Her hair was black and her eyes were blue
Back in and slowly recovering from the Galway Film Fleadh.
This is what Shamrocracy looks like, just before the audience arrived.
Galway Film Fleadh, Town Hall, Galway, Friday July 13th
The screening itself was a huge success, sold-out and a full house despite its brunch-time showing. A quick snapshot of the no-doubt totally unbiased online critics in the immediate aftermath of the show produced feedback that ranged from "crazy, crazy stuff" and "very very uncomfortable viewing" to "by far the best thing I've seen in AGES!!", all of which was high praise indeed as to be honest I was just very happy that everyone laughed in all the right places, and a good few of the wrong ones.
The Film Fleadh has been described as a "Producer's festival", by which they mean it's all about the money. Every conversation with a stranger seems to start with them asking, "so what do you do here", by which they mean "so what can you do for me here", and they talk to you with one eye always on the crowd around you waiting to see if there is someone else just arriving that would be more useful. Much of my time there was spent in a succession of speed dating events where you are given thirty minutes face time with various distributors, festivals and financiers, then the metaphorical bell rings and you move on to the next table to have the same conversation all over again, and as much time was spent talking about our next projects as about our current film.
In film speak my elevator pitch for the weekend would be Groundhog Day meets Boiler Room as shot by Dziga Vertov on Red Bull; slap on a few Michael Bay explosions, a JJ Abrams lens flare and a trailer intercut with ominous foghorn sounds and I think we've got ourselves an opening weekend record-breaker.
Anyway, back home now and preparing to crank up the grumpy-meter and catch up on all the political and fiscal shenanigans that seem to have happened while I was somewhat distracted.