Smile Politely. Speak Directly. A Champaign-Urbana Culture Blog

11:45 a.m.: After being absent from the organ yesterday, Warren York is back and all is right again. As I look around and hear the organ’s jaunty tune, I feel a little bittersweet. It’s the last day of Ebertfest and I am extremely cagey from sitting in a movie theater for five days straight, yet this festival is a pinnacle of my year and I always hate to see it end. Warren plays “I’ll Be Seeing You” and I feel a little mushy inside.

11:00 a.m.: Chaz Ebert wastes no time in introducing the director for the first film of the day, the much-anticipated guest, Ang Lee. Mr. Lee is greeted by a chorus of U of I boys who sing the school song in his honor. “I am proud to be a Fighting Illini,” says the award-winning director of such films as Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Brokeback Mountain.

8:00 a.m.: I arrive at the Illini Union, searching in vain for the Pine Lounge that will hold the panel for “Today’s Writer/Director — It’s Not Just Business, It’s Personal.” It’s serendipitous I get there an hour ahead of time; after I locate the locked-up room and acquire a chai from the Courtyard Café, I run into Joey Pantoliano. Long story short, he ends up buying me a yogurt and we discuss his organization, “No Kidding, Me Too,” and the dour state of indie film distribution over breakfast. He promises to introduce me to Eclipse Award-winning former Sports Illustrated writer William Nack, whom I’ve come to the panel to see. Joey treats me like an old friend and fulfills his promise. I am indebted to him forever.

12:15 p.m.: The doors open even later than yesterday’s seven minute delay. It seems the Powers That Be are weaning us on a shorter diet of festival fun by adding heat to the decathlon. I am parked on a residential street on the opposite side of West Side Park to escape the voracious appetites of the new parking meter rates. Seventy-five cents my ass. There should be special festival parking slips for patrons, because paying $4.50 for six hours for parking in Champaign is a crime. Some of these people I know have gotten here earlier than 10 a.m. to wait in the Fest Pass line just to get in, and the first film doesn’t start until 1 p.m.

5:45 p.m.: I arrive and the line is wrapped around the historic Virginia Theatre down to the light pole at the end of the block. The lawn chairs, laptops and headphones have been broken out by the diehards sitting in the Virginia’s motherly shade. Each one of these people is sporting their festival pass, hanging from a lanyard like a gold medal. Technically, all these people need to do to get a seat is walk in a few minutes before showtime, because the Fest Pass guarantees you a seat to each showing. But oh, no, these people have been waiting in line for at least 45 minutes already, just to be able to grab the best seat once the doors open and the 10th annual Ebertfest kicks off. As this blog will detail, the experience of Ebertfest is a little bit of an endurance test, in some respects, a decathlon.

Be sure to stop by Ebertfest this weekend, and while you are there, pick up a copy of C-U Confidential, the brainchild of Jason Pankoke. The Virginia will be giving them away for free all weekend long. The magazine is dedicated to exposing the film community that lives and works in the greater C-U area.