them for eight hours a day, these things matter. Two words as a suggestion for next year: stadium seating. If they have cup-holders and somewhere for your popcorn too, so much the better.

It was also curious how many of the speakers seemed tightly linked to each other: Hilder, Gunderson and Hayakawa, for certain, perhaps others, all appearing in each other’s videos and writing forewords to each other’s books. It’s almost as if there is a conspiracy conspiracy, and if you’re not part of the “in crowd”, you don’t get to be heard. Now, there’s a topic for Conspiracy Con 2003! Where do I sign up?

More information

2nd Phoenix Film Festival: AMC Arizona Center, April 5th-7th, 2002

It’s spring, and a young man’s thoughts inevitably turn to…spending all day in the dark. Yep, it’s film fest time again, with Arizona’s own Phoenix Film Festival, back for its second year. For some reason, they invited us back too. Guess we’re not trying hard enough. 🙂

Things were slightly different from last year; fewer films, I think, but more chances to see them, which works fine for us harried acolytes who are making (inevitably futile) attempts to see everything. The staggered start times were a bit of a mixed blessing – while it does reduce the crush to get in when you don’t have three films beginning simultaneously, it occasionally led to perilous rushing between screens. Still, some things were the same as last year. The venue for one, though the Arizona Center seemed a good deal more…well, vacant than last year, exemplified by a food court where two-thirds of the units are unoccupied.

Not much better luck in the cinema, where the concession stands seemed wildly unprepared for people actually wanting snacks at 11am in the morning. We felt particularly bad about forcing the director of Jane White is Sick and Twisted to chase after us, waving a press-pack, as we sprinted off in search of something edible. Hopefully, he’ll understand that man cannot live by popcorn alone.

Sarah Graham Hayes from Dead Dogs Lie
Pic by Dennis Yeandle

Was delighted to see the punctuality of the festival remained as eccentric as ever – this is not an event for the fastidious clock-watcher, shall we say. Some of this was self-inflicted by the organisers: if you schedule a 100 minute film for noon, it’s a bit optimistic to have the next begin at 1:30pm! As a result, events started anywhere up to 45 minutes late, but the great thing is…no-one minded – all the more time to chat. And, as last year, without exception, people were more than happy to hang round and talk, a delightful change from bigger events where guests get bussed in, and escorted out. Mind you, could have done without the house lights coming up four separate times in the middle of one poor movie – it’s not like we were having sex or anything.

We crammed in seven films in a day and a half. It would have been eight, but an accident on Highway 51 delayed our arrival – just one of several oddities that weekend, including my receipt of a summons for jury service (dammit, you have to be a U.S. citizen, so no Twelve Angry Men role for me). Also caught the high-school short film program, which was a wide mix between the unexpected – Taken Away featured martial arts choreography worthy of a Hong Kong movie – and the…well, let’s just say a couple of the makers probably took time out from writing bad poetry in their bedrooms.

The regular features were, almost without exception, impressive. It’s immensely sad to realise the hard part is no longer making a movie, it’s giving anyone else the chance to see it. I have no doubt at all that if films like Drop Dead Roses or Dead Dogs Lie got to open in 3,000 screens across the continent, they would royally kick the arse of Van Wilder. That they get no such opportunity is unutterably sad – check out last year’s report, and see how few of 2001’s movies got any distribution. The organisers did get one foreign language film into this year’s festival, something I’d like to see more of – if chances to see low-budget English-language movies are thin on the ground, for overseas ones they’re effectively zero.

Maybe next year they’ll even expand it out beyond a weekend – with 300 submissions this year, there’s clearly a demand for a festival like this, and personally, I’m perhaps better equipped for stamina than a sprint (I always seem to end up wanting to lie down in a well-lit room for a while, having had quite enough of darkened ones). This is probably just me being greedy though; why have a weekend of fun when you can get a whole week?

[Thanks once again to Golan and everyone else at the PFF for their help and assistance, the film-makers for unfailing friendliness, even in the face of…er, us, and co-editor Chris Fata for dealing with ACT tests, suffering through another bout of shaky-cam nausea, and being everything one could want. And she’s all mine, hahaha!]

