The directors and staff of the annual Chattanooga Film Fest affectionately call it “summer camp for cinephiles,” and it’s an apt description. For three days, rows of film enthusiasts gather early in the morning in downtown Chattanooga to watch hours of short films, feature films, surprise screenings, and world premieres. Best-selling horror authors, talented local directors, social media-famous film reviewers, and locals who love independent movies mingle and chat.
The organizers’ passion is unrivaled. The film festival is in its 11th year, and it’s an entirely crowdfunded endeavor, dependent on donations, badge sales, and tickets for individual screenings. Festival director Chris Dortch bounces from screening to screening, smiling and laughing and greeting people. He seems delighted to share an artistic medium that he loves so deeply with a diverse group of people.
I didn’t think I would get to attend the Chattanooga Film Festival in its entirety when, month ago, I bought an individual ticket to attend one of the in-person movie screenings. When I reached out to Chris, telling him how excited I was to come see the film, he graciously offered me a press pass for the entire festival so I could write about it for the Mountain Mirror and my online blog.
This year, the Chattanooga Film Festival was headquartered at the historic Read House downtown, and ran from June 21-28 virtually and June 21-23 in person. My favorite movie buddy (and Mountain Mirror writer!) Merrile and I soaked in the festival together throughout the weekend. Our days were packed. In the mornings, they’d show a two-hour block of back-to-back short films, followed swiftly by several feature films. Nothing overlapped, but, because the films were so close together, it took some intentional maneuvering to fit coffee and lunch breaks into our schedule.
It might be surprising that a festival that focuses heavily on horror had films that tapped into deeply authentic emotions. I love horror, and one of the things that I love about it is the way that the genre subverts narrative expectations. Horror can be sad, scary, funny, poignant, and clever. Its range is magnificent, and the organizers at the film festival did a wonderful job in choosing films that showcased that variety.
The film offerings were plentiful, with both local and wider-release options playing throughout the week. Some of the films were only available in-person, while others were available to watch online with a virtual or hybrid badge. The first day, Merrile and I saw A Guide to Becoming an Elm Tree, a slow and meditative movie about Irish folklore and grief. I enjoyed Ganymede, an emotionally heavy horror drama about a young man navigating his self-discovery, and attended the world premiere of Video Vision, a horror-romance about a young woman who works at a video store and gets plagued by an analog villain. We even got to enjoy a surprise screening of the 1975 classic Race With the Devil, a road trip and “Satanic Panic” film rolled into one. The standout for me, though, was the festival favorite French-Canadian horror Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person, a whimsical horror about a young vampire who refuses to kill humans.
Merrile and I agreed that the short films were also delightful. Being immersed in a story for a brief time allowed the film to set a stage and offer a compact and effective narrative. Our favorite,13th Night, was about a man who makes a deal with a malevolent grinning being to save his daughter’s life.
We saw a slew of great films, but the opportunity to socialize with film fans and directors was an equally exciting experience. On the first full day of the festival, Merrile and I interviewed the writer and director, Nick Verdi, of one of the films that was showing that weekend. We’d enjoyed an advance screening of the film, an experimental small-town slasher called Sweet Relief, the week before, so we came poised with lots of questions.
Nick’s comments about film-making resonated deeply, while encompassing the wider spirit of the film festival. “I like that my film gets split reviews,” Nick said, “because my goal is to have an effect. It’s better to love or hate it than think it’s just “good” or ‘fine.’” The kinds of films that inspired Sweet Relief, Nick said, are films that act like “devotional cinema” by allowing the audience to sit in their own uncertainties.
“People can be annoyed when they’re sitting with something they don’t understand,” Nick explained, “but they don’t realize that the film isn’t trying to tell you what’s good and bad.” Instead, it’s offering a kind of catharsis – a shared environment where the audience can sit with a film and experience it in community.
The Chattanooga Film Festival offers exactly that kind of communal shared environment. For a weekend, we socialized, laughed, cried, hid our eyes, and celebrated the creative work of passionate and talented people who love to tell stories.
