Schools at the Festival

by Anisha Dwarka

Oblivious. This word had very little connection to me until I had come to watch Turning Red in the Castro Theatre on April 27th, 2022. For two years, I had been watching movies in my living room. It was an interesting experience as I look back on it. The movies that I had gotten to watch at home were beautiful pieces of art, but not until recently did I realize that watching a movie in your house is completely different from watching a movie in a theatre. Now you might be thinking how can they be different? It’s just the setting, but that’s just it. It’s like listening to music. All songs are unique. You’ve got happy, sad, relaxed, tense, and the list goes on. Yet, when you place those different songs in the appropriate setting, you can feel more emotion and connection. What do I mean by appropriate setting? I mean the place that means something to you. It’s the place that helps make the song special to you. When those associations occur it becomes a memory you can remember vividly and that is exactly how it felt to return to the Castro Theatre. Once I sat in the red theatre seats, this sort of longing inside of me was gone. Everything felt complete after the movie ended. As someone who makes films, listening to people react the same way as yourself was reviving. When you come to watch a movie at a theatre you usually come with someone who has something in common with you. They share the same desire as you, yet you also sit with strangers of varying ages and backgrounds sharing this desire. You sit on this emotional rollercoaster, with someone so alike yet so different from you, and at the end of that rollercoaster, there is a memory waiting at the exit. I think this is the beauty of watching a film in a theatre. Whilst this pandemic brought new lots of adaptation, I think something that changed my life was innovation and creativity. When watching movies at home, I had to create the ambiance. I had to dim the lights. I had to pop the popcorn. I had to organize the couch I sat on. This process was something I will never forget and will become more and more special as time passes by. We come into movie theaters ready to experience, but there is a process behind that experience. Over my quarantine pandemic days, I learned how to replicate a feeling I couldn’t access at the time. It might not have been perfect looking back, yet it was perfect at the moment.

by Jayna Dighe

In past history classes, I’ve read impactful stories about Martin Luther King Jr., Rosa Parks, and John Lewis that have inspired me and caused me to appreciate the extent of what the leaders of the Civil Rights Movement have done for me as a young minority in America. The Black Panther party was always mentioned in my textbooks, but more in passing than in detail. They were described as acting in ways opposite of MLK’s teachings, violent and harsh in comparison to MLK’s nonviolent ways. I always imagined the Black Panthers tearing through the streets of Oakland, burning buildings and starting riots. I never gave second thought to this portrayal until I attended the SFFILM program American Justice on Trial + For Love and Legacy. This program was about Huey P. Newton, one of the leaders and founders of the Blank Panther party who was wrongfully convicted of first degree murder, which completely changed my perspective. After watching these two impactful films, I learned that the Black Panther party was more than just a group of angry people with guns. They were brave and fought hard for their rights just like MLK. They believed in their right to be able to defend themselves, which didn’t necessarily translate to constant violence and shootings. Through Huey’s trial, he exposed the injustice in the American court system. This trial was monumental, because the jury was led by the first black foreman ever to serve on a major murder trial. Huey strove to educate Americans about the history of injustice in the United States and to push for equality in the legal system. I also learned from Huey’s wife, as she recalled Huey’s immense strength in the face of extreme hardships and as she worked to ensure that he was remembered by his community. When I walked out of the theater, the main question that flooded my brain was this: Why didn’t I know about Huey before? Why do most people have a flawed idea of the Black Panther party? Why are MLK and Rosa Parks common names in history books but not Huey P. Newton? Even though the Black Panther party originated far from all the protests going on in Selma and Washington, D.C, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t as important or impactful. The Black Panthers should be remembered for their part of the Civil Rights Movement. I wonder what other historical stories are hidden or misremembered. These documentaries have demonstrated to me that what is written in history books is not necessarily the whole picture. In future classes, I will strive to ask more questions and do my own research about the other sides to historical narratives so that I can gain a better understanding of past events that shape the future of our country and our world.

by Maggie O’Shea

One foot after the other, curious steps. The bad side of town, air hot and still, corroded metal, smashed bonnets of cars. The sour, pungent smell of bleach, open windows thick with oil, wax and dust, plated with textured glass. Minutes elapsed, bars of billowing smoke from a lit cigarette on the floor. And then, instantly before us, was a theater. That day, I was definitely not interested in anything to do with storytelling, more engaged in my phone or video games. As soon as I saw the curved red arc, people gathering under it and stamping tickets, the warm, buttery smell of popcorn wafting through the two doors, I blinked, attention igniting. We got stamps on our hands and walked through to a black room, lights dimmed and families chattering. As soon as we sat, a voice began speaking and I couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.

William Joyce was an extremely inspirational speaker. Throughout his teachings, I never knew how much time and effort it took to produce a short film, simply aware of the outcome. The second film he presented was introduced much like the first, until I understood the concept that he explained. “The Numberlys” was something that resonated so much with me, the feelings deep in my heart. Growing up, I had many friends and connections. Yet, throughout middle school, everything was new. I felt different, but not necessarily older. Everyone surrounding me wore certain clothes, had styled hair, and carried the same backpacks wearing similar jewelry. All of a sudden, it wasn’t about who you were anymore. It was about what you possessed, and then how others interpreted it. I felt like an outcast, not nearly what I used to be. Everyone was accepted and could present their passions and interests easily before, but here, the people were terrifying, and I had no idea how they would see me.

