The London Film Festival, in Exhaustively Lengthy and Mildly Crazed Review

So, as many of you have already seen on my facebook profile, this past week was full of red carpet, blurry celebrity photos and wild hysterics on my part. It wasn't easy cramming four premieres, and two screenings, into a week which included a visit from my parents and aunt as well as midterms. In fact, it was pretty freakin' exhausting. But it was totally worth it.

The festival kicked off with Fantastic Mr. Fox. The premiere was listed as 7 and 7:30, so we arrived around 6.

Big mistake.

As we quickly learned, if you're going to stalk a red carpet, you gotta commit. One hour? The celebrity stalking vets would laugh in our faces if they knew. Try two or three hours and THEN we can talk to them. For we were not only unable to get into the main arena where all the autographs happened, we were stuck four rows back from the gate in front of a raised platform that some of the VIPs walked down. Oh and they would turn the other way upon reaching its end. Definitely not ideal, but we were prepared to scream, cry and sing for Meryl Streep when she floated by. Sadly, that moment never came, because Meryl flaked. I later read that she had the flu. Right, "the flu." If by having the flu, you mean having no empathy for your devoted fans who left class early for you, then yeah, you have the flu. (Though I do like Meryl, my outrage is more on behalf of one of my friends, who was absolutely devastated.)

However, towards the end, after neither Wes Anderson nor Jason Schwartzmann had walked by, I looked into the distance and saw something wonderful. "Guys, that's George Clooney," I said. "What?" my friends said. "No it's not, Kristin. What are you talking ab-- GEORGE!" He streaked by in a tux with his Italian Barbie girlfriend and in an instant his beauty, like a shooting star, had disappeared. It was the first really surreal moment of the festival.

The next day was the premiere of The Men Who Stare at Goats, a.k.a. our second shot at seeing George and first try at finding the singing cuteness that is Ewan McGregor. We got there two hours early this time, and were just one row behind the gate, perpendicular to the paparazzi. This time, there was no waiting around while people we didn't know traipsed undeservedly across the red carpet. George was one of the first ones there, and he was really nice to all the fans. I wasn't in a position to ask for an autograph, but I got some close, non-blurry photos of that gorgeous man and looked on with delight as he joked with some of the lucky front rowers. He even came around a second time before posing for the paparazzi and leaving. Oh, and he decided to jokingly "adjust" his suit in front of us before braving the photographers. It resulted in this hilarious photo:

Sadly though, Ewan pulled a Meryl and disappointed us. This one, in my opinion, was even more inexcusable. I don't think he was actually expected to attend, but, dude, you're Scottish! Show some British solidarity/pride.

Neve Campbell and Rachel from S Club 7 also made cameos. It was hella random.

And then this cute old man started making the rounds. I honestly had no idea who he was, but people seemed to be making a big deal about him. "Ask him for his autograph, and we'll find out who he is," my friend said. So I did. When I looked down it said, "John Hurt." I kinda flipped. And then felt extremely embarrassed that I didn't recognize him. (In my defense, he looks wildly different between each of his movies.)

After Men Who Stare at Goats, we got a two-day reprieve from the festival during which I hung out with my parents and aunt. Then on Sunday, the Up in the Air premiere arrived. George had already cancelled, and it was at a much smaller theater, so this one was vastly more low-key. However, we were hoping to meet Michael Bluth Jason Bateman. I'll cut to the chase and tell you that he didn't show up, either (god damn that's a lot of unfulfilled anticipation). However, we did get to meet Vera Farmiga, best known as the two-timing shrink in The Departed, who is coincidentally a Syracuse drama alum.

As she made her way towards us, in some awesome purple heels, we shouted, "We go to Syracuse!" Signing my friend's notebook, she excitedly responded, "You do?!" We explained quickly that we were in the abroad program. She smiled, and I told her I love The Departed (had to) and she left. But before that, I had an even nerdier encounter with a barely-qualifies-as-celebrity figure: Jason Reitman.

The fact that I was able to recognize him already tells you that I like Thank You for Smoking and Juno way too much. But you'd think he was some heartthrob leading man the way I was behaving when he came by. As he signed stuff, I broke out my obligatory, "Can I just say that I love Thank You for Smoking and Juno?!" Now, based on my overall experience this past week, celebrities are so used to compliments on their movies that they might respond with a polite thank you, but that's about it. Jason, however, noticeably changed the tone of his voice and said, "Aw thank you. I hope you like this one, too." Having frantically secured one of the last tickets to the Tuesday Up in the Air screening weeks ago, I had to say, "I can't wait to see it!" That's usually all the conversation you get, but he squeezed in, "It might make you a little sad, though" before moving on. I didn't really know what to say to that, so I giggled. (Also, he was right. But more on that later.)

