CAMPOUT: A Rehoboth Journal
Pecker is Popular! And Other Scoops from the Rehoboth Film Fest

Once that Dewey bunker of rampant heterosexuality was suitably decorated, they were off!

While I couldn’t get to town for the Thursday night kick-off party featuring director John Waters, I did get to interview him by phone. What a hoot. Yes, some answers were unprintable, but I found him to be a thoroughly likable fellow. I hear that his speech at the party was a hilarious stand-up comedy routine, with a pause or two to give folks time to translate some of the more obscure, um, references for some local officials and the elderly. "Yes, Mom, tea-bagging is when a male stripper, er, um...."

As for the Film Fest itself, Barry Becker, Rob Rector, the Festival Board and volunteers should be cheered and exalted for a great job planning, organizing and launching a fabulous event.

Initially, I was worried. My taste in films is, well, orthodox. I thought The English Patient was edgy; Contact baffled me despite starring Jody Foster. My name is Fay Jacobs and I like The Sound of Music.

Then there’s my personal neurosis scale. Besides the G, PG-13 & R ratings, I use IGS (It’s Got Snakes) and OY (Old Yeller). The latter comprises the "when-bad-things-happen (or might happen)-to-good-animals" category. Show me a movie where an animal is in danger and I’ll show you a blubbering 50-year-old. I had to be medicated after Babe.

So with some trepidation I scoured the festival schedule. The shorts were out (IGS) and I knew better than to try the movie about the boy and his dog (OY). But about 90 films remained. Could I actually sit through two films in a row? More????

Day One, Friday—my personal best—three consecutive movies. Great crowds, impressive diversity; a wonderfully busy Rehoboth Beach Mall!

I saw Wonderland—a quirky, funny documentary about Levittown, N.Y., the nation’s first planned community and Love & Death on Long Island—a sweet trifle about a British writer’s obsession with a hunky movie star—terrific performance by John Hurt.

Before the 10 p.m. show we all lined up for the hot ticket of the night—John Water’s Pecker. That would be John Waters film Pecker.

As we thronged in anticipation, a festival volunteer, eager to see things run smoothly called out, "Everybody here for Pecker?" The double entendre was hardly out of her mouth (ooh, I think there’s something puny lurking there too...) when she realized what she’d said and howled in laughter. Several lesbians felt compelled to clarify that they hadn’t been in line for pecker for some time. Latecomers continued the game by asking, "Is this the line for Pecker?" You can imagine the comments.

As for Pecker—the film, despite Waters’ reputation, it was positively unshocking. Well, there was that tea bagging thing...But, it’s really a love letter to Baltimore, with fetching characters, hilarious situations and a great big poke in the eye to the hoity-toity N.Y. art world. Imagine this particular columnist telling you she loves Pecker...

On Day 2, I saw two wonderful films amid HUGE crowds. The second was a festival highlight, Lilies. And for me, it really pushed the envelope. Who’d have thunk I’d enjoy a film about a play produced in a prison—and that was the orthodox part. It was a gorgeous tale of love and revenge, shot beautifully and very, very affecting. I hope it’s available for rental soon so everyone who missed the festival can check it out.

But my favorite was Late Bloomers—a charming look at a math teacher and PTA Mom discovering sapphic sisterhood. I can’t tell you what was better, the movie (clever, funny, refreshing, sensual and just plain feel good) or sitting at the Rehoboth Mall in a theater brimming with lesbians. But don’t get me wrong, there was plenty of diversity, with many, many of our brothers, and applauding straight-but-not-narrows, too. If you missed Late Bloomers, it’s out on video and Lambda Rising has it; wait till you see the nude, one-on-one basketball. Ya-ha! Although, I’d fear accidentally dribbling certain body parts if I tried it.

On Sunday, it was more movies and more Visine, capped by the documentary Rock The Boat—an inspiring story of a crew of HIV infected men, sailing in a grueling Pacific race from California to Hawaii—watch for it on HBO next year. With the film makers—the director/cameraman and the producer—on hand to answer questions, it was a wonderful treat.

In fact, the whole festival was a treat. Films as diverse as the audiences. And the festival brought an energetic, sophisticated crowd to Rehoboth (kind of like the previous week’s Chunkin’ thing, ya know), proved that "The Barry and Rob Show" knows its logistics (the thing went off with the precision of a NASA launch) and seems to have started a terrific tradition on which we can build.

In the end, I have but a few observations.

1. Next year maybe they could host food vendors in the Mall. Despite it being representative of the dairy and vegetable food groups, it’s difficult to survive all day on buttered popcorn. The man in front of me invented "The All Twizzler Diet." Before the last film on Friday night, I ran to the just-closing Super Fresh and purchased something that was neither super nor fresh (owing to the hour, no reflection on the store). Fortunately I’m more adventurous with food than film, and chanced 12-hour old sushi.

2. To minimize blood clots and maximize local revenue, Barry should have Konrad Noebel, Kathleen Donelan, Greg Myers and other Rehoboth massage therapists give five-minute seated massages in the mall between shows. And there should be Mall jogging. More than one person lamented that popcorn plus Pepsi plus sitting still for six hours produced enough natural gas to heat Milford this winter. It’s a good thing for the festival there’s no smoking anymore.

3. While the first annual Rehoboth Beach Independent Film Festival was a resounding success, the most remarkable public service feature of the festival has been totally overlooked: for the first time since who knows when, people were free to sit in the Mall theaters, waiting for the start of their movies, without having to stare at those endlessly looping movie trivia slides. You know, where every answer is One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest. Now that’s an accomplishment. Way to go, Rehoboth Beach Film Society.