Phoenix 2003? Hell, yeah! Can’t wait!
Visit the Phoenix Film Festival website.

Festival Reviews

TC Awards

  • Best Film: Dead Dogs Lie and Jane White is Sick and Twisted – tie
  • Best Actor: Eddie McGee, Drop Dead Roses
  • Best Actress: Kris Carr, Five Years
  • Best Ensemble: Tommy Flanagan, Gary Stretch, Sarah Graham Hayes, Dead Dogs Lie
  • Best Director: David Michael Latt, Jane White is Sick and Twisted
  • Best Supporting Actor: Chris Hardwick, Jane White is Sick and Twisted
  • Best Supporting Actress: Barbi Castelvi, Drop Dead Roses
  • Best Script: David Warfield, Ocean Park

A Semi-Demi-Quasi-Pseudo Autobiography

John Leguizamo
Celebrity Theatre, Phoenix, Arizona
10th July, 2001

John Leguizamo’s first one man show, entitled SPIC-O-RAMA, A Dysfunctional Comedy, showed his diversity and talent. He followed that with another one man show, Mambo Mouth, which introduced a slew of new characters to terrorize, disgust, and thrill us, and it seemed as if he found his niche. But artists are never happy are they?

Movies were the next logical step – and a mistake in my opinion. His film career has included roles in Casualties of War and Carlito’s Way (both directed by Brian de Palma), Revenge, Hangin’ with the Homeboys, Regarding Henry (Mike Nichols), Whispers in the Dark, Super Mario Brothers, Pyromaniacs: A Love Story, Executive Decision, Spawn and The Fan, staring Robert DeNiro and Ellen Barkin. Not exactly thrilling.

It was his breakout role as Chi Chi Rodriguez in the drag comedy To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar, that earned him a Golden Globe Nomination for best supporting actor. Although I enjoyed To Wong Foo…. that was only because I was reminded of his character “Manny the Fanny” from the Mambo Mouth tour. Movies are not his forte. I think he’s more at home on stage. . and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

It’s obvious from the onset that this is going to be an ethnic showcase. John Leguizamo is a melting pot of Hispanic culture and it shows. His mastery of the diversity of accents, body language and colloquial phrasing is unbelievable. He comes on stage with an anger, an intensity and a Ritalin-needy persona, introducing the audience to different cultures simply from the dances they did as teens, growing up in the 80’s in Jackson Heights, Queens, New York. Having had the advantage of also growing up in the 80’s in Jackson Heights, Queens, New York, it probably made more sense to me, than to 90% of the audience, but they were all still captivated by his recounting of life.

His biography of exactly how dysfunctional his family was, provided vivid portraits, all told frantically, of his ancesters and immediate family, without the usual play-like characterizations that audiences have come to expect from him. Leguizamo reveals his exceptional talents as he portrays dozens of different ethnic characters he has encountered – Italians, Irish, Germans, Koreans, Jews, Latinos and West Coast “white dudes.” Sometimes it’s difficult to determine if there’s more than one person on stage. He allows us to view issues, such as abuse, neglect and peer pressures from a funny, straight to the point, view. Each event is unfolded, first as a story, then physically acted out, and concluded.

There are morals in there, or just maybe a giant think-tank of observations, in the hopes of coming to terms with his childhood problems. I think this tour is possibly a suggestion from his therapist, in order for him to vent his issues as he progresses forward into the future with his own children. A saving grace perhaps? Maybe…

Chris Fata
Trash City Magazine

None Dare Call It… Conspiracy Con 2001

Santa Clara, CA – 26th-27th May, 2001

It is perhaps appropriate that at the same time as the Bilderberg Group, those notorious bastions of the New World Order, were holding their annual get-together in Sweden, on the other side of the planet Conspiracy Con took place in Santa Clara, California. Quite possibly, some of the same topics were covered – only, here, it was from the outside…

