The film was supposed to be screened only once, on the 22nd of December, at the Port of Tallinn, and as the film was being screened, it was being burned as well, so there is no way this can be screened again.
Now, you can skip my colourful commentary and beautiful photos by watching the video now.
Otherwise, let's move on.
On the evening of the 22nd, a bus picked us all up at the hotel.
Whisking us to the Port of Tallinn.
I noticed an intimidating crane and thought of Bela Tarr films.
A stupefyingly beautiful newscaster was covering the event. Alas, I wasn't able to catch a good view of her with my camera. But I have to say though, most women in Estonia are stupefyingly beautiful.
As you can see from the above photo, there were a few boxes lying around. Inside these boxes were the manifestos.
They had constructed an epic-looking screen for the outdoor screening.
It didn't happen to me back then, but as I look at the photos now, I cannot help but remember the Sony Tropfest Short Film Festivals in Australia, which I used to attend during my Perth days. Those played a role in my filmmaking career. 6 years ago I was an earnest university student who dreamed a filmmaking career and went to those screenings at the festival to learn.
Most of us invited filmmakers climbed onto the Jupiter for a better view of the screening, and also to wave hello to audiences prior to the screening.
The screening started. It was freezing.
I was happy to see own film played with music accompaniment, since I made my segment without any sound at all.
After it all ended, and the projector burst into flames, while the sound of excited applause were drowned by fireworks, we left on The Jupiter to the majestic Lennusadam Seaplane Harbour for the closing ceremony.
I was once asked in an interview what I thought about this screening, and how I felt knowing that this experience can never be replicated. My answer was that we will leave this to our memories again. After all, our memories tend to play a big role when it comes to cinema, we associate some films with special moments of our lives, we remember films of our childhood and youth with nostalgia, regardless of the actual artistic quality of these films. (Let's face it, as a child, I thought the two Home Alone films were The Most Important X'mas Films ever). Therefore, perhaps 60 SECONDS OF SOLITUDE AT YEAR ZERO will be the same for each and every single audience member who were fortunate to attend this once-in-a-lifetime event. Perhaps as this becomes a part of their (and my) memories, we will look back to the screening, to the actual film, through the fog of our memories and feel nothing but nostalgia. It's quite a comforting thought.
Here's the video of the screening again.