Be your boozy best

Film critics are a cranky bunch, and never more so than at film festivals. You might find it counter-intuitive, but festivals give us plenty to complain about. Nonetheless, there’s one enduring element of a film festival that we typically greet with unmitigated joy: the alcohol.

From embassy receptions to distributors’ parties, free booze abounds. It’s so rife that a filmmaker friend of mine often gives industry novices a crucial piece of advice: don’t drink the free wine. But hey, it’s hard. Drinking is built into film fest culture. You spend the day criss-crossing unfamiliar cities looking for hole-in-the-wall cinemas, wolfing down half-eaten sandwiches as you hustle between screenings, and likely fitting more than four films in each day.

When you’re done, a fat, chilled glass of Pinot practically screams your name. And of course free alcohol has a way of lubricating an already slippery slope: you may start by politely weighing the merits of the new Malick over a sip of wine, but you’ll finish by asking someone to take a picture of you in a nightclub toilet because “the wall behind me is pretty.”

Once you wake up the next morning, what is a dedicated cinephile to do when faced with a braingrinding hangover? Don’t worry. I have a few bulletproof tips for surviving a film festival hangover, none of which have any relation, whatsoever, to my own behaviour as a consummate professional.

Basics first: remember to bring your festival pass. And make sure you don’t lock yourself out of your hotel room by accident.

Tactically over-compensate for the hangover by overdressing. People tend to slump around at festivals during the day and leave the gladrags for the night-time. A smart collared shirt or nice dress makes people think you’re way more put-together than you are.

Don’t go to see the latest Bruno Dumont or anything else more than two hours in length.

Avoid miserable dramas about Romanian potato farmers. If you ignore this rule, don’t be surprised to get unnecessarily sensitive and uglycry through a whole screening. You didn’t hear it from me, but all your under-eye concealer and mascara will come off, you will look like a hot mess at 10:00 a.m., and you’ll need industrial floor-paint to fix your face.

Avoid your editors like the plague. Wave and smile at a distance if absolutely necessary. There’s nothing worse than leaving a film and having someone ask your opinion the second you walk out. You don’t want to stare at them blankly, sweatypalmed, because you’ve spent the last 20 minutes of the film thinking about going to McDonalds. Here’s the plan: brainstorm some great adjectives to roll out in advance. Try ones like “lightweight” or “ponderous” if you didn’t like it. If all else fails, vaguely refer to it as “insightful,” say you can’t wait to write about it, and change the subject.

This is film criticism at its finest.