Equally auspiciously (or suspiciously, depending on your point of view) the event shared convention facilities with another group whose initials were CC – the Charismatic Catholics, to be precise. The layout, with our lecture theater at the opposite end of the building from registration and the dealers’ room, required a substantial trek through enemy territory, and I imagine much peering around doors went on by both groups. I know we certainly were tempted to engage in a spot of infiltration, but suspect that the standard issue Trash City “nekkid babe with weaponry” T-shirt might tip them off. We had visions of pointing and shrieking – see Donald Sutherland in Invasion of the Body Snatchers for the sort of thing we imagined. On our arrival, there seemed to be very few attendees, but it seems you’ve got to get up early to be a conspiracy theorist. We meandered in at about 10am, only to discover events had started at 8:30 am, and so most of our co-conspirators were already listening to the first talk.

We hurried back to the theater, just in time to catch professional victim Cathy O’Brien and her “mentor” Mark Phillips. They were practically begging the audience to buy their book, so I strongly suspect they trotted out their usual lurid (and utterly unproven) tales of her sexual exploitation by everyone up to and including Ronald Reagan. Having just eaten breakfast, I feel kinda grateful to have missed it. I’d already ordered the book from Borders – hell, I like pornolibel as much as the next man – but the Thursday after the con, got the following email from them: “After researching your special order, we have found that we will be unable to obtain the title you requested. As a result, we have canceled your order for this item.” Hmmm… Was this merely innocent out-of-printness – hard to believe, given the piles on sale in the dealers’ room – OR SOMETHING MORE MALEVOLENT???!!!

11 am – Willam Lyne. Lyne’s specialist field is supposed to be the inventions of Nicolas Tesla, a scientist of the early 20th century who showed the thin line between genius and madness. But this was mostly a rambling, if not uninteresting, biographical essay, in which Lyne saw flying saucers, discovered a Soviet spy cell, was harassed by intelligence sources before being recruited by them, and had prior knowledge of JFK’s assassination. I think it was about the last of these which convinced me to stop looking for any useful information, and just sit back and enjoy the entertainment. This approach proved far more satisfactory. Rating: D+

Each speaker was given two hours, which is actually a good bit of time – I personally would have preferred one-hour slots, and this might have helped some of the speakers who were inclined to drift, with iceberg-like relentlessness, off-topic, as well as allowing for more viewpoints (including perhaps some sceptical ones). But at least they had the good sense to break for half-an-hour between speakers, giving the audience a chance to browse in the dealers’ room, stretch their legs and acquire more food and drink to be smuggled, thanks to the “no refreshments” policy into the lecture hall.

2:30 – Jordan Maxwell. Government – Religion – Commerce. In Maxwell’s eyes, none of them much good. This was refreshing and thought-provoking, stoning every sacred cow within reach via a mix of lexicography and sarcastic cynicism. We learned about the pagan origins of Christianity, what “holocaust” actually means, and how America became a literal corporate state not long after the Civil War, as well as techniques for avoiding speeding tickets. Probably the most widely-ranging talk of the convention, the audience left more world-weary than before, having spent time with a very interesting man. A-

Most of the speakers had tables in the dealers’ room to sell their books, etc. and there were also a number of independent traders, magazine publishers, and so on. These covered virtually the entire spectrum of views, from hippy New Age (getting your aura read, and some holistic technique which seemed to involve having a candle stuck in your ear) to neo-fascist (I spotted copies of both The Protocols of the Elders of Zion and Henry Ford’s The International Jew). A refreshing burst of humor was provided by Mr. Mystic and his Alien Abduction Survival Kit. We bought two.

5:00 – David Icke. As if two hours weren’t enough – keynote speaker Icke got 150 minutes each day to expound his philosophy, which gives some idea of how all-encompassing it is. Having ripped into him last TC, we opted to sit towards the back, just in case he recognised us. He’s certainly an entertaining speaker, and a lot of what he said here made sense, not least because in this part, he steered well clear of reptilian shape-shifting members of the Royal Family. Powerful bloodlines run through history, there seems little doubt – whether this proves anything beyond “if your Dad was powerful, you probably will be too”, I am less certain. The suggestion that Antz is a thinly-veiled New World Order tale was nice though. B+

The final event was an “all you can eat, meet your speaker” party, which really failed on both counts. Tickets were $30, which for two beers and a selection of hors d’oeuvres didn’t really cut it. And we never met any of the speakers, though we did chat to some other con-goers. Going by them, conspiracy seems to be largely a white, middle-class activity – presumably working-class people are too busy to worry about it, while the upper-class are in on the whole plan.

