My first Berlinale

Being somewhat of a film fan, I thought that attending a festival would be one of the ultimate in cinephilic acts (besides making my own movie, of course). The ones in Cannes and Venice are both private, and though I lived in close proximity for many years, I had never made to Telluride or Sundance. Nor did I make to San Sebastian last year, having arrived in Spain only few a days after the festival closed. So when a chance to spend a long weekend at one of what the International Federation of Film Producers Associations calls an "A festival"--and one of the only "name" ones open to the public--I jumped right in.

And why not? I've been fortunate enough to have visited Berlin a few times, and I obviously wouldn't return if I didn't have any good experiences. I admit, it's precisely because I come as a tourist that I have a "good time," that the city retains its romance. I don't pretend to "know" Berlin, nor expect it to be representative of Germany, but I nevertheless enjoy wandering its streets, watching its people, soaking up its history and culture, its constant reinvention, and simply put, just being there. In other words, Berlin is a place where I don't mind being alone (though I like it quite a lot that it's a pity not to experience it with others).

Berlin is apparently also a fantastic place to see movies, and not just for Berlinale, although this was the primary reason for my recent visit. On my way to Loos Ornamental, a documentary about the Austrian architect Adolf Loos, I passed by a score of paparazzi.

"GAEELLLLLLLLLLLLL!"
"NATTTTTTTTALLLLLIIEEEEEEEE!"
"SCCCCCCARRRRRRLLLLLLLLLLLETTTTT!"

Nothing registered until I saw Eric Bana signing a few autographs.

I settled into my incredibly plush chair at one of the CineStar rooms in Potsdamer Platz's Sony Center and felt my heart beat faster as the curtains rose and the familiar Berlinale bear appeared on the screen to introduce the documentary. I would spend most of the day in the same complex, with two more movies, and a break in between, to grab a bite across the way at the Arkaden.

On Saturday, I chose to see only one movie, in order not to strain my eyes for the whopper--five movies--on Sunday. The nerdy me checked out the weather prior to leaving Madrid, and as it forecasted sunny, I preferred to spend the rest of the day outside. Part of the new German cinema program, Die Dinge zwischen uns, was about a more-or-less straight-laced woman who goes to great lengths to preserve her "normalcy," and turned out to more enjoyable than I thought. Again, another very comfortable screening in a yet another plush chair--this time, mint green, with matching curtains for the screen.

It was still quite early when I left the theater, so I took a quick jaunt down Schoenhauser Allee and onto some side street trying to find this bag shop with the innovative concept of removable flaps. The square it looked on to was busy with children, the surrounding cafes and shops full of buzz and smells of late lunches wafting from windows, a moment where I wished a friend or two were with me.

I wished the same thing later that night, waiting at the Lido in Kreuzberg for a show to start. With no one to talk to, I killed time with my iPod, making a waiting room tracklist of sorts; luckily, there were only five before the masses were called into the main room. More dance songs and scores of people jammed into a very tight space, very good-looking, very tall people, many, many well-dressed women. We were all waiting for the main act, who proved to be quite charming, quite pleasant and entertained the crowd with not one, but THREE encore acts, the last two solo. After a fourth request, he graciously thanked the crowd once more, but apologized that he wouldn't unable to fulfill it, lest he passed out. We understood and slowly dispersed.

Sunday, my last day, was my big cinema day. The only available screening of Be Kind Rewind, the new Michel Gondry, was at 10:30, and since I was so excited to see it, I woke up two hours too early. I took the opportunity to once again wander up and down Mitte, peering into shop windows and taking a few photographs when I could. I wasn't too worried about getting to the Berlinale Palast, where the movie was being screened, as there were assigned seats. Mine was great, a center seat in one of the central rows, and as I would find out later, in the pit.

Unfortunately, Be Kind Rewind was the only movie for which I was awake throughout its duration. I nodded off here and there during the following three movies, and didn't even make it to the last one because I knew I'd be too sleepy and tired for the 20-minute U-bahn ride back to the hostel. Before I even realized that Zou You, about a divorced couple who need to procreate in order to help their sick child, had German--and not English--subtitles, I was already aching to crawl into bed.

Lessons learned, probably common sense, in random order:
- Try to buy tickets online for "priority" movies.
Online sales are limited. So, by the time I got to Berlin to get a ticket for any screening of the The Other Boleyn Girl, nothing was available. Scheiße.

- Discounts rule.
Sunday was designated Kinotag--spectator day--for any movie, at any theater. Therefore, reduced price. Also half-off for students and seniors for same-day shows. Although I'm technically no longer a student, I still could've purchased Friday's tickets for 3,-eur/each instead of paying full price, if only my estudiante NIE was on me, and not at the hostel!

- Try to space out shows.
For one of the screenings, I sat in the aisle seat, near the entrance. I timed the U-bahn ride from Potsdamer Platz to Alexanderplatz to take between 15-20 minutes, but I was sure cutting it close from the Wolfgang Tillmans documentary, ending at 2:30 and Sweet Food City starting at 3:00. Also: no more than three movies a day, if I can do it.

The main point: plan better. And had my schedule allowed it--that is, if I had no work obligations--I would've attended the festival during it's two-and-a-half week entirety. I would have a wider selection of movies, screenings, and probably wouldn't fall asleep. Oh well; there's always next year.




(Image: Cinema Without Borders)