The Numberlys experienced something similar. Every number was the same, with no invention or idea of uniqueness. Understanding how they went about their day with not only law and order, but similarity, took a great deal of self comprehension. I felt as though I could connect with these poor numbers, stomping through everyday life in black and white. Gradually, the longer I stayed at school, the more I shifted. Suddenly, I stuck out. And each day, I was influenced to become like others. I accepted that in order to fit in, I had to show that I knew how to. I had friends, but that ongoing comparison towards others, especially as “groups” started to settle in, was soul crushing. Everyone was alike, and I didn’t like it. My favorite pair of jeans sat still in the back of my closet, replaced by black leggings that the others wore. Being compared to others is genuinely the only thing that ever truly crushed me.

So, when the Numberlys were introduced, I felt my body stand still, attention switched from my popcorn to the large screen. The film began as black and white, just like how I remembered my middle school experience. As the Numberlys delved into uniqueness and the act of being different, color began to approach. This resonates with me as my new-found high school experience. The comparison didn’t fade, but I understood that I had to show who I truly was and gain acceptance from myself, not anyone else. Fitting in was a difficult thing to do in the past and it brought out the worst in me. By constantly conforming, the Numberlys never found peace and contentment, instead, it was a lifetime struggle of being alike. I really felt this, as if I was putting a mask on who I was inside. Conformity is a very dangerous thing, it tackles your persona and who you project. It was as if I couldn’t create my own perceptions of myself, my senses were blurred and I could only use others’ assumptions or opinions as building blocks for my personality. I slowly faded into what society wanted me to be, similar to the Numberlys. While they did share a number with several other Numberlys, they couldn’t show each other who they really were inside, until the conformity was obliterated and a new standard fell into place.

Often, I find myself still lacking the color that Numberlys experienced at the end of the film, but I never fail to remember that the black and white is the easy option. Everyone can be like anyone else. But the color, that’s the part that can fulfill what I want and truly make me happy as a person who recognizes their own self-worth. Accepting myself is part of a journey that will lead me from black and white to new colors, and then happiness.

by Marviel Mateo

Amidst the darkness, the brilliant screen demanded my attention and succeeded in capturing my sight. Fully immersed in the movie, it was as though nothing else had mattered.
I had always been a lover of the arts. From a young age, I have spent hours dancing, engaging in musical pursuits, painting, reading, and writing. Through these, I have created different worlds, met characters impossible to forget, and led a multitude of lives within the pages of various books. The arts are my catharsis—my escape from the dull, monotonous reality.

And Gagarine was nothing short of beautiful. From its vivid, hyperrealistic scenes, to its characters and its storyline, Gagarine sublimely encapsulates the complexities of life, love, brotherhood, humanity, and community amidst poverty, racism, abandonment and neglect— all while defying tradition. It is poignant, original, political, and hypnotic yet simultaneously real.

To further add onto the magic, one of the directors and co-writer of the film, Fanny Liatard joined the audience through a Zoom call. Through their words, I was able to learn more about the years-long process of writing, filming, and directing, as well as gain insight into their real-life inspiration behind the film.
I have come to admire and appreciate their efforts to create this masterpiece, and I look up to both of the directors for their skill and dedication to creating well-rounded, unapologetically human characters, and a beautiful, immersive storyline that is both profoundly surreal yet absurdly raw, visceral, and realistic. I admire, too, how the film embraces ambiguity and is open-ended, demonstrating that it is not confined to determining a singular, certain path with regards to the characters’ fate. As for the characters, I am fond of the fact that they, too, are confronted with relatable struggles and are inspired by an underprivileged group of people, which ultimately showcases their struggles and brings awareness to their rarely acknowledged existence.

As an artist, this entire experience inspired me to create whatever I desire, however I please. As a woman and a person of color, it affirmed that my existence and my ideas are not inferior to those of anyone else. Finally, as an immigrant who had known intimately what it was like to live in poverty, it made me realize that my experiences, my story and history are equally valid and beautiful as everyone else’s. Thanks to this film, I am empowered to move on, to create art without any restrictions or any preconceived notions of what art should look like— of what art should be. In the future, I look forward to creating something that is as unapologetic, heartrending, and blissfully stunning as Gagarine. And with further development, I hope that through my work, I will soon be able to encapsulate the complexities of this ever-evolving, multifaceted world.

by Rover Dijkstra

After not having seen a movie in a theater for almost 4 years, it was really exciting to attend the SFFILM film festival at the Castro theater to watch Zero Gravity with my media class.

Zero Gravity is a film about middle school students in San Jose who enter a coding contest held by NASA. As I listened to the dramatic music while Carol and her teammates struggled and overcame problems in their code, losses in the competition, and personal problems, I thought back to the similar experiences I had in my school’s student government over the 3 years I was part of it, and how much I have learned. In the documentary, Carol and her friends lose against another team but picked themselves up again to help that team throughout the rest of the competition. This reminded me of the many times when I lost student government elections, but kept going, and joined forces with the people that beat me to improve our school.

The documentary reminded me that you should never give up because you will find a way to succeed and continue, even if things don’t go the way you had hoped. If the team in Zero Gravity had given up after they lost the competition, they would never have seen their code make it into space. And if I had given up after my first loss (or second or third), I wouldn’t be in the position I am today either, helping the school, learning new skills, and making new friends. Like Zero Gravity showed, the power of cooperation and teamwork can make even the largest leaps possible. Without everyone bringing in their own perspectives, their code might have lacked major parts and could have failed. In my experience, we usually get better ideas when we have many different voices.

Finally, the documentary also brought back memories of our old supervisor. They led us through the years and made sure that we could continue to thrive, even when our leaders left the school and new people joined. They provided us with a safe space to do what we wanted and try new things, just like Tanner did in the documentary.