Richard Catt on Blackwood Evil

When Allen asked me to write something on how it felt to have a film screened for the first time at a festival I really didn't think that I would be able to say much. Hell, it's just a screening, what's the big deal? Boy was I ever wrong! What follows is an account of terror akin to a combination of an IRS audit combined with your first sexual experience involving another human being.

ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Day one: Picking up our attendance package.

Being partners, my wife Peggy and I arrive at the assigned location (on time for a change) only to find that they are running late and the packages haven't arrived. Not wanting to go home and return later we decide to walk around town and make sure we are familiar with the layout of the area we will be in for the next three days. Not a problem, all of the venues, with the exception of one, are within walking distance. Returning, we pick up our package, get our badges, shake a few hands, smile a lot and return home. Cool, this is going to be easy.

On the drive home Peggy checks out the package. She finds a festival T-shirt, cup holder, program, schedule of events, all basic stuff and two white envelopes. Inside the envelopes she finds invitations to two private parties. One for John Saxon and one for John Waters. Panic begins to rise. I slow the car down and take a few deep breaths. This is not a problem, they are only people just like us. Very successful people that you only see associating with other very successful people but people none the less. We can do this. I pull the car back onto the road from where I had been driving down the shoulder and continue home with visions of fame flashing through my mind.

Day two: The first party and first screening.

Because there is only one invitation we don't know if we can both attend so it is decided that I will attend and meet Peggy later for the screening. I arrive at the location, an upscale art gallery. Once inside I realize that I am surrounded by items valued at about the same level as the national debt. Okay, don't touch anything, stay calm and for God's sake don't throw up. I find another guy that looks as out of place as I feel and introduce myself. He is a filmmaker from Nashville and will be screening his first short later that night. He is also a festival virgin so we hit it off. As we talk my fears begins to subside until we are invited to the bar area to meet Mr. Saxon. As we head toward the back of the gallery I keep repeating to myself, "Don't say anything stupid, don't say anything stupid".

Thankfully I'm only thinking this and not saying it out loud. I meet John, (He said "Call me John.", how cool is that?) we talk, I get a picture with him and an autograph. Then it happens, he asks about my film. John Saxon is asking me about my film. I tell him about it and he really seems interested. Suddenly I look around and we are standing there alone. John notices this as well and invites me to come with him to the buffet to get something to eat. I'm going to eat with John Saxon, this is just too damn cool. We get some food, I can't remember what it was now, and I begin to mingle with the crowd as John is pulled aside for more pictures. I head toward the back of the gallery to get another glass of wine, but before I get there I see Barry Corbin standing across the room talking to a small group of people. Feeling a little more confident, I very gracefully insert myself in the conversation. After a few minutes of polite noding and smiling I get a picture with Mr. Corbin and eject myself from the conversation before they realize that I know absolutely nothing about art.

As the party draws to a close I leave walking on cloud nine. Not only did I not make a fool of myself in front of Mr. Saxon or Mr. Corbin, I didn't break any of the expensive art and put myself in debt for life.

The time has come for the first screening. Peggy and our son Chris have joined me and after telling them all about the party we greet people outside the screening room. We have several friends in attendance so the panic level is currently in control. Suddenly someone comes up and tells us that our film has already started. There was a mix up and Blackwood is screening in another room. We run and find that we are already about 20 minutes into our film. Because of the mix up, several people that had come to see our film missed it, but those that did see it gave us a good review. We made contact with several other local filmmakers and exchanged business cards. The man that ran the projector told us that ours was the best film he had seen all day. We return home talking and laughing all the way. That night sleep doesn't come easy. Not only am I running over the events of the day in my mind, I am thinking about tomorrow. We will be out of the screening rooms and on the BIG SCREEN for the first time. I put my copy of "Tenebre" into the VCR and drift off to sleep just after John Saxon's death scene.

Day three: The big screen.

We arrive at the theater early. Several of our cast members are there along with friends and several people we met the day before. We retire to the bar area and wait for the screening to start. After a few beers and some small talk I have my panic once again under control. As the time for the screening draws near, a festival coordinator comes up and asks if I want to do the Question and Answer session before the screening or after. Question and Answer period, I didn't know I was going to have to answer questions. Once again panic begins to rise. It is decided that we will do it after. That way, anyone that hated it will have hopefully walked out in disgust.

As we enter the theater I realize that it is almost full. Most of the people from the previous screening are staying. We finally find seats all the way down in the front. As the house lights go down and our film begins my panic almost becomes unbearable. What if they don't like it, what if they don't like me, what if I pass out? As I ponder methods of painless suicide I look up at the screen and there it is. The opening scene of our movie, 25 feet high and looking back at me. As the film progresses I notice that the audience is reacting well. They laugh when it's funny, jump at the scary parts and gasp at the death scenes. Best of all, no one leaves. As the film ends there is a moment of silence followed by applause. I take my place at the front of the theater and face the audience. This is it, they really didn't like it, they only applauded out of courtesy, no one is going to ask a question other than "Why the hell did you make this piece of crap?" After 20 minutes of questions the festival coordinator says that we have to stop and get ready for the next film. As I leave the theater I can only think to myself "They liked it, they really liked it!" In the lobby we hear things like, "10 times better than Blair Witch" and "It's the first movie that really scared me in years". As we head back to town to attend a reception for John Waters we are back on cloud nine. Actually it's the penthouse just above cloud nine that's reserved for the really excited people.

At the reception we get to meet John Waters and get pictures and an autograph. As we mingle with the crowd we were approached by strangers that want to tell us how much they enjoyed our film or that they missed it but have heard a lot about it. We meet more filmmakers, exchange business cards and take pictures. As we enter the theater for the screening of John Waters' film "Pink Flamingos" we are in for one more surprise. While the Ft. Worth Film Festival is non-competitive, they do give out some prizes based on the opinion of the festival jury. To our shock and joy, Blackwood Evil has been picked as one of the top three films in the festival. As the house lights go down and the movie begins I can only think that this has been possibly the most exciting three days of my life. To know that something you have created is enjoyed and appreciated by others is a high like none I have ever experienced.

In closing I would like to share what was the most moving moment of the entire festival for me. As we were leaving the theater on the last day the man that worked the projector at our first screening came up to us and said something that I will remember until the day I die. He shook my hand and said, "Watching your film has given me the incentive to pursue my goal of making my own film." That is the ultimate praise that anyone could ever receive.

Richard Catt
Cattskill Productions
Blackwood Evil