The Night Before the Festival

Twas the night before the festival, when all through San Diego,
Every film fan was stirring, including those in a winnebago.

The reels were draped by the projector with care
In hopes that an Asian film star would soon be there.

The Asian communities were snug in their beds,
While visions of George Takei danced in their heads;

The SDAFF staff in their jammies, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down from the summer’s film trilogy trap,

When out at the Ultrastar theatre there arose a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the Hazard, I drove like a flash,
Rolled down the windows and tossed out some cash.

The neon on the breast of the SRO,
Gave the lustre of full audiences filled in each row,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
130 films, and film stars up to the ear.

With a courteous nod and welcoming cheer,
I knew in a moment Lee Ann Kim our fearless leader was here.

More rapid than eagles did the fans unite,
They whistled, and shouted, and the films they did cite.

“Now, Finishing the Game! Now, Dark Matter! Now The Victim and Vanaja.
On, The Rebel! On West 32nd! On Men of Hula and Ang Pamana!

To the top of the floor! to the top of the screen!
Now project away, project away, let all be seen!”

As celluloid rattles that before the focus is view,
When they meet on the screen, the image is new,

So up to the theatre-top the pictures did grow,
With a room full of patrons, and feet in each row.

And then, in a twinkling, I saw the projector light,
The strobe and the flickering were such a great sight.

As my eyes widened, with childlike awe,
The images before me, is all that I saw.

The color, the sound, from head to foot,
The audiences clapped, they gave a hoot;

A bundle of posters, and lobby cards to go,
We looked like filmgoers from head to toe.

Our eyes — how they twinkled! Our laughter so cheerful!
Our cheeks were like roses, our postures so blissful!

Our ear perked up, our mouths agape,
The films were rolling the happiness we could not escape,

The horror, the fantasy, the martial arts as well,
The anime, drama, and action would all be swell,

But don’t forget the shorts and science fiction,
All the genres are here for our depiction;

Fear, hate, sadness and love,
The emotions of film comes not from above,

But from the hearts and souls of filmmakers anew
Their true passion for art is really but a few.

And I laughed and cried, in spite of myself;
Seeing these films, no dust on the shelf

They’ll endure for life in sound and sight,
“Happy movie watching to all, and to all a good-night.”