In Which the Author Takes a Roofy

Yesterday began in a pink and gold haze. Ebertfest director Nate Kohn humored my epic crush and sat me next to Rufus Sewell on a panel in which some other filmmakers, actors, and writers who are not Rufus also participated. Rufus muttered two very, very amusing jokes under his breath, poured water in his glass, and commented upon what I wrote in my notepad. He studied his iPhone surreptitiously. He scratched his nose twice and generously laughed at three of my own jokes. He then fondled the soap bubbles inexplicably placed in front of all the panelists. He nibbled at not one but two chocolate cookies. Significantly less of note: the death knoll for American attention spans was rung; the merits of bothering to watch film on small screens were debated; filmmakers bemoaned their decades-long, soul-breaking quests for budgets and distribution. Rufus disclosed in a breathtaking moment that he had recently opted to work in theater rather than film. He then raised his eyebrows when I named the gossip publication where I toil and I pointed out that an Arabian Nights stint was not exactly Shakespeare. We then made up and rode into the sunset ever so awesomely.

Actually, the panel — which also included Tom DiCillo (Delirious), film critic Roger Roeper, Timothy Spall, Joseph Greco (Canvas), Jeff Nichols (Shotgun Stories), Eran Kolirin (The Band's Visit), Bill Forsyth (Housekeeping), and producer Adam Hammel (Canvas) — proved lively and well-moderated by Kohn, if he could just learn to speak a little less emphatically. The dude puts the B in subtle.