Closing Night Reception
March 4, 2007 at 9:17 p.m.
A line snaked around the Locust St. side of the Missouri Theatre as people waited to enter for the closing night reception.
Not having to wait (because I had a press pass), I sat on the stairs leading to the balcony and watched volunteers and directors as they stood around the food prepared by a local restaurant. On two buffet tables were three chafers of meatloaf, alfredo pasta and green bean casserole. The tables, in honor of American Shopper, were decorated with Schnuck’s “Crispy Rice” cereal, canned green beans and vanilla cookies.
While people still could not enter, festival organizer David Wilson seemed anxious as he held his hands together in prayer position over his mouth. There didn’t appear to be much to worry about, but being one of the co-founders of an up and coming documentary film festival probably doesn’t come without angst.
As the ticket and pass holders standing outside slowly made their way into the entryway of the theatre, the traffic inside picked up as they began to indulge in the free food. Since there were few places to sit and eat, some were found propped up on trashcans—I don’t think it registered that they were eating on top of a trashcan, as the food and excitement kept the trashcan out of mind.
Still sitting on the stairs people watching, I heard the warming up of instruments inside the theatre and decided to check it out.
On stage were the “Pine Hill Haints” from Huntsville, Ala. Their music is coined as “Alabama ghost country music” and to me it sounded like a mix of country western, bluegrass and early rock-n-roll. They had an interesting ensemble of instruments—a homemade bass, made from an aluminum wash tub turned upside down with a stretchy string-like material tied to a wooden stick, a single snare drum, two guitars, a mandolin and a harmonica. Fascinated by the bass and the band’s unique sound, I stuck around to listen for a while as people filed into the theatre for the “hometown sneak preview,” American Shopper.
Downstairs, while the “Pine Hill Haints” were still playing, free beer and wine were passed out as volunteers tried to get people to take their seats—it was a slow process.
On my way out, just before the film began, a line of people had formed. These were the ones without tickets who had to take a number in hopes to see the film. Looking at their numbers, the highest I saw was 84, but there were several others waiting with even higher numbers as I left the theatre.
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