Attending the Yorkton Film Festival is like walking blindfolded down a grocery aisle and opening random cans on the shelves. It’s confusing, exciting, and likely to get you banned from your local Co-op (alright, maybe that metaphor isn’t exactly airtight).
I’ve been pumped up about YFF for months. When I first drove into Yorkton, I saw the list of yearly events on the billboards outside the city. I was bummed I’d missed the longest-running North American film fest by two months. I’ve been waiting for this event for close to a year.
I’ve always wanted to attend a true, honest-to-goodness film festival. The Cannes festival just wrapped up and it would’ve been a dream to attend it. The idea of watching a gauntlet of experimental, relativelyunknown films in a short span of time sounds delightful.
In Halifax, the closest thing to a film festival I attended was the Smartphone Film Festival. It was a one-evening affair where “directors” (including yours truly) submitted five-minute movies shot entirely on smartphones. It was a fun evening, but I was left wanting more.
YFF fit the bill. I knew I wouldn’t be able to see every movie on the schedule. Since there were two screening rooms and it’s physically impossible to be in two places at once (for now), I accepted my inability to absorb the entire film menu.
I got up bright and early-ish on May 26 and I headed to the Gallagher Centre. I stumbled into a room where they were playing an animated kid’s film about a mouse teaching children how to make flower crowns.
Then I walked to the other screening room where I watched “Must Kill Karl,” a black comedy where the titular character receives new ventilation in his neck courtesy of wood shrapnel. You could say those films didn’t exactly match each other tonally.
The day passed by in a blur of different genres, styles, and qualities. Movies about bizarre Tinder dates flowed into autobiographical mockumentaries. An hour-long documentary about deadly mosquitos forced me to take a quick lunch break. I finished my viewing session with two documentaries about catfishing and spelling bees.
YFF was a ride. It’s not about one single film; YFF is an experience. I can’t recommend it enough.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to persuade the Yorkton This Week higher-ups to finance my trip to the Toronto International Film Festival.
