Sunday was supposed to be a day of sports and soldiers. I was planning on seeing a documentary called Facing Ali, a feature film about soldiers called The Messenger, and another documentary called Warrior Champions, which showcases some severely wounded veterans competing in the Paraolympic Games in Beijing in 2008. Instead, Sunday was a day of sports and scene kids.

Facing Ali

My day began again at the Alamo Drafthouse Ritz. Those Alamojitos make it easy to find myself at this place about three times a day.

It’s no secret that boxing is my favorite sport. It’s also no secret that Muhammad Ali is my favorite (non-fictional) sports figure. So, for me, this otherwise minor documentary turned into one of the festival highlights thus far. Lionsgate Films and Spike TV present this great documentary about Muhammad Ali, told from the vantage point of his opponents. In Facing Ali, there’s certainly a historical picture of Ali, and some reflections of his greatest bouts. For Ali enthusiasts, there’s plenty here. Archival footage mixed with a two-camera set-up interview system, and several Ali quotes flash across the screen during beats.

More interesting to me, however, is the boxers themselves. Some of the names include Joe Frazier, Leon Spinks, Ernie Terrell, Earnie Shavers, George Foreman, George Chuvalo, and Ron Lyle. These greats have their own stories, and Facing Ali provides a venue for these athletes to showcase that. We learn about Chuvalo’s personal and family struggles, and we see Lyle working in a soup kitchen. Norton and Shavers damn near steals the show, and Cooper’s soft accent (he was a British Empire Champ) and quick wit make for several huge laughs. We hear Foreman talk about his conversion to Christianity amidst a conversation about Ali’s conversion to Nation of Islam. And don’t forget the fights. We hear about the fights. The doc covers issues of race, religion, war, friendship, family, fights, and even the Phantom Punch — and it makes all boxers look like champs.

It’s not hard to get me to like a documentary, and it’s really not hard to get to me like one about boxing. I knew I was going to love it coming in, so my A-triple-plus rating might be a little skewed. Besides for Frazier (and a few others, including Ron Lyle) being subtitled (it comes off as a bit rude, and is entirely unnecessary for boxing enthusiasts — though, perhaps understandable for those who aren’t accustomed to retired-fighter-slur), this film is a first-round knock-out.

Interesting factoid: The live-wire fighter George Chuvalo was Stallone’s inspiration for the first Rocky. He fought 90-some-odd times, and was never knocked out. Ali beat the crap out of him, but didn’t knock him out (to quote my dad). Rocky mirrors Chuvalo, and Apollo obviously borrows from Ali.

Bait and Switch

Next up, I snuck in the back of The Messenger at the Paramount. The filmmakers were stuck in a famous Austin traffic jam, and couldn’t get there on time to announce the film at 7PM, so a full theater was delayed. Woody Harrelson, portraying a sent-home injured soldier whose new post includes notifying families of military casualties, was also supposed to be in attendance. Judging from the party last night, and from some whispers about his behavior at the press day (nothing shocking, just Woody being Woody), I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a bit late, too. Either way, I met a few folks and ducked out before the show at my editor’s suggestion — heading back down Sixth Street to the Alamo Drafthouse Ritz.

I had a few minutes, and figured I could talk my way to the front of the line (I always do), so I stalled in front of an open-air blues bar where a really great Son House cover was underway. Finally, I made it back to the Ritz where, seated next to those oh-so-gravy Slackerwood gals and FSR Editor Neil Miller, I settled in for The Scenesters.

The Scenesters

Introduced by Todd Berger its director and one of the stars, The Scenesters has so far been a festival favorite. But I didn’t see it. What could have easily been a pretty cool indie noir murder mystery/serial killer flick was more of a lesson in what precisely the filmmakers want me to know that they know about filmmaking. While moving between the courtroom and flashbacks of an unfolding mystery about a series of similar murders could have worked fine, the amount of internal commentary about the film during the film was almost intolerable.

I understand the gimmick (the film itself knowing that it’s a film), and there’s a way to do it that it would have worked — but the Vacationeers (the troupe that made the flick) ultimately fail. It’s okay to be meta, and to be excited about filmmaking, and to showcase that in your film — but the ultra-bourgeois and incessantly meta gets old, fast. I was constantly taken out of the story — or the story about the film that has to do with the murder mystery — because of the near compulsory eye-rolling that comes with someone telling you what they know about art instead of just making it. The audience completely ate it up — and there are a few really great laughs (none of which are accomplished by the filler commentary about film, all of which come from smartly written dialogue that has to do with the actual mystery), but, on top of laboring through the graduate school level filmmaking commentary, I found the mystery’s endgame to be weak.