Finally, on Monday I attended the Bright Star premiere. This was the only one I would attend alone, but by far the most exciting. See, it officially being midterm week, most smart and sane people were studying. Besides, no one extremely famous is in this movie. But I was on a mission to find Ben Whishaw, and I refused to let myself (or his even more loyal fan Tarra) down.

So I waited a few hours. Then, he arrived. I kept my eyes glued to his movements by the press aisle the entire time, waiting for my moment to pounce. I was kinda in between the press and paparazzi aisles, and most of the guests were quickly stopping by our section after being photographed. So as Ben posed for the pictures, my anticipation grew. I had already texted news of his arrival with my hand visibly shaking, and was suppressing the urge to scream. This level of excitement was way more than I had expected, but it's Ben, so it's completely warranted. Anyway, I had been chatting with the guy next to me, who had commented that I didn't have any autographs. "I'm waiting for Ben," I told him. "Well you better scream when he breaks away," he said. "Oh, I so am. You should do it with me." So when Ben finally finished, just minutes before the premiere start time, we both shouted "BEN!" Mine was way louder, and no one else had yelled or even shown much interest in the mesmerizing Mr. Whishaw. He actually turned his head and looked in my direction (AAAAHH) but then was turned around and ushered inside (NOOOOOO).

At this point, my body froze. Did this really just happen? Did I wait for hours, rocking on my feet and patiently watching him talk to press members, for nothing? How could life (and Ben) be so cruel? I was really, really upset, but then some expensive black cars pulled up to the entrance. I had never seen this happen before, and the cars were kept running, so I had to make sure Ben wasn't making a quick exit. After about 25 minutes, I was losing faith and contemplating leaving to go home and cry in a ball on my bed. But then I saw him in the hall. He opened the door and walked outside, and I wasn't taking any chances. I screamed his name again, and he promptly continued walking STRAIGHT TOWARDS ME. "Sorry I didn't stop earlier," he said. "Oh it's fine," I said in a state of utter delirium. I asked him if he could sign something for me. Pitifully, all I had was my planner. I opened to a page in July of this year and handed him my cheesy SU Abroad pen, saying, "Sorry, this is all I have." He said it was fine (!) and then said something magical, "What's your name?" Probably blushing and definitely screaming on the inside, I told him it was Kristin and spelled it out for him when he hesitated. As he was signing, I had to whip out, "I think you're fantastic by the way." Didn't even mention a movie that time. Nope, it was just about him. He said thank you. Again, I was delirious, so I was far from done and added as he moved to the next person, "It's a shame more people don't know you in the States!"

For a sec after that, I was extremely scared that I had insulted Ben Whishaw. I mean, he could take that as a back-handed compliment, right? Like, "sucks that no one knows you, man." But I meant that he's so wonderful that his lack of mega-stardom is inexcusable! Luckily, I think I was alright, as Ben didn't say much to anyone (aw, he's shy) and thus I didn't make much of his non-response.

I quickly peeked at my planner and saw, to my astonishment, the inscription, "To Kristin. With love, Ben Whishaw." I was already freaking out that he had asked my name (not one celebrity at the festival had done that for anyone so far), but he added "with love"! You all know what that means: he's legitimately in love with me. Mission accomplished.

Ben did speak once more, saying to the crowd, "Thank you for waiting out in the cold," with a slight, embarrassed, "I feel guilty" chuckle, which was incredibly endearing. And he let us take some pictures. Then, he disappeared into the black car and was gone. But I was over the moon. Too bad no one else gave a damn (except for the guy next to me, I had to explain to basically the entire group that he was the star of the movie...and they were all British). Whatever, it was their loss. My autograph is now proudly tacked to my bulletin board, and I am currently praying to every god in every religion known to man that he does not recognize me when I wait after his play, too, and see me for the massive creep that I am.

Wow, sorry that was so long, guys. (Despite the title, I really didn't realize I was blabbing about Ben Whishaw so much until I hit "preview.") But look out for part 2, in which I review Up in the Air and Bright Star, after I return from fall break on November 1!