Sunday meant no movies for me, this unbecoming stain on my moviegoer’s cv being due on one hand to the coming of some friends of mine (who preferred sunbathing at the svetilnik to screenings) and on the other to the abovementioned football match. So, a few words about the latter.
Solved not without worry the problem of finding a ball, at 4 pm we found ourselves on the field by the Gasilski Dom. On one side the Blu-Rays (staff members + Innsbruck guests), in impeccable festival’s pale blue shirts; on the other the Golden Boys (directors + other staff members), in casual clothes – I was dressed to kick, being allowed for the 1st time to wear my Athletic Bilbao’s lion-representing centennial t-shirt. Aficionados who came looking for Mohammed’s talent and Vlado’s magics weren’t disappointed by the GBs’ orchestra leaders, although the honor of entering the scorers’ list went to mr. C.W. Winter and the writer. Among the BRs there were great expectations on mr. Leitner, usually a very tough opponent: but, in his attempt to repeat the exploit performed in 2005 by Lisandro Alonso – who had been able to party veeeeery much on the previous night and then, some hours later, to score two decisive goals on the pitch – the Tyrolean ace stopped halfway. Therefore the Brs hopes had to rely mostly on Piera’s shoulders: but despite a great performance and a goal by the redheaded forward (my pick as MVP), it proved to be not enough. So, GBs 4 – BRs 1 and off we went, back to our cinema-related duties.
I must confess that, after having placed some chairs in Manzioli, I skipped the closing ceremony too. To get to know about Taxiphone’s victory I had to wait for the beach party, when I eventually made the acquaintance of Mai Tai, the cocktail drunken by Contact High’s protagonists in a scene of the movie (thanks for the suggestion, mr. Glawogger).
And then the night went on, talking & drinking & dancing ‘til the moment when, as in the best fairy tales, the police came by to stop the music. Bedtime, both my pard Luciano and me thought. Thus that was the end, for us, of Kino Otok 6.
In the end, were I to say one final sentence about this festival, made by people who are wise enough to take cinema very seriously and themselves not so seriously, I would paraphrase what J.D. Salinger makes Holden Caufield say about books: "What really knocks me out is a festival that, when you're all done experiencing it, you wish the people that organized it were terrific friends of yours and you could call them up on the phone whenever you felt like it."
Luckily enough, I have many staff members’ phone numbers…