Month: October 2019

Wow. Honestly, I did not expect that.

As I mentioned here before, my short screenplay, FLYPAPER, was a finalist in the screenplay competition at this year’s H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival in Portland, Oregon. I love submitting to this competition, because I think I can safely say that these are my people. We care about the same things. We want good things for each other. We love to see what everyone’s up to. It’s not a perfect community–if such a thing exists–but it’s most often lovely and supportive and surprising and above all welcoming. To make it as a finalist is a reminder that I am on the right track when it comes to doing my bit for weird cinema.

There was a lot for us to do in Portland this weekend. For me, the festival was half the joy and all of the anxiety of anticipation. The other half of the joy was getting to spend some time with some close friends of ours who have landed in the Rose City, one of whom was also having her birthday week. Happy Birthday, Katie!

Unfortunately, the weekend was a bit compressed for Christina and I due to work obligations. As a result, I was only able to catch two film blocks, one panel, and then give my own author reading, and attend the awards ceremony on Sunday evening. The best social time was Saturday morning, when I hung out with Sam Cowan and Mike Griffin behind the Word Horde table at the EOD Center across from the Hollywood Theater. The EOD Center is where about half the vendors and most of the literary and discussion portions of the fest take place. Saturday morning is a group author signing with donuts, bagels, and coffee (Carbload for Cthulhu!), and I was only too happy to spend the morning getting to know Sam and Mike better.

I missed out on the festival screenings of Richard Stanley’s new The Colour Out of Space with Nic Cage, and that is a real regret, even though I know I will get to see the film soon. However, I did see the Russian feature The Lost Island, and Shorts Block 6, which included several very good shorts, top among them being “In A Strange Town,” the proof of concept episode for a potential Thomas Ligotti series, and “The Cultist Nextdoor,” a comedic 1950s government PSA about the dangers of cultists in our midst.

My author reading was scheduled for Sunday afternoon in the EOD Center classroom, and this meant that the sun was beating in the shop windows in that small room. It was quite the toaster oven. There was a struggling box fan, but I think everyone who came in just decided that they would just grit their teeth and get through it. I was reminded of the line from Neil Innes as Raymond Scum (Monty Python), “I’ve suffered for my music, now it’s your turn.” The reading went well, I thought. I read a different portion of Memento Mori than I have before, and it seemed well-received. I was followed by Evan Peterson read from “The Chemical Bride,” and then John Shirley (co-screenwriter of The Crow) read a bit from one of the stories in Cellars. It was a grand time, and I think no one passed out!

After a pause to catch our breath, cool off, and fortify ourselves before 7pm, we headed back to the Hollywood Theater main auditorium for the festival awards ceremony. Brian and Gwen Callahan, the directors of the festival, were dressed in their Sunday best and helped on stage by Cthulhu, who was handing out awards and telling people where to stand (while remaining cosmically indifferent; it’s sort of amazing to watch).

The script award was the third announced, and Gwen explained how the jury had over one hundred scripts to read through and they ultimately settled on three as finalists. Holy smokes! I had no idea there were so few finalists this year. When I heard that, my anticipation spiked, because one in three is a lot more likely than, say, one in six. And then, a moment later, Gwen said my name and the name of the script. It was a pretty perfect moment. I allowed myself the WHOOP and the fist pump on the way up to the stage. I wasn’t really interested in keeping any of it inside. It was one of those moments that comes along so rarely, and I was committed to reveling in it.

And then I had the pleasure of standing on stage and congratulating Richard Stanley as he came up to get his award for Best Feature and then also his second award for Audience Choice! Perhaps not surprising, but totally cool. In fact, it feels great to shake hands with and applaud all of the filmmakers who worked so hard to make art that found its way into the festival. I also got to shake hands with and stand next to Victoria Price (daughter of Vincent!) who was awarded the Howie by the festival founder, Andrew Migliore.

After the ceremony, our party retired to the Moon and Sixpence for drinks and dinner before Christina and I needed to jump on the train to the airport for our red-eye flight. I missed out on drinks and conversations with Andrew and with Scott Glancy, and I would have liked to have spent a little more time with Ross Lockhart, but I have a feeling that I am really only just beginning the serious momentum of my involvement in this group. I have been coming to the HPLFF off and on since 2003 (when I DROVE there from Ohio), and I don’t see me getting tired of it any time soon.