An Honest Festival Rejection Letter

I've always contended that film festivals and screenwriting festivals are completely subjective. The work that is accepted or approved isn't always the best work. We've all seen a film that was horrible or read a script that sucked. And we wondered, "How did this piece-o-shit make it through the gatekeepers?"

Ahhh, the Gatekeepers. These folks are the festival programmers, the reviewers, the watchers-of-films, the readers of scripts, etc. They are the ones who give your film a thumbs up or a thumbs down. Quite often they are unaccomplished, overworked festival admin clerks with 200 films to watch or 50 scripts to read. They are looking for a reason to hate your work. Why? Because then you and your crappy script and your dumb-ass film are easily to dismiss. Once you and your film/script are dismissed they can move on to the next victim.

I've always believed that if you catch a festival programmer on a good day with a good film, you're IN. However, if you catch that same programmer on a bad day with a good film, the results are catastrophic for you and your film. Film festivals won't admit to this human element in how they review films. They want us to believe:

• They've truly watched your film
  
• They've watched your film in its entirety
• More than one person reviewed your film
• The festival honestly, truly wanted to accept your film, but...

[cough]* Boolshit!! *[cough] 

It's all bullshit. To wit I offer you this true example of a rejection letter. Screenwriter and book writers know about those robotic form-letter rejections with all the pleasantries and ass-kissing. You know, the rejections letters that try to convince us that the agents, festival programers, readers et al were up late at night, tossing and turning, struggling to find a way to squeeze your film or script or book in. You know, the rejection letter that ultimately wishes you"best of luck" in your career and the next festival or agent to whom you choose to submit your work.

So on to the rejection letter. This is a real rejection letter from a top tier (tier 1 festival). I've submitted my film, The Broken Hearts Club to six film festivals. I'm now 0-6. I've submitted my film to Sundance, SXSW, Slamdance, Palm Springs International, Toronto and the Zero Film Festivals. I always wondered what these festival reviewers were thinking. This one said it all:

Dear Angelo,
 
As the festival programmer of the XXXXXXX Film Festival, I would like to thank you for submitting your work to us, and I truly appreciate your hard work and dedication as an independent filmmaker.  Unfortunately, we are not able to include your film in XXXXX Film Festival 2009.  
 
For the first time in our Festival's history, we received over xxxxx submissions.  While this gives us the unique opportunity to consider work that spans a wide spectrum from around the globe, it certainly doesn't make it any easier to narrow those entries down to an entire program of just over 200 films (half of which are reserved for studio films).  I'm sure it is no consolation to you that we are forced to make these difficult decisions, but I do believe that there certainly is an audience for your film and I anticipate that you will find the appropriate platform for presenting it (read: try another festival, dood).  I regret not being able to include all of the films that we appreciate, but we simply don't have the room.  We look forward to having the opportunity to view your work in the future (read: we'd appreciate your submission fee for next year. 

Not bad, right? It contained the appropriate amount of ass-kissing -- you don't want to piss off the next Steven Spielberg -- and it wished me well. But that wasn't the end of the rejection letter. The rest contained a venomous diatribe full of pained emotion and vitrole. So much so, that I found myself on the floor laughing my ass off.

Here, dear reader, is the post script to the rejection letter:

Thank you again for your romantic comedy. Sorry we couldn’t find a place in our festival for your film at this time, but quite frankly I didn'twant to find a place for your damn film. Why? Because it made me remember that bitch who dumped me six months, two weeks and three days ago. I didn't need your goddamn film bringing back painful memories and I'm sure our esteemed audience doesn't need that shit either. Your film threw me into a tidal wave of despair and hopelessness that not even the finest recreational drugs could free me from. I hate you. I hate the characters in your film. I hate your f--king film! I watched your protagonist and his lover suffer together through tremendous odds–and ultimately find love. WTF? Why can't I find love? Why can't that bitch realize what a good thing she had? I loved her and she kicked me to the curb like a stray puppy. I watched your film and I wanted to put my foot so far up your ass that you'd have to untie my shoe laces to take a shit. You bastard! You mean, egotistical, apathetic bastard! I was appalled. How could you submit such a film to me in my time of pain? No one wants to watch a film where people get together in the end. That's not reality. Filmmaking is about reality, not fiction. Asshole. Asshole-asshole-asshole! Better luck at the next film festival! And just so you know, I'm calling my friends at the other festivals and warning them about your bullshit film. You're not a filmmaker. You're the devil! The devil I say!!

Nice. At least he was honest. After I caught my breath from laughing, wiped the slobber from my mouth and took three Advil to ease the pain in my side (I had stitches from so much laughing) I framed the letter and hung it above my workstation. It serves as a reminder that in this day and age of industry bullshit -- Love ya! Mean it! -- there are some who tell the truth. You just have to make their asses suffer first.