Several Alamojitos and a $5 shake couldn’t even make it worth skipping both The Messenger and Warrior Champions. I was audibly upset, bitching to anyone who would listen on the Reject HQ Party Bus, and arrived back at Reject HQ ready to vent. Instead, I found Reject Radio in medias res and several wonderful people and fellow film journos partying inside and out. Talking, laughing, broadcasting, screeening: this was more my scene.

The problem with getting robbed in Houston a few weeks ago is that your sunglasses get robbed, too. There are other problems, sure, but when you wake up in a badgeholder’s line at the Alamo Drafthouse Ritz at noon on a Saturday with a bunch of friendly people trying to shake hands, it’s hard to fake like you’re blind. Faced with this problem, I did what any fake blind person would do: I made friends.

An Education

By now, you’re probably sick of hearing about An Education. Too bad. I saw it yesterday, and I liked it. It’s a beautiful movie with great performances, and it’s hard not to fall in love with this film. While I’ll cover it deeper in my Monday sex column, for now I’ll say that, even though the story unfolds pretty predictably, it is the the interestingly-named Lone Sherfig’s direction and supporting performances that make this film. Peter Sarsgaard and Audrey Hepburnesque Carey Mulligan are intimate, vulnerable, charming — but Olivia Williams and Alfred Molina (and, of course, the ever-so-smashing Emma Thompson) absolutely steal every scene that they’re in. Mulligan is good, but she would be lacking without Sarsgaard’s gentle prompting, Molina’s grumpy outbreaks, and the wise, frank discussions of her schoolmarms. Also deserving of praise is the makeup and wardrobe department (and, again, Sherfig) — there are moments when we are convinced the young schoolgirl is emotionally competent, male-savvy, and all grown up, and other times where she, appropriately and simply, looks like a made-up doll.

Afterwards, I head again to the old-fashioned Driskill Hotel, where the fatigue of the volunteers is beginning to show. Pointed in the wrong direction several times, and unaware of a room change, I slipped into a Battlestar Galactica: Caprica panel a few minutes late. Breathless and settling in next to a kind SyFy rep, a truly remarkable afternoon and evening of science (fiction and non) begins.

Caprica Panel

Esai Morales (Joseph Adams/Adama) and pilot director Jeff Reiner (Friday Night Lights) spoke intimately with a tiny crowd of BSG fans, as well as a few members of the press (including me). While a more comprehensive write-up is in the works (a lot of great things were said), this was a fun and educational moment with these guys. We talked about the pilot, about the BSG universe, about how to balance using derivations of the series while maintaining originality. A shy, contemplative Jeff Reiner spoke succinctly and intelligently about three-camera setups, monotheism vs. polytheism, and the like. It was certainly enough to make me at least somewhat care about Caprica. So far I’ve been losing that battle.

After a nice hour, and some great material, I took a moment and a telephone call out on one of the Driskill’s balconies. It was lovely, and fun to see the hustle and bustle of downtown Austin for at least a few minutes. After flirting with the idea of going to a Roberto Orci panel, I decided instead to head over to the lovely vaudevillian Paramount for a storytelling session with Ron Howard, Steve Zaillian, and Mitch Hurwitz.

The Art of Storytelling

You heard it hear first: Arrested Development creator Mitchell Hurwitz thinks that the “lobster aliens” from District 9 sound delicious. I settled in for an hour of laughs and lessons — just a candid conversation, really — with these three men. Ron Howard talked Happy Days, The Andy Griffith Show, and Apollo 13. He’s a nice guy — earlier in the week fraternizing with the unwashed masses at a good ol’ Texas BBQ — and he tells some funny stories. Most people seem interested in Hurwitz’s talks about the Arrested Development Movie, but I’m interested in a quiet, brooding Steve Zaillian. He has little to say, but he’s jam-packed with knowledge and clearly an artist. Wishing I’d heard more about Schindler’s List and Don Knotts, I’ve got to go. I’m late for a date at Hickory Street.

Apollo 13

After dinner, FSR Executive Editor Neil Miller and I head back to the Paramount for a special screening of Ron Howard’s Apollo 13. And I do mean special. Captain Jim Lovell — in great humor, and sporting a tie that looked like the surface of the moon — is in attendance, as well as Ron Howard, Clint Howard, the screenwriters, and several members of the original NASA flight crew that lived through Apollo 13. Ron Howard introduces the movie, Neil (a huge space nerd) is gripping the chair arms with excitement.

We watch several minutes of previously unseen mission footage, which was breathtaking and more compelling than any movie could be. We see the crew’s broadcast and learn that, 8 minutes later, the explosion occurred. It’s an emotional moment. We see them get home safely, we see lots of NASA footage, too. All in all, a great short documentary.

