Three years ago I was supposed to attend an indoor film festival in Bucharest, that shall not be named. It was a particularly hot day of a particularly hot July, and I was returning from my activities in the city, ready to chill with my friends. A year prior, I had purchased a water thermos which I was beginning to grow terribly fond of. At the ripe age of 26, I had at last discovered a way to defeat the summer heatwave, by always having on me ice-cold water that would not get stale during my daily trips through the sizzling urban desert. It was better for my pocket and for the environment. Win-win. Where I went, my thermos went. Heck, that little vacuum flask may be the best 10 bucks I ever spent. But I digress. I was standing in one of the HUGE lines of people with the ticket in my hand, waiting to be “processed” by a couple of zealous volunteers, who were fervently checking everybody’s backpacks, purses and
pockets, with a thoroughness that would put most TSAs to shame.
“Well, in a time as crazy as ours, safety is of paramount importance.” - You’d probably say.
As it turns out however, they weren't at all checking for weapons, blunt objects, explosive devices or envelopes of anthrax. No, they were searching every nook and cranny for... peanuts and soda. There was not one person that got through without having to subject himself to this humiliating practice. Everybody was groaning. At every entrance, there was a huge bin with a mountain of half drank water bottles, half eaten chip bags, half full M&M packs. I finally get my turn, and my backpack gets searched. The deft bouncer-wannabe finds a couple of cranberry biscuits in a small pocket.
“You ain't going in with that. Throw it in the bin.”
“You... do know this is wasting food, right?”
The gentleman produces a smile, with the charm of a riot policeman.
“Then eat it now... BEFORE you enter.”
I begrudgingly step off to the side, take a seat on the curb, and start munching on the biscuits. I take a moment, observing the queues: happy people come up to the entrance, angry people enter.
I finish the biscuits, and I go to the entrance. The guy tells me to stay in line once more. Grinding my teeth, I obey. I just wanted to get this over with. Finally having reached the improvised checkpoint once more, I get ready to enter. The man searches the backpack again, even more thoroughly than the first time. He takes his time, looking at this strange object in my backpack. He keeps looking at it, until he finally musters the courage to admit he has no idea what it is, and asks me.
“What’s this, a thick deodorant?”
“No, it’s a thermos.”
He starts laughing.
“You’re going around in this heat with hot coffee in your backpack?!”
“Thermoses also keep stuff COLD. It’s for cold wate-”
Before I end the sentence, his eyes bulge up and he snaps:
“YOU AIN’T GOING IN WITH THA-”
Before HE ends the sentence, I open up the thermos and spill all the remaining precious ice-cold water on the asphalt. I swear it almost sizzled.
“There. HAPPY, chief? It’s alright, dude. I’m gonna buy water from the venue, at 10x the price, just like everyone else. Are we DONE here?”
The good man starts grinning again.
“You ain’t going in with that.”
“What do you mean?!”
“You AIN’T gonna enter with that. You just won’t.”
“The HELL am I supposed to do with it?”
“Not my problem. Go and leave it in the car.”
“Dude, I came here by BUS!”
The man chuckles like a hyena.
“Then you throw it in the bin.”
“Um...WHAT?!”
“You ain’t coming in with that. What if you use it to take water from the bathroom?”
“From... the... eco-toilet?!”
“Y-yeah.”
The very next second, I yell out “WHO WANTS A FREE TICKEEEEET?!”, I give it away, then I turn to the gentleman and serenade him with a small arrangement of Romanian profanities.
On the way home, the anger turns to disgust and disappointment. I then read the reviews about that festival night and see so much resentment from the attendees.
Over the following months and year, I kept hearing about all sorts of similar mishaps happening at other festivals. When asking people what they felt about the issue, a large portion of them would be claiming that almost everything nowadays, regardless of the type of artistic event, has become “way too commercial”, “way too cynical”, “way too business”, and that’s just the way thing are now.
I kept asking myself:
“When the hell did film festivals turn into... this? They were supposed to be all about the magic of cinema and dare I say... culture. Aren’t they organized by cinephiles, not... greedy scammers?”
And most importantly:
“Is this THE ONLY WAY to go about it, in this day and age?”
That’s the question I, along with Ștefan Nistor and few good friends are trying to find an answer to with the “To The Wild” Independent Film Festival.
Other Questions You Might Ask
“Can you still go to a film festival and not be pelted in the face with brands and commercials at every single corner?”
There are NO BRANDS present at our festival. The only “products” we are promoting are the films themselves.
“Can you still go to a film festival and not worry that you are being scammed out of your money when you want to drink a soda or eat a snack?”
Bring YOUR OWN FOOD AND SOFT DRINKS with you to our festival.
That’s why it’s called a picnic-festival. Also, there is NO ENTRY FEE.
“Can you still go to a film festival and feel like it’s actually about the joy of discovering new cinema?”
“To The Wild” features independent films made by hard working, passionate filmmakers. Some of these films are exclusives. Some are shown for the first time here. Furthermore, some of the said creators are present. Also, for an innovative, AWESOME immersive experience, we are providing the attendees the possibility to listen to the film audio on their personal headphones, using their smartphones.
“To The Wild” IS about the movies.
“There is no way you can make an independent film festival and not charge money for it, these things are expensive as hell!”
Well, we have actually built a lot of our own stuff. Rest assured, the image and sound will rival lots of indoor cinemas from Bucharest. As for the comfort of the attendees, this is one of the reasons we have went for an outdoor, picnic festival experience. Not only is it set in a beautiful place that feels remote even if it’s actually on the city outskirts. Each is responsible for his/her own comfort, and as it turns out, it really doesn’t take much work to get really comfortable. We provide you with the main parameters for a really good time, you just have to help yourself out a bit. Which means, grab a picnic blanket, a pillow, a hoodie, and some mosquito-repellent, and you’re good to go.
“This festival sounds too good to be true. Will I be taken advantage of, in some form or another?”
There is no catch. This isn’t a religious sect or a political stunt. This isn’t a scam. It’s just a few people trying to find out if there is another way to go about this “film festival thing”, or if indeed unpleasant experiences generated by the commercial compromises just have to be part and parcel of the festival goer’s experience.
Well, guess what? After pulling it off last year, at our first edition, offering our attendees a film festival experience rivaling those that easily cost 100x more, we KNOW that things can be done differently.
In conclusion
I personally am of the mindset that, no matter how passionate and indie you are, you cannot completely divorce filmmaking from the commercial aspect. In fact, I believe movies in general have thrived and evolved partly BECAUSE of it. We would be robbed of thousands of cinematic masterpieces if you were to remove it.
That’s not at all what we are trying to do with “To The Wild”. We’re merely trying to send a message, to dial back a little on the terrible excesses of said commercial aspect, to return to the exciting and magical essence of film festivals, and maybe inspire others to do the same. And... it seems we already have.
I hope we’ll see you there, we’ll be watching some cool movies and we’ll have a good time. Event link: bit.ly/tothewild2019
