SHORT:
They should give an Oscar to everyone who makes a film (short or long) just for not k*lling themselves during the process.
MEDIUM:
This past week wrapped up the second half of NewFest, where I saw a lot of incredible work. And by that, I mean the 300+ TikToks I watched on how to pose in front of a step-and-repeat. There are some great ones for how to position your body, but I’m begging a teenager to make one on “how to hold your face in a way that doesn’t look like a sad, old shoe.”
For my own screening, I wore some “merch” that my art department made for the fictional rockstar in my short—a shirt that reads: EAT CROTCH across the front. I thought it’d be a fun little nod to the film.
What I didn’t consider was that, to get to the screening, I’d have to ride the subway with a bunch of people who can... read. Especially bold-lettered shirts. New Yorkers are always reading shirts—how else would they know if someone loved their city or not? [insert pic of I <3 New York shirt] [crowd goes wild for hilarious joke].
So I spent the 45-minute trip looking like I was ready to take a bite out of every manspreader on the R train1.
LONG:
While hustling to the venue I — of course — also ran into two people from my past. Neither said anything about the shirt, but I’m sure they both now think I’m in some sort of horny speed walker’s club. I was still processing this when I finally made it to the venue’s green room. Soon after, a filmmaker from my block looked at me and asked, “You starred in your film, right?” I replied, “Oh no, that was a beautiful woman named Emily, but thank you.”
Then I found my seat, and the real terror set in—waiting for my film to start. There’s nothing like sitting in the dark, praying the projector doesn’t melt down or the audio doesn’t suddenly switch to a TED Talk about raccoon penises. I leaned over to Jess, whispering, “Make it stop, make it stop,” and they calmly replied, “It hasn’t started, so it can’t stop,” followed by, “You wanted this,” and, “Editing this took years off my life, so you better enjoy it.”
In the end, the film looked beautiful, and I’m genuinely grateful for all the people who helped make it. During the Q&A, I mumbled about ‘performance’ while the 6-foot-tall gay guys around me gave well-timed, witty answers. I kept being like, “if I was them, my life would be perfect2”, and “I can’t believe I am standing here in an ‘EAT CROTCH’ shirt that I cut into a little vest.”
The only other major thing I did this week was attend a party for my friend Catherine Cohen’s VEEPS special—stream it! Longtime readers might remember that the last time I attended one of Catherine’s events, I had two martinis, blacked out, and ended up being rolled down hotel steps into an ambulance—in front of comedians I admired. That’s when I realized I was truly unwell—I was admiring comedians. Zing!
This time, I played it safe with three Diet Cokes and a single chicken nugget in a little white tray, like a small, hungry dog (Snack Of The Week).
There was another step-and-repeat, so I tried out my new posing skills. It did not go well. I can’t smile, because if I do, it looks like I’m running for office. But if I don’t, it looks like I’ve eaten a fart.
Comment below with advice.
Oh, and, today I got a DM from the filmmaker who thought I starred in my own film. Turns out, he thought I was the person who made the summer camp short in my block… the one where the lead (that he thought I played) is… literally 11 years old.
AWESOME!!! Time to search “how to not look 11” on TikTok (there’s probably a scary number of results for that one).
C U Next Tuesday
Thank you for subscribing to this newsletter. Sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s not [it’s a lot like when people slip on ice].If this is your first time reading, pls check out the archives.
Sincerely,
Reid Pope
Bonus Jonas:
Friday’s our last Late Stage taping before the hiatus. If you’re in NYC, let me know, I’ll get you a ticket! Or come see us at the Bell House on Nov 12.
Also we’re two weeks out from the marathon and still fundraising. So if you’ve got $5 or the price of a latte to spare, [donate here].
I actually crossed my arms the whole way (not because I’m sex-negative*, but because I didn’t want the guy clipping his toenails two seats away to see it and strike up a conversation!).
*I am
I could reach tall shelves, that is what’s stopping my life from being perfect
I think the chicken tender at Cat's party may have been the best chicken tender I've ever had!