Apollo 13 stands up really, really well. It’s such a great movie, and it was exciting seeing it on the big screen again. Someone should fire the projectionist at the Paramount.

Afterward, we listen to a panel featuring Ron & Clint Howard, Bill Broyle, Jr. and Al Reinart, original mission control members Jerry Bostick, Sy Leibergot, John Aaron, and Lovell himself. Multiple nerdgasms. Probably one of the most amazing nights of my life. And back to the Alamo.

Caprica

A crowd of nerds has gathered for a late-night screening of the 95 minute Caprica pilot with a Drafthouse founder Tim League-hosted Q&A with Morales and Reiner afterward. I settle in amongst friends and fellow geeks, and once again watch Caprica, this time on the big screen, and not at home. Margaritas, macaroni, and my people. I love the Drafthouse. Morales and Reiner were obviously tired, and I’d gotten all my material earlier in the day. Most memorable about the Q&A was Tim’s CHAOS REIGNS t-shirt.

Hearing that the closing party is overcrowded and overloud, Neil and I decide to skip in favor of other locations, and he’s once again driving the Reject HQ Party Bus. It’s a beautiful night in downtown Austin. My day at the Science Fair is over, and a rousing success. Tomorrow (Sunday) will focus on sports and soldiers.

Today is my first official day as on-the-ground geek press. I’ve never covered a film festival before, and now I’m part of FSR’s eyes and ears at this prestigious, exciting fest. I’m nervous.

Getting There

I woke up extremely late. Embarrassingly late. I had all of these plans to get my badge, hobknob for hours in the beautiful, 19th century Driskill Hotel. I had visions of invites to secret special parties and panels that no one else gets to see. But, instead, I’m towel-drying my hair and sticking my toes out my window to see if I need a jacket. Let’s roll.

Thanks to my editor, I read Slackerwood’s Guide to the Austin Film Festival. It would be massively helpful, I think. If I could read. I also found some random girl named Shawna’s rules for surviving AFF. I like her #4. She’s got spunk.

After screening student short films at Reject HQ, I am finally ready to retrieve my badge and begin my official coverage of AFF. Here goes nothin’.

Being There

Shit. Traffic. I’ve already missed my chance to see Serious Moonlight. I had big plans to charm the pants off of Cheryl Hines. Ten minutes and two miles later, and I realize that I’m not even going to make the psychedelic music doc Cowtown Ballroom…Sweet Jesus. But when I arrive at the Driskill, I immediately forget all of these problems. I have stepped into the glory days of the Old West. There’s beautiful architecture, Tiffany lighting, ballrooms. This place is beautiful. They do not offer hourly rates.

Geek Press

As I check in, I am treated like the semi-famous geek that I am. They took my picture! (Sure, it was because I’d slacked off and not submitted one prior to the festival so they had to print my badge on the fly, but whatever. Semantics.) I get my Producer’s Badge, which guarantees me admission to any movie, and gains me access to all the VIP parties. Also I get an AFF bag of swag. I am only interested in the Tootsie Roll.

Pleased with the smooth check-in process and kind folks working the place, I start to wander around. Some no-account creeper corners me about The Scenesters. He tells me it’s a noir tale. I think he’s talking about Precious, and am highly confused. FSR’s Executive Editor Neil Miller saves me from a sure demise. I am out of Tootsie Rolls.

Iron Cactus

Leaving the Driskill, we walk up and down Austin’s famous aisle of sin-n-fun, 6th Street, and decide to have dinner and drinks at Iron Cactus. It was a beautiful night, so we went upstairs to enjoy the atmosphere at the semi-outdoors bar. We’re discussing directorial near-misses. The margaritas flow like wine.

We are seated for dinner and serendipitously joined by Slackerwood‘s own Jenn Brown. She tells us that she saw Tom Skerritt at the Driskill’s Bar. I laugh on the outside, but on the inside, I immediately want to go home and marathon Picket Fences. I am nervous. More margaritas.

Two floors below us on 6th Street, a chorus of crazy religious nuts holds up large banners, playing hymns on a trumpet and yelling Bible verses about the dangers of drinking, being gay, and generally having fun. We toast them. Later, while discussing feminism in films (read: we were all disappointed with Amelia) and beyond, we hear “Pour Some Sugar On Me” from the bar across the way. I decide that this is a really great night.

