"You're welcome to watch the speech, but if you want to eat dinner, you're going to have to pay," the representative for Cineposium, an annual convention of film commissioners, tells me when I ask to come see the event's keynote speaker, director Arthur Hiller. Cineposium is a big industry event, holding this year's edition, the 28th, in Las Vegas for the first time.
Film commissioners, mostly government workers who entice everything from commercials to feature films to shoot in their native locales, are industry insiders with the clout and cash to bring a venerable figure like Hiller, former president of the Directors Guild of America and the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (a.k.a. the Oscar people), to speak at their gathering. Las Vegas has always been a draw for conventions, but it makes sense that Cineposium is being held here for the first time for other reasons: Hollywood loves Las Vegas these days, with Sin City-set reality and scripted TV shows, and a steady stream of Vegas-related movies.
The Cineposium dinner is a nice, catered affair in a ballroom at the Aladdin. Waiters scurry about filling wine glasses and delivering tasteful meals to the more than 100 guests. It looks more like your typical corporate convention than a gathering of film buffs, which becomes even more evident when Hiller takes the stage. At 80, he seems a little creaky but still perfectly alert. Rather than a speech, the program is a conversation between Hiller and Robin Holabird of the Nevada Film Commission. It reminds me of watching Inside the Actors Studio with fawning host James Lipton. Holabird keeps resolutely on point, asking Hiller to talk about his use of locations (obviously the one topic of interest among film commissioners), but the guy is, let's face it, a bit of a hack. Most famous for directing Love Story (about which he shares some interesting anecdotes), Hiller has more recently been responsible for fare like the Tom Arnold comedy Carpool. His next project is a National Lampoon film starring Jon Bon Jovi.
"Is it just me, or is this boring?" whispers a woman next to me as the talk approaches the hour mark. Several people leave discreetly. Once again, it's clear that these are not cineastes. They're marketing people, behind-the-scenes players who are more interested in how to entice big productions to their home base than in the craft of filmmaking.
A few days later I'm at another film industry reception, this one at which I'm allowed to partake in the food options. It's a panel for NeonFest, a gay and lesbian film festival held at Neonopolis. I've been invited to participate in a discussion on gay and lesbian cinema, along with a few other film experts, including Holabird. In a back room upstairs at Jillian's, about 20 people have gathered for a brunch buffet and a conversation to culminate the three-day festival. Unlike industry insider events, film festivals have a shaky foothold in Vegas, with one hard-won success (CineVegas), and plenty of smaller failures. NeonFest president Bill Fisher tells me that the festival had 120 attendees for its opening night and 500 at screenings the following day. Admission is free, but these are still encouraging numbers.
Unlike the Cineposium crowd, this group is clearly interested in what the speakers have to say. Even getting something small like this festival off the ground is an impressive feat, both for the local gay community and the indie-film crowd. As much as the film industry embraces Vegas as a place to hold events and shoot movies, the Vegas community has yet to embrace the quirkier sides of cinema, with many independent films passing the town by, or opening and closing on one screen within a single week. In big film towns like LA and New York, mainstream and independent film exist comfortably side by side; here the balance is a little more lopsided.
Although none of the panelists are as illustrious as Arthur Hiller, there's a greater degree of interest on the part of the audience. Moderator Marc Breindel, producer of KNPR 89.5-FM's State of Nevada program, refers to me several times as "hip," which I think must be a euphemism for either "young" or "straight." I do my best to sound knowledgeable about gay cinema, hoping mostly that I won't say anything moronic or offensive. The small audience asks questions and seems engaged in the program. Afterward, several people congratulate me on speaking well.
The attention is nice, but the event is so insular that I wonder if it's really making an impact. There's no way to say, really, whether Vegas will surpass its current status as an occasional Hollywood annex and become a place where film culture, of all types, thrives. To make it there, though, we'll need more of both industry events with boring but respectable speakers, and festivals that highlight the efforts of independent filmmakers.