State of the Art
P-Town Film Fest
by Gerald Peary
"Will there be a ribbon-cutting at the First Provincetown International
Festival?", I queried Marianne Lampke, who with her Brattle Theatre partner
Connie White and P-Town's PJ Layng was doing the producing and programming.
"No, just show up at opening night." That's what I did, for the June 18
screening of Gregg Araki's Splendor, at the New Art Cinema on Commercial
Street.
A good sign: almost a full house. Splendor, fairly funny, is about a
young woman with two lovers, and eventually the three share a bed. The woman
gets pregnant, the men squabble about which is the father. The woman, tired of
their immaturities, becomes engaged to a neutered yet nurturing TV director. On
the day of the wedding, the two ex-beaux to the rescue!
Filmmaker Araki used to be very gay, so they say, when he made anarchic,
bisexual indies like The Doom Generation and The Living
End. Now he's "come in," a friend of his noted, and he's lovy with his
Splendor star, Kathleen Robertson. Maybe that's why the men in
Splendor never become lovers, and there's that baby stuff.
Both answered questions afterward. The genial Araki, with his dark bangs,
looks like an Apache; Robertson, with glasses, curly hair, and a deliciously
upturned nose, was, my friend observed, like "a pint-sized Nicole Kidman."
"My films are a reflection of where I am, a place of love and good vibes
instead of Nine Inch Nails," Araki said. "The soul of this film isn't so
different from my other films, just another genre." Araki calls Splendor
a screwball comedy, his favorite genre when he attended film school at UC-Santa
Barbara. "I've seen all of them: His Girl Friday, The
Philadelphia Story, Design for Living, and Bringing Up
Baby, my favorite of all time."
His next project? "I'm frustrated with the problem of getting a distributor,
getting an audience. So I'm developing a series for MTV, my version of a
Dawson's Creek. They are paying me to write the pilot."
After the opening film: a great P-Town Fest opening-night party by a swimming
pool at the Brass Key Guest Houses. Shrimp, lox, and the champagne flowed.
Among the fabulous guests: Pink Flamingos superstar Mary Vivien Pierce,
up from Baltimore.
The next day, I returned to Boston and missed popular screenings: Head
On, Dope, Loose Ends, and, worse, the main event, "An Evening
with John Waters," with Phoenix publisher Stephen Mindich presenting
Waters with a "Filmmakers on the Edge" Award. But I did have a lunch with
Waters and heard about his major purchase while in Paris: The Margaret
Duras Cookbook. I also got a copy autographed (on an anonymous rump)
of Waters's 500-copy mini-book, 12 Assholes and a Dirty Foot.
"This is how Cannes started out," Waters talked approvingly of the festival,
"as an off-season event. What better reason to visit town? And they picked
really good movies. I've been coming to P-Town for 35 years without a
festival. Finally, we have it!"
And in 2000? "A giant screen so the whole of Provincetown can watch movies in
front of the wharf . . . A lesbian sidebar . . .
Bad straight movies so all the gays can laugh at straight
people . . . A sexually incorrect film festival!"