Introducing: Bites, Camera, Fashion

Let me introduce myself. My name is Davey McNelly. I like films. Not blockbusters, not films that are on billboards or based on a sci-fi book series, or on your YouTube ads. And certainly not movies with superheroes. 

I like art films, foreign films, subtitles, slow-moving films that get at the nature of human existence. My favorite living writer is Anthony Lane, the film critic for the New Yorker. In short, I am a snob.

And I like food. Popcorn makes me cough, which is related to my disability; I use a wheelchair and it also affects my lungs. So why not kill two birds with the same stone? Naturally, I take entire dinners into theaters and eat them in the dark while watching movies. Then I judge myself in the mirror on the way home as to how many new stains I have created on whatever my fashion choice for that evening was. 

Bites, Camera, Fashion. Does this make sense now?

So there I am: Davey. We’ve established I am disabled, like films, and make poor choices while trying to simplify my life. Nice to meet you. I truly hope you’re better off than me and making better life choices. And yes, this column was also inspired by Queen Tracey Maine.

Unfortunately, it is also inspired by ableism. 

I am reviewing the Athens International Film + Video Festival and what I saw, along with the Athena Cinema’s ableism. In its 51st year, AIFVF went from April 8-14. I went to three different screenings.

I have been to AIFVF many times over the years. It is a great place to see things that are creative, imaginative and playful. I want to be challenged by what art can be, taken into others’ minds, and made to feel something, dammit.

Some notable films that I enjoyed were: 

“The Night Visitors,” a documentary by Michael Gitlin, which was a non-linear film about the process of caterpillars becoming moths, mothing (which is shining a light at a white sheet at night and then seeing what moths come along, like weary visitors), and invasive species of moths. We have so many invasive species of various insects due to human hubris — in this case the spongy moth, which was brought to the United States by Frenchman Leopold Trouvelot. He was trying to cross-breed a silkworm with the moth to have a New England-winter resistant moth. He failed miserably and eventually returned home to France. The spongy moth stayed, spreading steadily since the late 1800s and is coming soon to a forest near you. 

To eat during this film, I brought in a Spicy Tuna burrito from Fusion Noodle. It had a nice blend of spice and sweetness, and I didn’t spill a single thing on my blue sweater my ex-wife’s father got me 15 years ago. My partner Laura was impressed. I highly recommend eating burritos during films to reduce chances of spillage.

Another favorite was a short film by Josh Vieth called “In and Around Athens,” showing panoramic shots of some of your favorite Athens places such as The Ridges and Court Street. Then various people living in Athens talk about things they like and don’t like about it. They complain about there not being enough food options, seeing the same people all the time, and the Athens Bubble™. Others laud the beauty and people. Meanwhile, the camera starts spinning, faster and faster. A droning noise starts to drown out the voices. Theatergoers closed their eyes and plugged their ears, while I laughed out loud. What a great metaphor for the same cyclical thoughts I hear every year from friends who can’t decide what they want. I asked my friend Lauren for a cough drop to soothe me, and it did.

“Light Needs,” a documentary by Jesse McLean, is a film that I will be thinking about for a long time. It was about house plants, which probably induces stress in you just thinking about it. Have you watered your plants? Do they have enough light? Have you noticed them at all recently? You’re in charge of keeping yet another living thing alive. 

Honestly, a lot of parts of the film were too esoteric and hipster and twee. A young man with bare feet stepping over plants and sitting on a chair over and over did not work, along with a couple arguing about what to do about a dying houseplant. 

But my favorite part was about a librarian who had been working at the same library in New York for decades. Some plants he had been taking care of for over 20 years. As the panning shots got tighter and tighter, and as the librarian continued to share about his schedule, and as the plants got taller and ran out of room, I thought more and more about the abundance of life and how precious it is, no matter how or where it’s lived. In nature, or in the same room. We all need care. And that man cares about his plants.

Which leads me to my next point: Ableism. One version of ableism is things not being accessible. If you’ve ever been disabled, you know this one, especially if you’ve tried to get around Uptown Athens. Nothing is ADA-compliant. Sidewalks are potholed, crosswalks have missing bricks and aren’t repaired, and curb cuts often have such high lips that they are unusable. 

The Athena has a push-button door, which is accessible, and an elevator. But it has no ADA-accessible seating. In fact, last year at the 50th AIFVF when I attended Saturday morning short films  with my kids (a yearly tradition), we were at first denied seating in the only area where there could be accessible seating by the manager of the theater, who was sitting in what should be the accessible area and refused to move, despite there being plenty of open seats. 

I emailed after, and she did apologize, but said they have only “open seating,” which is in clear violation of the Americans with Disabilities Act. I emailed back offering this information, as part of my work with the Athens City Commission on Disabilities, and also emailed the new ADA coordinator for the university. And I’ve heard crickets. I shouldn’t have been surprised when I went back to the Athena Cinema for the festival and found no changes, but I was. I want to believe people and institutions can change, like a caterpillar to a moth, but I am left disappointed when I close my eyes for too long.