Several years ago, some high school film geeks with whom I not-so-accidentally fell into acquaintance made a short indie thing they decided to title "Blame Guy Maddin." The story goes that the original name was to be "Misinterpreted Art Film." Funnily enough, that is exactly what it became, as it claims to be a neo-Maddin but as it turns out, no one involved in its making had ever actually seen Maddin's work. Not that it isn't a good watch. It is. I enjoyed it.
Anyways, thinking my filmsnobby friend had been inspired by the arguable genius of the acclaimed alternative Canadian filmmaker, I invited the former to a special live screening of Maddin's My Winnipeg. The "docu-fantasia," was all the more personal hearing Maddin narrate it live on stage. Yaaaay Guy Maddin!! *throws flowers onto the stage* I really enjoyed what Maddin said about filmmaking helping him escape Winnipeg. He said that by making the film, his obsessions of Winnipeg became just a series of shots that he had to produce, it became work, and it became boring. I wonder if this could be at the heart of therapy: work the issue to death until you become sick of it and can't even bare to consider it anymore.