We weren’t prepared to feel quite so bereft after our final night of screenings yesterday. Having spent the last three evenings in such terrific company - and having made the cinema our second home - we realised we only had one more day to spend with all the people we’ve got to know at this year’s UnderWire. However, It was great to share pastries this morning at the Women in Film and Television breakfast which was a warm (and tasty) gathering of interesting and ambitious women. WFTV’s CEO Kate Kinnimont gave an emboldened and inspirational welcome to our filmmakers which rose a lot of hope and encouragement for everyone there (it’s no wonder they’ve been going for 22 years!). The morning was a great opportunity to ask people about their work, introduce them to one another, and already begin talking about what we’ll be doing next year with the festival.
One of the women at this morning’s breakfast was Caroline Burns Cooke, who wrote and starred in the experimental drama Myra which has screened in both our XX and Dream Drafters category (we loved it that much). On top of that, Caroline was one of our winners for the Film Journalism award and will be going on to write for Aesthetica Magazine after the festival. Here are her musings on last night’s programme.
The Underwire Field of Dreams (they built it, and we came…) - Caroline Burns Cooke
After a police incident at London Bridge and a too close-for-comfort encounter with a worse-for-wear gent on the 16 bus, I luxuriate in the thought that, safely home now in County Cricklewood, I have the lovely task of sitting in front of the screen, gratis bar of Divine (and indeed it is) chocolate by my side, pondering the joy that was day three of the warm, welcoming and diverse Underwire Festival of films featuring women in a central creative or technical role.
The beautifully named director’s category Celluloid Sculptures gave us a strong programme which included the excellently directed stop-motion animation Screwed Up; an urban nightmare bus trip in Treasa O’Brien’s N25; modern day fairy tale Rusalka; and three excellent dramas. I had the pleasure of seeing Lucy Patrick Wards’ New York based The Reward at Aesthetica Film Festival recently and loved it then. A witty, generous look at loss and the need for connection, the film is beautifully filmed and acted. Deborah Haywood’s Biatch was a wonderfully fresh look at teen rivalry and self image, rendered in day-glo shades until the world suddenly loses its brightness, and the final film, Christine Entwistle’s Our Ordered Lives was simply stunning. Great direction. Each shot, whether hand- held mayhem or painterly stillness, the visuals mirrored the lead characters’ emotional states. The narrative was pure yet shocking, performances pitch perfect, and its mother/daughter bond reduced me to tears. Wonderful.
Of the She Shoots, She Scores programme, honoring composers, I enjoyed Alex Harwoods’ Satie-esque accompaniment to a childlike animated tale of two kitties; Victoria Wijernatnes’ score for First Bite which gave a western-tinged High Noon feel to an urban coming of age drama; Justine Barkers’ haunting piano for the almost wordless French short Comes But Once a Year; and I won’t forget gulf-war veteran Steve Evet’s face underscored by that most melancholic instrument, the cello, in Katie Chatburns’ score for in Shrapnel.
The Looking Glass programme of top cinematography featured some fantastic experimental photography in the disturbing and intriguing Needle by Jessica Cheeseman; House was a great music video, all freaky angles and a mild case of surrealism; Maja Borgs’ work on the uplifting documentary Night Shift made poetry out of the intimidating Glasgow streets; and I loved everything about the wonderful Cake, shot brilliantly by Gabi Norland. Again, great angles (don’t know the technical terms, I confess), a true case of all elements coming together in the service of a beautifully acted and written story.
Only one more day left, film lovers! Workshops, awards and winning films screened night. When are you coming down, ladies and gents? Be there or be sadly missed.