The Paramount

We head to the Paramount Theater for my first visit and screening there. Tonight, we are seeing Youth In Revolt. The Paramount Theater is another old-style beauty. She may have creaky orchestra seats, but a lovely facade and grand entrance hall just about makes my night. I hear a tale about the famous “Houdini Hole” in the ceiling (Houdini performed at the Paramount during the days of vaudeville). Simultaneously, I’m crafting seven or eight Houdini Hole jokes in my head. Finally, I sit down to see a film. I am punch-drunk with excitement, and regular drunk too. For good measure. AFF Film director Kelly Williams kicks off the fest, with a rousing introduction that I now can’t remember.

Youth In Revolt

Youth In Revolt proves to be funnier than I expected. The audience completely ate it up. Coming in at only 84 minutes, it’s a charming tale about first love and adolescent rebellion. Michael Cera plays Nick Twisp, which is the most Michael-Cera’s-stock-character sounding name I’ve ever heard. Twisp, at all of 16, has a bothersome lack of a life and falls in love with an interesting girl, Sheeni, while staying at a trailer park.

Armed with cute direction and a rock-solid screenplay, Twisp is put into hilarious and embarrassing situations that his alter ego, Francois (also played hilariously by Michael Cera), is charged with fixing. There’s sex, drugs, and arson — and a bevy of great supporting cast: Justin Long, Steve Buscemi, Zach Galifianakis, Jean Smart, Fred Willard, Ray Liotta, and Mary Kay Place. I can’t find a thing I didn’t like about this absurd film. This movie is what Fantastic Fest’s Gentlemen Broncos should have been. Several sight gags, smart dialogues, and gut laughs later, and I am officially digging the light-hearted tone of AFF.

ZMD: Zombies of Mass Destruction

Fellow Geek Press members and I dart out of the theater before the masses, and I am dizzy with excitement. Or maybe it’s a combination of tequila and a sugar high. I don’t know, but we book it to the Alamo Drafthouse Theater on 6th Street, called The Ritz, for our second and final film of the day, Zombies of Mass Destruction. Two things I will say about ZMD: 1) it’s terrible, and 2) do not text, tweet, and have conversations at movies – even bad movies.

ZMD‘s concept is one I was totally behind: zombies run amok in a small, conservative town. For a B-movie, I expected to enjoy it and have a few laughs. Even a shared bottle of Prosecco couldn’t make this film good. We tried. There are a few jump scares, and lots of blood. One or two times I did giggle, but as soon as we got our check, we were out of there. We brushed past the filmmakers on the way out. I kept my eyes down.

Worst crowd ever, and leftist musings that (even speaking as a Democrat) are flat-out stupid, oddly placed, and highly unnecessary. The fact that this movie was made during an economic recession proves to me that America’s priorities are extremely out of line. But I don’t care about that. There’s work to be done.

There and Back Again

We’re down 6th Street one more time — this time at a late-night private party where I get more free drinks, meet documentary filmmaker Hillary Pierce, and am flat-out tired. We see guys with dreadlocks and filmmakers galore, but I can’t recognize anyone, and I’m convinced that this is a terrible time to act like press. Time to call it a night.

Heading home via the designated driver, we see idiot coeds, girls in bikinis, girls in less than that, and two guys making out in the back of a police car. They don’t call it Austin Film Fest for nothin’. I marvel at the beautiful skyline as we drive across the river, and into the night.

The Austin Film Festival, which kicks off on October 22, will be hosting quite possibly one of the coolest retrospectives that any space nerd could hope for. They will welcome director Ron Howard, his brother Clint, astronaut Jim Lovell and other very special guests to the Paramount Theater for a retrospective screening of Apollo 13 on Saturday, October 24th.

The star-studded event will also include Apollo 13 screenwriters William Broyles Jr. and Al Reinert (who directed one of my favorite space docs of all time, For All Mankind), as well as NASA mission control specialists Jerry Bostick, John Aaron and Sy Liebergot (who was played by Clint Howard in the film) — all of whom worked in mission control during the ill-fated Apollo 13 mission.

Most impressive of all is Jim Lovell (portrayed by Tom Hanks in the film), who was the mission commander and co-author of the book “Lost Moon: The Perilous Voyage of Apollo 13,” upon which the film was based. I’m certain that seeing Apollo 13 on the big screen (something I remember doing when I was a kid), but being able to throw questions at the man who actually rode in the command module around the Moon. Seriously, if you’re around town that week, find a ticket and bring the kids for some real human history — and a movie.

Until then, stay tuned for our coverage of the Austin Film Festival. And don’t be shy, go visit AustinFilmFestival.com and check out all of the cool panelists that will be in town for the screenwriting conference, including Lost’s Damon Lindelof, Mad Men’s Matthew Weiner and Dexter’s Melissa Rosenberg.