Short Film of the Year 2001: ‘This is an Outrage’
February 26, 2001
Tropfest was held here last night. If you’re unfamiliar with the unusual offensive smells that haunt the lower regions of Elizabeth Street in Sydney, chances are you’re not familiar enough with the city to have heard of Tropfest.
It’s held annually in the Domain - a big moshpit which masquarades as a botannical garden by day. Free to attend, Tropfest is a short film contest. I’d never been before, and considering the appealing price and the fact that we’re now living a short walk from the Domain, Adam and I decided to attend to see the films on the big screen.
As we flowed into the Domain, I realised that I shouldn’t have been so lazy earlier in the afternoon - Adam had wanted to attend early. Searching around for a spare patch of grass, I realised finding somewhere to sit was likely as finding a women’s portal website without horoscopes and diet tips.
‘They shouldn’t let so many people in,’ Adam grumbled.
‘What do you want, a private screening or something?’ I replied.
‘YES,’ Adam replied, and he would have continued his argument if a representative from eBay hadn’t thrust confusing brochures in our faces.
‘eBay,’ Adam nodded in approval, and discarded the flyer. Judging from the neatly paper-carpeted ground, I presumed most Tropfest attendees didn’t have online auctions as one of their priorities in life.
As we made our way around the edge of the park, more flyers and leaflets were continuously thrust in our face. It was reminicent of some sort of gauntlet challenge from the sorely missed TV show Gladiators, with papercuts in leiu of injuries sustained from giant foam cotton buds.
Another leaflet was forcibly placed in my hand, and I was about to turn around and attempt to return it to the representative, when the leaflet turned alarmingly cold. I looked down and realised that it was in fact an ice cream - some dairy products company was having a promotion. Something about taking candy from strangers flashed through my mind momentarily, but I noticed Adam was already tucking into a large icecream beside me and gobbled mine as well.
‘This is better than eBay,’ Adam gurgled, mid-mouthful.
We eventually found a sneaky patch of grass in one of the corners of the park, which wasn’t too crowded but allowed for nice viewing of the screen. We settled down amongst the others who were occupying themselves in various fashions to pass the time.
Most methods of making the time pass seemed to involve smoking substances other than tobacco, and for the first time in a very, very long time, I felt a little reminiscent of university and wished I had a little joint to smoke before the films started. It was just that kind of atmosphere. I surprised myself, because dope’s not something I have really taken an interest in after my uni days.
(On the subject of drugs: substances are definitely something I’d only do in a blue moon. Dope I don’t like too much because you have to smoke it, but I’m interested in trying E. Never done it before and not something I’d take on a regular basis, but I’d like to do it at least once. I think I can pass this off on my gay gene. Rick the Pimp has already decided that we’re going to Wonderland (local theme park) when I have my first E).
Adam lay back and complained about Tex Perkins, who was playing on the stage before the films began. ‘He’s American, isn’t he?’ Adam challenged.
‘No,’ I answered. Adam looked a little deflated, as if he was ready to launch some ready-to-serve anti-Yank sentiment.
‘Oh,’ he quietly said. ‘Well, he’s crap anyway.’ We heard a squeal behind nearby and Adam suddenly burst into laughter. I think it was something about a frisbee hitting a passerby on the head.
In the middle of the park was quite a spectacular sight. To light up the area, a special balloon had been constructed and strung up high in the air. It cast out a brilliantly bright light and was a pretty awesome sight to see. I have no idea how it works, but I want one for my loungeroom (admittedly the balloon itself was about three times the size of our entire apartment, but I could always move the couches around, I suppose).
Eventually 8pm rolled around, and everyone’s favourite crap breakfast radio DJ Adam Spencer took the stage.
‘He looks so weird without his goatee now,’ Adam noticed.
‘He looks like what I look like without a goatee,’ I decided. ‘Like a knob,’ I added for clarification.
‘He’s gay, you know,’ Adam prodded.
‘He so is not,’ I dismissed.
‘Yes he is.’ Adam was… er, adamant. (Sorry.)
‘No, see, all gay people think everyone’s gay,’ I explained. ‘Especially around Mardi Gras and all that.’
‘Nah, a guy at work went out with him one night,’ Adam recounted. ‘He does heaps of coke too.’
‘He’s got a blind eye like me too,’ I changed the subject.
‘Pfft, it’s just another orifice for me,’ was the response, and I thought it best to leave it at that.
Behind us, a girl was performing one of the classic mobile phone conversations. Everyone’s familiar with the ‘I’m on the train!… the TRAIN!… we’re going through a TUNNEL!’ routine, but if you’ve ever been to a large event like this, you’ll be familiar with the trying-to-find-someone phone call.
‘We’re near the tree! The TREE! With the branches! Just go past the food stalls…. what, there’s more than one set of food stalls? Oh, just walk up until you see the garbage bin and turn left and you can’t miss us… yes, I’ll call out… you’ll hear my voice… what the fuck do you mean that’s a John Farnham song?’
A small squabble then began over the alleged title of the song in question. I smugly sat nearby knowing full well the song was ‘You’re The Voice’, but it would have seemed a little strange turning around and informing the throng of this fact.
The judges were being introduced on-stage. ‘Where’s Russell Crowe?’ called out someone in front of us. ‘Yeah!’ shouted a few others. I wondered why the fuck they were demanding Russell Crowe when he wasn’t even appearing at Tropfest. Could he hear their cries and rush superhero-like to make an appearance with Who Weekly photographers in tow?
A Channel Nine logo appeared on the giant screen in the middle of the park. ‘Is this on TV?’ Adam wondered.
‘Probably,’ I replied.
‘We could have watched this at home,’ started the whinging next to me.
‘It’s the atmosphere,’ I explained. ‘And the free ice cream, too.’
‘I want more ice cream,’ the whinging persisted.
A short sequence of martial arts action began on the screen. After it ended, Adam was confident it would win the festival.
‘That has got to be the best movie easily,’ he proclaimed. ‘Amazing effects for a small budget movie.’
‘That was a commercial,’ I cautiously told him.
‘Fuck off, it was not,’ he replied.
‘Er… it was for Showtime, you know, cable TV channel.’
‘Well it was THE BEST MOVIE THEN,’ he snapped, and I sat in silence, studying the floating giant white balloon of light some more.
‘That balloon fucking rocks,’ I commented.
‘You love that thing, don’t you?’ Adam noticed.
‘It’s great,’ I confirmed.
Then the light-balloon faded, and the short films began. At first I thought there was a problem with the giant screens because I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear the films. With alarm I realised I had spots on my eyes because I’d been looking at the light balloon for too long.
‘I can’t see anything!’ I panicked to Adam.
‘Sssshhh!’ the surrounding crowd - including Adam - hissed. I sat blinking in panic for a good ten minutes before I could see properly again.
We left before the judging began (we were only there to view the films, really) and decided to visit a nearby pub for a drink.
As we sat down with a bourbon and Coke each, a flamboyant male marched up to the bar and demanded two strawberry dacharies to drink.
‘We haven’t got any strawberries, unfortunately,’ the bar girl replied.
‘THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!’ the man shrieked. ‘HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WORKING HERE! DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM? GO AND BUY SOME STRAWBERRIES FOR ME NOW! THIS IS AN ABSOLUTE OUTRAGE…’ The waitress quivered behind the bar, and the bar manager came to her rescue, rolling up his sleeves with an angry look on his face.
I sat back, realising that if only this (and the ensuing fight scene) was happening in a movie, it’d be winning Tropfest hands down.
