Tonight, after a long day of working, I barely gathered enough energy to drive myself to the Arclight to meet some friends for one of Gen Art's monthly screenings. Had I known that Towelhead was a film about statutory rape, prejudice and coming of age, I might have skipped it altogther. Had I remembered that the screening was, in fact, a premiere, I might have worn makeup and cuter underwear. But I knew none of this. I came with no expectations of the film. And I came in old pink panties.The film was, in the end, phenomenal. I'm no film critic. And I shouldn't give it away. But I'll tell you this--any film that brings back knit wool sweaters and imagines golf courses overrun by nude chicks--well, it's got to be good.
The highlight of the evening for my friend was having her picture taken with director Alan Ball, director of American Beauty, creator of Six Feet Under, and now of True Blood. While I was too bashful to partake in the major, maaaajor geek out session that ensued, I got in on the action by lending my camera. So, my camera....touched the hands of my friend....who then put her arms around Alan Ball. Whooooa....whoa!
Yes, nearly everyone got in on the Ball action but yours truly.I'll confess now that I may not have known the name Alan Ball before tonight. But goshdarn--I liked his movie.
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