Separated at birth?
Roman Polanski – William Thomas

We quit early, but still missed the first speaker on Sunday, William Thomas – who bears a strong resemblance to Roman Polanski (as the photos show). His subject was chemtrails: how the government are using planes to dose the population with…well, we bought the book, but haven’t had time to read it yet, so we don’t really know yet. It’s unlikely to be good, whatever it is. My sleep had been disturbed by a dream which ended with me being shot in the back of the head – a swelling pressure, and a descending cloak of darkness, though this does at least disprove the theory that if you die in your dream, you die in real life.

11 am – Leonard Horowitz. This was particularly freaky, as Horowitz started off by asking for his prayers; he was flying off to Africa, and he’d had people telling him to watch out for his life. This developed into an excruciating 50-minute religious rant, which left us wondering if he was an agent for the Charismatic Catholics, and we almost bolted before half-way. When he finally got onto his subject – evolving viruses – he had some good material, albeit laced with kabbalistic numerology, and it was great to see the murals at Denver Airport. These are bizarre, surreal and nightmarish paintings of death symbolism, most unsuitable for an airport…except one run, according to a floor plaque, by the New World Airport Commission… C-

2:30 pm – “Victor”. Didn’t catch – or at least, can’t spell – his surname; he was a mate of Jordan Maxwell, largely promoting a scheme to convert your citizenship of the United States of America into a citizenship of America – which would free you from the need to pay taxes. This felt dubious at best – if it really worked, they’d be changing the law – and was also touted as a way to escape credit-card debt. Here’s an even better way: don’t use the damn things to start with. Had it’s moments, such as more nice anecdotes involving speeding tickets (a little legal knowledge goes a long way!), but was too much of a sales pitch to be interesting, especially to this British citizen! D-

Fashion item of the convention has to be a T-shirt, parodying the Sex Pistols LP: “Never mind the filthy lucre, here come the reptiles”, with the famous picture of the Queen, doctored so as to give her lizard eyes. Someone was giving these away in exchange for “donations” in the dealers’ room: would have asked questions as to their agenda, but was too concerned with acquiring the shirts. Essential wear should we ever get invited to a garden-party at Buckingham Palace.

5 pm – David Icke again. As expected, while still good fun, this was rather less convincing, even though he soft-pedalled the reptiloids more than in some of his books. I’ve met Edward Heath too, and he didn’t seem the baby-eating personification of evil he struck David Icke as, on first impression. At the end, he drifted well into metaphysical territory (reality is a hologram, etc.) and his final message appeared to be that we have to love the reptiles – okay, Mr. Icke is clearly a clever double-agent working for them. It seems to me that wiping out the entire Windsor bloodline would be just as effective, and a good deal more fun. B-

We had been hoping to go and get some food after this one, but a late start, Icke’s verbal diarrhoea (he spoke for nearer 3 hours) and a decision to bring the question and answer session forward put a damper on that. Defeated by the blanket ban on the movement of food, it was thus tortilla chips and salsa for dinner… to follow up on the tortilla chips we’d had for lunch. It will be some time before I can face them again, I think.