For more information on the Chattanooga Film Fest, visit chattfilmfest.org. I’ll definitely be attending next year, and you should too!
by Henri Lowe
The organizers’ passion is unrivaled. The film festival is in its 11th year, and it’s an entirely crowdfunded endeavor, dependent on donations, badge sales, and tickets for individual screenings. Festival director Chris Dortch bounces from screening to screening, smiling and laughing and greeting people. He seems delighted to share an artistic medium that he loves so deeply with a diverse group of people.
I didn’t think I would get to attend the Chattanooga Film Festival in its entirety when, month ago, I bought an individual ticket to attend one of the in-person movie screenings. When I reached out to Chris, telling him how excited I was to come see the film, he graciously offered me a press pass for the entire festival so I could write about it for the Mountain Mirror and my online blog.
This year, the Chattanooga Film Festival was headquartered at the historic Read House downtown, and ran from June 21-28 virtually and June 21-23 in person. My favorite movie buddy (and Mountain Mirror writer!) Merrile and I soaked in the festival together throughout the weekend. Our days were packed. In the mornings, they’d show a two-hour block of back-to-back short films, followed swiftly by several feature films. Nothing overlapped, but, because the films were so close together, it took some intentional maneuvering to fit coffee and lunch breaks into our schedule.
It might be surprising that a festival that focuses heavily on horror had films that tapped into deeply authentic emotions. I love horror, and one of the things that I love about it is the way that the genre subverts narrative expectations. Horror can be sad, scary, funny, poignant, and clever. Its range is magnificent, and the organizers at the film festival did a wonderful job in choosing films that showcased that variety.
The film offerings were plentiful, with both local and wider-release options playing throughout the week. Some of the films were only available in-person, while others were available to watch online with a virtual or hybrid badge. The first day, Merrile and I saw A Guide to Becoming an Elm Tree, a slow and meditative movie about Irish folklore and grief. I enjoyed Ganymede, an emotionally heavy horror drama about a young man navigating his self-discovery, and attended the world premiere of Video Vision, a horror-romance about a young woman who works at a video store and gets plagued by an analog villain. We even got to enjoy a surprise screening of the 1975 classic Race With the Devil, a road trip and “Satanic Panic” film rolled into one. The standout for me, though, was the festival favorite French-Canadian horror Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person, a whimsical horror about a young vampire who refuses to kill humans.
Merrile and I agreed that the short films were also delightful. Being immersed in a story for a brief time allowed the film to set a stage and offer a compact and effective narrative. Our favorite,13th Night, was about a man who makes a deal with a malevolent grinning being to save his daughter’s life.
We saw a slew of great films, but the opportunity to socialize with film fans and directors was an equally exciting experience. On the first full day of the festival, Merrile and I interviewed the writer and director, Nick Verdi, of one of the films that was showing that weekend. We’d enjoyed an advance screening of the film, an experimental small-town slasher called Sweet Relief, the week before, so we came poised with lots of questions.
Nick’s comments about film-making resonated deeply, while encompassing the wider spirit of the film festival. “I like that my film gets split reviews,” Nick said, “because my goal is to have an effect. It’s better to love or hate it than think it’s just “good” or ‘fine.’” The kinds of films that inspired Sweet Relief, Nick said, are films that act like “devotional cinema” by allowing the audience to sit in their own uncertainties.
“People can be annoyed when they’re sitting with something they don’t understand,” Nick explained, “but they don’t realize that the film isn’t trying to tell you what’s good and bad.” Instead, it’s offering a kind of catharsis – a shared environment where the audience can sit with a film and experience it in community.
The Chattanooga Film Festival offers exactly that kind of communal shared environment. For a weekend, we socialized, laughed, cried, hid our eyes, and celebrated the creative work of passionate and talented people who love to tell stories.
For more information on the Chattanooga Film Fest, visit chattfilmfest.org. I’ll definitely be attending next year, and you should too!
by Henri Lowe
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