Guest Post: My First Ever Artistic Film Was Accepted To Kinemastik Festival… Then It All Went Sour
The news that my very first artistic film had been accepted to the Kinemastik Film Festival came over me like a soft, warm wave. I was thrilled, yet oddly calm. This would be the first real recognition of stepping into the world as an artist.
What happened was far from a celebration of my achievement. As the festival date grew closer, I checked Facebook regularly to see announcements of all the films that would be featured.
Eventually, it became clear that the local films, thrown into the “Neck of the Woods” section, would not be promoted. My friends asked me when my film would be playing, to which I responded dispiritedly that I didn’t know. The film programme would only be published online on the festival’s opening night.
I arrived at the venue with trepidation, suddenly dumbfounded that I made a film in the first place and terrified that anyone would decide to watch it. I stood in a ridiculously long queue for beer to help collect my nerves.
The Kinemastik Film Festival at the Garden of Rest, Floriana
But my nervousness quickly scaled down to a near numbness as I saw the area where the local screenings would take place: a screening with no proper screens. Instead, two monitors were placed on the ground.
The films on the main screen began to play without an announcement, no introduction of the judges and no notification of the technical issues in the Neck of the Woods, either. I was flabbergasted at this point. I went up to the staff asking about the issue, which I soon regretted as I was given a sob story about the company who set up the space, apparently did so incorrectly and didn’t bother to test the equipment before leaving.
It wasn’t their fault, of course, and they love the Neck of the Woods – in theory, as I had not observed a single staff person watching the films. After spending several minutes pretending that I cared about their excuses, I was assured that the following day, there would be no technical problems.
The local films eventually played later in the night, again, without any announcement. I happened to notice as I walked past and asked the staff which film was currently playing, so I could know whether I missed mine. “I don’t know,” one of them replied.
A clip from Nika Levikov's film
The following night the technical issues commenced. At least they had placed speakers next to the monitors, given the night before the sound was barely audible. The staff, of course, were nowhere to be seen and had to be located to inform them of the films which we couldn’t understand were meant to be abstract stop frames or just weren’t loading properly.
I was aghast at some of the films chosen, from terrible dialogue to cliché endings to bad lighting and senseless plots. Was my film even considered, or did the staff just accept all the entries blindly?
Eventually, my film came on. Despite all the disappointment, there was still a lingering excitement to see my film, my name, come up on the display. Beneath ‘Coffee Monologue’ I read the film director’s name, one I couldn’t recognise.
I can’t describe what I felt in that moment, perhaps something akin to bemusement, the festival itself having turned into a tragicomedy and inwardly declaring that my film has not successfully been screened at one.
A clip from Nika Levikov's film
I observed several people watching. What were they thinking? Did they feel anything? Was it just jarring images and confusion? It would be difficult to experience anything at all, I thought, given the booming sounds from the main screen were so loud that it was impossible to hear the crucial sounds in my own.
Of course, no one would come up to me asking me questions about it. No one would honour me with a conversation.
I bumped into a friend who I was surprised to see and stated so. “I’m just here for the after-party,” he said. And so the event came to a close.
No workshops, panel discussions or director Q&As and no announcement of the winning films either, those would come later on Facebook, as if Kinemastik was making fun of its own silly masquerade.
The party was, in fact, what many people seemed to be there for.
I question why the Arts Council Malta continues to fund an event that clearly doesn’t respect or care for art. And to Kinemastik, I beg you, embrace who you really are: a f****** good party
Nika Levikov is an artist and project manager