Overview
Here is my fondest memory of Tropfest.
My friend, let's call him M, was minding his own business when he was approached by a yeti-man. With more beard than face, this gangly humanoid lolled out of the crowd of picnicking filmgoers and growled at M. Perhaps too kind for his own good, or otherwise distracted by the kitten-like growth hovering on the Thing's shoulder, M engaged in conversation for a few minutes. Once sated by his taste of human voice, the hunched, hirsute cat-owner grabbed a beer and vanished back into the ocean of people.
Moments later, as the awards were being handed out, M could only stare on in wonder as his recent friend charged onto stage, M's beer in hand, miaowing cat on shoulder, and grabbed the microphone. In his moment of glory, watched by thousands, the shaggy prophet could muster only three magical words:
"Fuck John Howard"
Support your local film-makers. Open your mind to risk-taking innovation. Have a picnic with friends as summer sails away, in the glow of high-definition shorts.
Meet crazy cat men and enjoy their political banter.
That's the way Tropfest should always be.
