Since the movies I saw today are not really worth writing about, and every other thing I encountered outside of the films was a lot more interesting, I feel more inspired to capture those little happenings.
Walking around in between films I passed a store that had a robe in the windowshop that on the back had ‘Top Mother’ stitched on in big, round curvy letters. I found it odd and later returned to look at it again. This time I saw there were more words, hiding under the hood of the robe a bit, those words were ‘Hollands Next’. I guess life in Rotterdam is just more family-focused. That’s interesting because a lot of these ‘Top Mothers’ seem to be crowding the cinemas, similar to the lonely women in Amsterdam with the all-you-can-see Cineville pass filling the screening rooms on dowdy tuesday afternoons. When having the overly chatty variations next to me in a sold out movie, I find myself trying to calm me down, thinking ‘these poor women have just as much right to access cinema as you, you kino-snob.’ Still I couldn’t help getting agitated. If only they would shut their muffin a bit more, or a lot more. ‘Seats a little more in the middle of the cinema would’ve been nice, but this will do fine anyway, right? -Yes this is just perfectly fine. Great. -Fine’. They were talking well into the opening credits. Just dialogue machines with annoying voices. Ok, STOP. ‘They can probably relate to the theme’ or ‘are connected in a different way’ I tell myself. And then you meet them in the toilet.. again ‘well I liked this movie just a tiny bit better than the one before, wouldn’t you agree? The coolest thing would be if these middle-aged maidens would end up in a movie they didn’t intend seeing. ‘Kill Bill 5? Isn’t that supposed to be about people running into debt and living without electricity because they didn’t pay their dues? Off course I am vastly underestimating and generalising this particular group of sitting-behind-the-flowers-and-looking-out-The Winda chicks. I keep telling myself that. Count to 10…
Another recurring phenomenon is the uniform of male filmmakers, that seem to have been secretly agreed upon in a Skulls-but-for-film oath. I bet they have a brandmerk under their expensive black shirt. Recognised from miles ahead, ¾ length preferably black or army green coats, the beginning of a non-chalant yet unshaven face-mane, an array of glasses, expensive sporty shoes and unruly hair starting at halflong are the signs that you are in the middle filmfestival apocalypse.. where soon they all turn into zombies and force producers into contracts with the threat of eating their kids.
Lettuce-infused rituals & overflowing escalators
Yesterday happened to be Chinese new-year and so today there was random fireworks at random times and a small 10-person parade through Rotterdam with a ritual involving lettuce (?). I don’t suppose it is to get people to eat healthier, a sort of blending of trying to beat obesity with a ritual involving dance and beatz to the drum.
Then there was a sort of Tati-esque situation where everyone was headed up one small escalator to a sold-out cinema room and as I was approaching the level no-one could really move and we were just decisive moments away from a happy-hippo-people-pile.
So mind that the (sometimes superfluous) amount of attention that you and everyone pays to every little detail of a film, could also be well invested in looking at everything that surrounds you and the threatre and around it! As being a good osberver will be time well spent, no ticketstub required.