Sorry for the Kevin Costner metaphor, but it’s a great movie. Right up there with Dirty Dancing. I’m dreaming. It’s the usual mix of sexy-time or unfinished business with a bully from childhood (not related dreamscapes). Then I’m at a film showing. The theatre is a small beach cove where the beach itself is only about 3m wide. Water is calm, gently licking the creamy white sand. I’m then licking an ice-cream, having thought about the water licking the sand. A screen is perched on some rocks, balanced with driftwood planks and tethered with fishing line. It’s clearly the work of a castaway, one who happens to be having a film premiere on his island.
By the look of things, the film is ready to start. I’m sitting at the high-tide mark with my best friend. His foot rests on one of the rocks, supporting the projector, keeping both rock and projector from wobbling. I can’t see any power leads to the projector. There are no speakers.
The cove itself is mostly vegetated, and I must say, a crap spot to show a film. Windy, mosquitoes, and almost no clear line of sight. The screen can be seen clearly by myself, the four people around me, and a fat Cape Barron goose pecking one of the guy lines to the screen. No one else can see much. They, the crowd, have to look through our heads, the tee-tree, and various other dune vegetation blocking their view. Yet in they pour! People in hats and old business shirts (my kinda people!), in burkenstocked feet, most have cheap camping chairs tucked under their arms as they filter in. It’s as if a whole bunch of adults are actually 4 years old and pretending to hide, badly, in the coastal vegetation behind me. But bugger me if it’s not a good vibe! In fact, it feels like a summer music festival. Flowery, light, friendly, a little bit loose.
I push play and see myself digging a hole, not metaphorically, but actually digging a hole (on the screen, on the rocks, in my dreams), and think golly, what a strange start to a sea kayaking film…
I feel myself sliding. Actually sliding, towards the saggy edge of my bed. The fancy bamboo mattress topper than Helen bought for my crap bed tends to lead me towards the floor most nights, and is a timely reminder to get up. I do, and end my Film Premiere, just before things get interesting.
If you want to see what happens after I dig a hole, at a showing that has a power cord, and speakers, then come along to the premier of my latest film (my first series) Bass by Kayak. Yes, it’s the one I’ve been crying wolf about for the last 6 months.
Seating is limited. First in best dressed (a free event).
Nice one (Jim, camp chairs not needed).