San Fran-derella

San Francisco is really the perfect place to screen a lesbian movie. Last Friday, Butch Jamie screened at the Castro Theatre. The house was full and the audience fantastic.



It was the first time I watched the movie the way I always wanted to - with laughter from start to finish, in all the right places. Cheering, clapping, even screaming - the energy around me was so contagious I couldn't help but smile as I watched the film (and I honestly tried not to - I think it looks so smug. I've seen several stage shows where the director is the loudest person laughing - of course it's great to enjoy what you do and all, but the idea at that point is for *other* people to enjoy it).

I've had several people ask me "How does it feel?" How does it feel to screen your film, win an award, etc.? I always feel that my answer disappoints them. It's hard to explain - it's not how you think it would. Making a film, publicizing, and selling it is a long process - a series of successes and failures over several years. You take it day by day, moment by moment. It never happens all at once (or at least it hasn't for me). You have to step back to appreciate it sometimes. You don't get overwhelmed by the excitement of it all because it happens so slowly - nothing happens overnight. It builds gradually, and you watch the horizon from a hundred miles away. You see it evolve and take shape but it never seems to happen fast enough. You live faster than your life happens, and anything that does happen is "so five minutes ago."

But then you do have these moments. Like sitting in a crowded theater and taking the journey of your story through the eyes of other people. Feeling as if you're making some sort of connection with them, as vague and faint as it feels sometimes. Talking to them during the Q&A; telling the same stories over and over again, but getting better at them every time. Meeting some of them afterward and answering questions they were too afraid to ask with the audience, or hearing them talk about their own cat who should be an actor.

Afterward, life seems to return to an unaltered state. Like a Cinderella fairy tale, I go back to my day job, my friends and acquaintances who haven't seen the film, my lean bank account, small apartment, and car that hasn't been washed in a year (I know, I know - I'm getting to it). And I work and wait and wish and watch, knowing that it's real but wondering if its not.