Alexandra returns moments later, oblivious to the crazed wanderings of my mind and pretty soon says she has to go because she’s tired; it is about 4am so I can believe this. We hug goodbye and plan to meet tomorrow. The boyfriend leaves too and I’m left with the porkpie who almost immediately asks me if I like to party with guys!? I continue to attempt to assert my heterosexuality and tell him I prefer girls at which point I score a mild breakthrough – “Oh, yeah, I partied before I came here – any girl, now, here, she’s up for it. Any girl, you want any girl, you take her; I have your back.”
Given my previous concerns, I’m still not too sure about this guy ‘having my back’ and I tell him I’m just hanging out and he doesn’t need to have my back! I finish my drink and throw caution to the wind, opting to go to another club with this chap who by now I’ve deduced is a pretty reasonable straight forward kinda guy. Well, once we’ve left the club, he thinks it’s pretty funny to kick awake a sleeping homeless guy and shout “Polizei! Polizei!” at him but, apart from that, he’s a pretty reasonable straight forward kinda guy. The next club is dying so we cut our respective losses and I head home at about 5am but only after my new friend has insisted on giving me a fat cigar. Even though I don’t smoke, it’s easier to accept than to refuse so I cheerily accept.
I wake up about 1.30pm on my next and last day and head into town to see my first and only feature on this trip – The Aviatrix from Kazbek, the director and titular star of the film both being folk I met a few days earlier at the HBO party. The film is okay but it doesn’t blow me away; it’s a Dutch film about a young, innocent girl who makes friends with the Germans during their invasion just before the end of the Second World War. It’s pleasant enough but deliberately whimsical and fairly slight.
I’m idly hanging around outside, wondering what to do for the next hour before meeting Alexandra at 6pm when I bump into Michelle who asks if I knew I was presenting the Shadow Shorts prize at the closing night ceremony that evening. I think she’s kidding and don’t believe her but, five minutes later, she’s convinced me otherwise; this is especially bizarre since it’s being broadcast live on Romanian National television. What the hell!?
Luckily, last minute, I packed a suit so I head back to my hotel and taking it all in my stride, change out of my jeans and t-shirt and into said suit, rushing back in time to meet Alexandra who never shows up. Instead, I sit down with my fellow jury members and write down our reasons for awarding the film its prize after which we have a beer (well, I do) and then saunter over to the beautiful old theatre where the ceremony is taking place, plagued already by the attendant paparazzi and camera crews who look at us suspiciously as we sheepishly cut up to the entrance and into the relative safety of the venue.
It seems Romania’s oldest, finest, richest and most beautiful are in attendance and perhaps because perversely I refuse to take the translation headphones, there’s something very ebullient and charismatic about the whole ceremony, conducted as it is by the festival’s effortless and natural born presenter Tudor Giurgiu. I applaud when everyone applauds and I laugh when everyone laughs, I even stand up when everyone stands up for a lifetime achievement award presented to an older Romanian actress although I don’t quite make it onto my feet when Wim gets his award.
Suddenly, it’s my turn and I’m whisked away to the backstage green room where I’m introduced to my fellow presenter, Romania’s Miss Universe! No-one told me about this but I take it in my stride and when it becomes apparent that Romania’s Miss Romania is a bit nervous and doesn’t exactly know what she’s presenting or why, I briefly explain. It turns out she’s just come back from making a film in India which would explain her look – dark skin, long dark hair, wearing a sari and bindi – and before I can say “Ah that’s interesting, I’m hoping to make a film in Rajasthan”, we’re escorted into the wings, ready for our national introduction.
It is at this point that Romania’s Miss Universe asks if I can hold her hand. Err, well, why, of course! I take her hand. She apologises and says she meant her arm. Oh, okay, well I can do that too so I take her arm. She doesn’t want to fall over apparently (high heels and nerves can be a fatal anti-balance combo you know). I stand first in line to escort her out into the bright lights but then the production manager tells me to get back, Romania’s Miss Universe has to come out first. I tell him she needs me to balance otherwise she might fall over. Romania’s Miss Universe tells me it’s okay, she’ll manage, so, I let go of her and, she’s right; she doesn’t fall over in spite of the weight of her massive smile as she sashays onto stage. Seconds later I’m invited on stage and part of me suddenly thinks I need to hold on to her to stop ME falling over but I too manage, and wave casually, confidently, not only to the folk at the Cluj theatre but in fact the whole of Romania. Tudor asks me what I thought of the films and I tell him I thought they were of a very high quality and then the envelope is opened and the winners announced. We all kiss and shake hands (with the winners) and finally Tudor asks me why we chose this particular film. I read a couple of paragraphs from the scraggly envelope I wrote on and that’s pretty much it.
We walk off stage to much applause; I wave goodbye and before I know it, we’re back in the wings, on the way to the photo call. As I walk down the stairs to our photo call I tread on Romania’s Miss Universe’s dress. Thankfully the train is suitably long (a couple of metres) that, with a bit of deft footwork, I quickly step off it and she’s none the wiser. As a bunch of photographers click away, we stand there together and I decide not to put my arm around her waist. She stands there smiling happily whilst I try to maintain an aura of cool which I suspect looks more like a fug of confusion and general uncertainty as to how my life brought me to this particular point.
As if to ground me in some vague reality, I have to head over to another theatre where Red White & Blue is having its second screening at the end of which I’m scheduled to do a Q&A. I meet Rik and I’m pretty grateful that only about quarter of the crowd leave before we start talking and things are going pretty well until Rik asks if everyone enjoyed the film? There’s a deafening silence as the audience remains collectively mute. Ever the professional, Rik moves on with another question and I try to answer as charismatically as possible. A few questions later and it’s over to the audience and I’m heartened when one girl says she thought the film was absolutely stunning and the best thing she’s seen in the last two years. Part of me wonders what the best film she’s seen in the last three years is but I know when to take a compliment when I’m given one and I’m grateful.
As Rik and I head over to the closing night party I get a text from Alexandra saying she couldn’t meet me because she had spent all day cleaning her house and then her mother had come but she’d had to take her mother to hospital which I vaguely remember her saying last time we met – great news obviously that her mother’s still alive and can be taken to hospital! I hang out with the old crowd of muckers, directors and actresses and congratulate Nowt whose film wins best film in competition. I see Romania’s Miss Universe one more time and salute her with my vodka and Redbull; she smiles back but carries on walking. No doubt the party will go on all night but my plane leaves at 6am so I have to head back to my hotel at a respectable 4am, pack and catch my 4.30 taxi. The sun is rising over the misty hilltops as I stagger onto the plane and just before I pass out for the next few hours I think “I love the Transilvania Film Festival!”
Red White & Blue will be screening at the Dubrovnik, Montreal and Sarajevo Film Festivals in July, and at London’s Frightfest in August.
