Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney

Various disasters

Firstly, there is snow. I hate snow, even before it makes me fall down. There is snow and I have to go out in it. That is all. So don't expect me to be all happy smiley about snow. In April.

Secondly, my e-mail cancelling the San Francisco panel bounced and I didn't notice - somehow it ended up in my spam bin. My apologies to all concerned especially the lovely debg who had gone to the trouble of fixing it up before I realized I could not afford the West Coast and who is left with a bad situation.

Thirdly, I got harrassed on the bus yesterday by a drunk who picked up on the lower notes in my phone voice. He started jabbing at me and threatening violence and sexual assault, so I stood up, used the officer class voice, marched to the front of the bus and demanded that the driver put him off at the next stop. Because I made it about politeness and drunkenness, I got the support of almost everybody else on the bus except for one barrack-room lawyer guy who thought the driver should have got his side of it. As I pointed out to BRL, all very well, but drunk and abusive doesn't have a side; the drunk did not want to get off, but a couple of the other passengers persuaded him that they did not want to be stuck waiting for the police to arrest him. paratti caught much of this on the phone, which must have been moderately scary.

Fourthly, I walked out of a film because it was boring the crap out of me. Viva is a technically brilliant re-creation of 70s exploitation cinema, which gets everything right from clothes to hair to dodgy technicolour to the gay hairdresser's theatrical laughter to the heroine's pout. Anna Biller who directs and stars has done a fairly impressive job on all of this - but somehow once I had seen an hour or so of it, I wanted no more and knew there was an hour to go. It needed to be less subtle, less faithful and considerably more amusing.

The various transgender shorts were good, as was the discussion about trans-representation, up to a point. I very much liked Calpurnia Adams' Casting Pearls which is an embarrassing catalogue of stupid things said by casting directors; Godspeed was a quietly witty noir about a transman bike messenger seriously fucking up.

I will post my thoughts about the discussion later.
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