Chicago Diary 01: Andersonville and the Experimental Film Festival
I fell in love with Andersonville tonight.
I heard about the Onion City Experimental Film Festival on Chicago Public Radio on my way home from work the other day, so tonight I headed over to Andersonville to catch the 8:00 showings. I didn't remember the exact address, just parked in the general area and hoped the venue would stand out.
It didn't. I was looking for a movie theater, but all I saw was a rental place. I went in to ask for directions. The racks of films I passed were divided by country. It reminded me of a quirky little place where my college roommate and I used to rent.
The guys behind the counter hadn't heard of the festival, but they gave me an idea of which way to go.
Next I asked a man in a suit and a woman in a summer dress standing outside the Swedish American Heritage Museum. They had also never heard of the festival, but they pointed me to a tiny bar that was sure to be full of locals.
The bartender called me "sweetie" and directed me to free copies of The Onion on a bench in the corner. An elderly couple sitting in the stools nearest to me jumped in, and the husband suggested I try the film school across the street.
That sounded about right. It was just where he said it would be, and a small crowd of people was gathered outside discussing next to a poster board advertising the event.
I went through the door and up a steep set of wooden stairs to a smiling man sitting behind a desk. "Welcome to Filmmakers!" he cheered.
I bought a ticket and sat down on a bench to read the program. I would be viewing maybe six short films, including one featuring a Jane Fonda workout.
After a few minutes, the crowd of maybe 15 people moved into the theater, which consisted of seven rows of folding chairs in front of a pull-down screen. I sat in a row by myself, but a guy with a pointy goatee sat one seat away.
"Actually, can I sit there?" he asked, pointing to the chair next to me. "I can't see."
"Sure," I said.
"Do you study film?"
"No."
"Oh. Well, I'm not a director either. I'm studying film production."
I looked around the room at the horn-rim glasses and long skirts and was pretty sure he wasn't the only one.
A kid with long hair introduced the lineup then retired to the back room to listen to college radio.
The films were an odd collection, shown one after the other with black-outs between. My favorite split a Bollywood film into mirror images and cut it down into a 20-minute short. The identical arms of dancers snaked out from the middle of the screen, connected at the center, and cyclops women expanded into creatures with two noses then shrank back into ovals with styled black hair. An approaching car on a dirt road narrowed into a thin line then disappeared into a burst of dust.
The short that went completely over my head was two minutes of the voice of a woman describing the contents of her handbag set to a flashing psychedelic montage of pictures of a little girl and rabbits.
At the end of an hour and a half, my brain was buzzing. It was a nice feeling.
But the reason I fell in love with Andersonville was my walk back to my car when the festival was over. It was about 9:30 p.m. and Clark Street was lit in firefly yellow street light. The restaurants and cafes had opened their doors to move the tables out into the air. There was no loud bar music, just people talking.
I headed down a side street toward my car, impressively parallel parked with only a few inches of room on either side. There were fewer street lights there. The lights on porches and in living rooms illuminated the way. I heard a loud crack in the distance and, through the trees, witnessed the beginning of the bi-weekly Navy Pier fireworks show. I stood on the corner and watched the sparks burst and sink, feeling for the first time like I belong here.
IF YOU GO
What: The Onion City Experimental Film Festival
When: Sunday, June 17; showings of different entries at 1:00, 3:00, 6:30, and 8:30
Where: Chicago Filmmakers, 5243 N. Clark St.
How Much: $8 per screening for general public, reduced price for students and members
