By Karlee Boon
To most of its attendees and filmmakers, the 2020 Portland International Film Festival will most likely be a week they will never forget. Amidst the growing fears of COVID-19, the festival was able to run up through its Wednesday evening program until finally, on the afternoon of March 12, PIFF was forced to cancel all remaining screenings. Unfortunately, due to these circumstances, many passholders like myself were not able to take full advantage of all of the films that this event had to offer. With the chaos of an impending pandemic, among other changes like combining PIFF with the long-running NW Filmmakers fest and introduction of jury-style audience voting, PIFF was a significantly different festival in 2020 than in years prior. Since its abrupt end last week, the Portland film community has only continued to take hit after hit in the many days since its cancellation – with The Clinton and Hollywood Theater soon following suit. In the shadow of PIFF’s shutdown, it is important to take a look back on what the festival succeeded in, as well as what it could work to improve upon its eventual rescheduling and in the years to come.
Over the first week that PIFF was showing films, I was able to catch two particular features that I had been looking forward to for a while. The first screening was the World Premiere of Frank and Zed, a locally-made horror/comedy starring an all-puppet cast. The director, Jesse Blanchard, was present for a Q&A following the film and shared all details of its production, including that he had been working on the film for over four years before he even began crowdfunding and promoting it. Finally, after a total of six years in production, Frank and Zed was completed and entered into festivals in late 2019.
The second film I got to attend was Thunderbolt in Mine Eye, one of the last exhibited works at PIFF 2020, which premiered on the evening of Wednesday, March 11. Like Frank and Zed, Thunderbolt was also made here in Portland by the brother/sister directing duo Sarah and Zachary Sherman. The film itself felt very familiar, with a plot and thematic arc that didn’t really bring anything new to the coming-of-age romance genre. However, Thunderbolt did succeed in its casting decisions, especially in its prioritization of the casting of actual teenage actors. Beyond the actual film, I was almost more excited to stay behind for the Q&A with the directors and actors, during which they gave the audience insight on their casting methods, crowdfunding strategies, and even how they eventually had film executive produced by the Duplass Brothers.
As Rastegar discusses in her essay “Seeing Differently,” “The exhibition structure of a festival impacts which audiences attend, how they watch the films, and what kinds of engagements they make with each other before and after screenings,” (189). It’s clear that the venue a film is shown in has a big impact on the way its viewers interact with the material, and this was proven between my two experiences at PIFF with the screenings of both Frank and Zed and Thunderbolt in Mine Eye. Frank and Zed, which debuted at Cinema 21, had a very “cinema of attractions” exhibition mode, with puppeteers greeting audiences at the door and many of the film’s more iconic props being placed on display in the lobby. Because this particular film was a part of the PIFF After Dark program, the crowd was much more lively and talkative than in other festival screenings I’ve attended. In contrast, the screening of Thunderbolt felt far more sterile and academic, something I can’t help but attribute to any experience I have at the Whitsell. By holding this screening in the auditorium of an art museum, there was an automatic heir of professionalism surrounding the event, providing far less rowdiness and more of a respectable, thoughtful viewing experience.
Besides the dramatically different viewing experience between film screenings, PIFF seemed to present almost two eventirely different festivals through its programming decisions. Despite literally standing for “Portland International Film Festival,” PIFF’s international film selections failed to sway me in choosing them over a locally-made film. A big factor for this is that, obviously, local filmmakers from the Northwest are far more likely to attend screenings in their own cities. Because of this, I felt that I would be getting an overall better festival experience by seeing films where there was guaranteed to be some kind of Q&A session with its creators afterwards. Having the opportunity to listen to other independent filmmakers’ experiences and struggles with production, crowdfunding and distribution is invaluable to myself and other young directors, as well as an audience member who may not be able to get the same level of insight from an international film where the director isn’t present.
Because of these sentiments, which I’m sure many other student attendees could agree with, I found the choice to combine PIFF with the previous NW Filmmakers Festival an odd one. The ladder festival, which was also run by the NW Film Center, was created specifically to showcase works from regional artists throughout the Pacific Northwest. As Stringer writes in his essay “Global Cities and the International Film Festival Economy,” film festivals have to be competitive in two different sectors: it’s position as a fixture in the local community, as well as a constant move towards expansion (139). The Film Center took a big risk this year by combining both festivals together in an attempt to expand its targeted audiences as well as the scale of the festival as a whole. For those interested in both international and locally-made productions, the combination of these two festivals forced many to choose which films they wanted to support more, as well as decide which screening would provide a more unique experience as an audience member. Unfortunately, this decision from PIFF, was one that I did not feel paid off – not only for attendees, but filmmakers as well. As Wong writes, film festivals, especially small, local fests like PIFF, “shape the lives and future of film workers” by promoting new work from smaller creators and exposing them to potentially life-changing opportunities (14). By taking a festival created specifically to showcase these artists, as well as already established local filmmakers, and merging it with an international program, PIFF took opportunities away from its local community members. As Wong states, “these [local] festivals are vital parts of local filmic, artistic, and sociocultural worlds” and should be respected as such (13). I believe PIFF took a misguided step in combining both of its festivals into one event, and it feels that the local film industry was be negatively impacted in the process.
In the wake of PIFF’s shutdown and with the virus slowly taking its toll on audiences around the country, forcing people to stay out of the public sphere and away from communal film viewing, it will be fascinating to see how cinema exhibition will continue to push forward. During its short 2020 festival, the PIFF programmers were able to showcase a number of fantastic locally-made works, but unfortunately were not able to give them the recognition they would’ve received had they premiered at their own event. In Portland, a community which is basically glued together by the vibrant arts community within it, cinema is an intrinsic part of our everyday lives. I’m looking forward to watching how many theaters and film festivals like PIFF will continue to work through these next months, with some potentially new and exciting exhibition modes being utilized in the process.
Works Cited:
Rastegar, Roya. “Seeing Differently: The Curatorial Potential of Film Festival Programming.”
Stringer, Julian. “Global Cities and International Film Festival Economy.” Cinema and the City: Film and Urban Societies in a Global Context, edited by Mark Shiel and Tony Fitzmaurice, Blackwell, 2001.
Wong, Cindy Hung-yuk. “Introduction,” Film Festivals: Culture, People & Power on the Global Screen, Routledge, 2011.
PSU School of Film @ PIFF 