All week, columnists Sebastian Torrelio and Tony Huang attended AFI Fest, the annual film festival held by the American Film Institute at the Chinese Theater in Hollywood. The festival is a hub for directors from around the world to come and showcase their movies: some as the next piece in the long line of a famous filmmaker’s work, some as new selections chosen particularly by the festival’s programming staff.

Torrelio and Huang engaged in the full experience, attending as many films as they could at the venue, reviewing them daily over the last week. On a special Love|Hate column, they both reflect on their experiences, recalling the ups and very little downs of one of the largest film events in the L.A. area.

BY SEBASTIAN TORRELIO
A&E; senior staff
storrelio@media.ucla.edu

I’m not entirely sure what I expected, but I can’t exactly say that I saw a poor film at the festival – I don’t even believe that I saw a film that I disliked. I can mark the low points easily: “The Congress,” a psychedelic half-live action, half-animated trip of film history and human aspirations, and “Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom,” a drawn-out, relatively unexciting portrayal of a world leader, despite Idris Elba’s accurate performance as Mandela. Yet even both of these films, highly anticipated and hyped, were good enough to warrant seeing.

Spending day in and day out of the theater for the past few days has been an enlightening experience of world culture and raw entertainment. I was able to see indie films so avant-garde that they will likely never receive a decent theater distribution, but were able to pack a theater in Hollywood for two screenings over the week with delighted fans and critics.

My own highlights of the festival were not entirely expected, a variety of films that encompass many genres and conventions, but reimagine them in exciting, often incredible ways. Take “Jodorowsky’s Dune,” a documentary about an insane director whose journey to make the greatest film in history failed, although his dream’s legacy continues to live on. Or “Philomena,” a drama that evokes so much heart and comedy through its script that it’s hard not to smile during even the toughest scenes.

These films defied my expectations to great lengths, as did many others. Georgia’s “In Bloom,” Chile’s “Gloria,” France’s “The Past” and Japan’s “The Wind Rises” are all touching depictions of foreign filmmakers at their finest. And yet, my favorite part of the festival was probably the audience – moviegoers who, with the help of the American Film Institute and its sponsors, were able to attend the festival for free.

Every member of the audience experienced the wonders of the today’s best cinema firsthand, excited to see films they had heard of, or not heard of, and many introduced by cast and crew that were as excited as they were. There’s nothing that could have made the week better.

BY TONY HUANG
A&E; contributor
thuang@media.ucla.edu

I was surprised and somewhat perplexed by the people who actually go to the AFI Film Festival. I watch my fair share of underground, indie and foreign movies, and based on my experiences watching those films in theaters, I would never have expected a packed house for Romanian metafilm “When Evening Falls on Bucharest or Metabolism.” But time and time again – to some annoyance – people filled up these movies I thought were niche enough to be negligible.

Case in point, my favorite film of the festival, a very impressive, sexually provocative French film called “Stranger by the Lake” filled the decently huge Chinese Theater 1 all the way up with audience members. And even better, a sizable amount of the audience caught on to its grim humor and its perverse thrills, all the way up to its haunting conclusion.

Most of my favorite films of the festival, in fact, were astonishingly well received. Korean director Hong Sang-Soo’s “Our Sunhi” was received by an audience with a strong grasp of his humor. Amat Escalante’s “Heli,” whose violent reputation terrifies even me, was received with real enthusiasm by yet another surprisingly packed house. “The Strange Little Cat,” a basically plotless reverie on small domestic disturbances, was given the goodwill of its viewers as well. “Nebraska,” which I loved, also had a willing audience, though I think they saw comedy where I saw tragedy, so I omit that example.

Anyway, I learned not to underestimate L.A. film folk – and with so many good films, why would I not want people to share in my joy? In fact, my only complaint about the whole festival is that I wanted it to feature more films – stuff like James Gray’s “The Immigrant” or Tsai Ming-Liang’s “Stray Dogs.” But as far as cultural feasts go, missing out on some hors d’oeuvres hardly detracts from the main course – the AFI Fest was the highlight of my year in cinema.

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