9 pm – Q&A panel. We’d seen only one speaker taking questions after their lecture; here was a chance to catch up with five of them. Overseen with no small degree of wit by con organiser Brian Hall, Icke was the main target, and came up with a fabulous story of a barrister whose little daughter had seen a senior judge shape-shift into a reptiloid, and whose career and life were being threatened as a result. Hollywood, hire this man! What I want to know is, why “they” leave all these signals and symbols about for us to find; it’s a bit like Blofeld telling 007 his plan for world domination in great detail. Despite the presence of a dickhead from Stuff magazine, asking a question about hair, perhaps most affecting was actually one questioner – a woman from Seattle – with a tale of harassment and intimidation which certainly convinced me. B

That was the end of the convention: a fabulous trip through the outer edges of knowledge, and plans are already afoot for ConCon II next year – if the powers that be don’t clamp down on such subversive events. Certainly, for both education and entertainment, it was a weekend that was hard to beat and we staggered out into the darkness, our minds reeling from the torrent of information poured into it over the previous 36 hours. Picking the bones out of it all, separating the wheat from the chaff, was going to take some time, and I resolved that the next book I read would be one about fluffy bunny-rabbits, purely for a change of scenery. “Let’s do this again,” said Chris, adding with some conviction, “next year.” I nodded. Right then, I just needed to lie down in a dark room for a bit, but maybe that was just the tortilla chips.

7th Los Angeles Film Festival

Hollywood, Los Angeles, April 20-28, 2001

You know you’re in California when every piece of electrical apparatus, from automatic doors to lifts, has instructions on it detailing what to do when the power fails. Fortunately, the Los Angeles Film Festival was mercifully spared any of the rolling blackouts which been all too common in the state recently – the thought of projecting movies by pulling the film past a candle really doesn’t bear thinking about.

This year, the film was incorporated into part of the Independent Feature Project/West, a strangely named group looking after indie film-makers and cheerleading for their movies. One was left to contemplate the significance of the logo – as seen at the top. This portrays someone desperately pushing a film reel up a very steep slope, which is a good enough metaphor for the process of movie-making by all accounts. The fact that, at the top, there appears to be nothing but a precipice is presumably a good enough metaphor for the eventual fate of most non-studio product. Is that a Blockbuster video card lurking at the bottom?

This CD will self-destruct in 5 seconds

The nine day festival had over ninety films, but due to time constraints we could only sample a few, opting (as you might expect) for the ones that didn’t involve powerful coming-of-age sagas, poignant and sometimes hilarious stories about what happens when life moves on, or fresh takes on the subject of sex and the single girl. [All three could be found in the festival program] For what’s the point of being independent if you’re going to churn out the same kind of thing as a mediocre movie-of-the-week on a mainstream cable channel? Thanks, but we’ll pass.

Most of the screenings took place at the Directors’ Guild of America headquarters on Sunset Boulevard. Naturally, I took the chance to play at being Spielberg, striding into the building, barking loudly into a cellphone about weekend grosses and pay-for-play deals. I think my poor mother was very confused by the end of the conversation, but never mind. The screening rooms were fine, if a little spartan – I mean, no drinks-holders, and while they sold food in the foyer (this being California, it was sushi and cappucino rather than popcorn and Coke), they wouldn’t let you take anything into the screens. So much for the cinematic experience. Still, nothing that couldn’t be solved, thanks to a capacious hockey-shirt, capable of holding an entire picnic in its sleeves.

The LA Film School and the Laemmle Sunset 5 also provided venues, though we never got to the latter, presumably because it was playing the kind of fodder appropriate to its multiplex nature. The Film School was further along Sunset Boulevard, with the cinema tucked round the corner in a low-key manner inappropriate for anything to do with film schools, but we did discover a really decent BBQ joint up the street which helped keep those of us less keen on sushi nutritionally sustained.

The big buzzwords at the festival appeared to be “digital video”, with several of the screenings coming off this medium, yet looking barely inferior to regular projection. People like Bernard (Paperhouse) Rose are extremely enthusiastic about its possibilities, and with good packages available for just a few thousand dollars, it does seem to offer low-budget film-makers a great deal of flexibility and possibility. Disturbingly for those in the business, it may eventually also mean an end to the need for special lighting, cinematographers and a lot of the other paraphenalia traditionally associated with “movie making”. We script-writers, however, should be safe. 🙂 For an example of the possibilities, check out www.filmisdead.com.

But enough of such technical issues! Film festivals are, after all, about the films. So, without further ado, I’ll point you in the direction of the reviews, while I keep on trying to discover how I can get a Trash City star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame…

Festival Reviews