Film festivals aren’t historically known for their accessibility. To many, the words conjure a glitzy and glamorous event replete with red carpet and celebrity guests, or a hipster-packed theatre where everyone knows more about auteur cinema than you. Still, if you’re a film lover, festivals are a highpoint of the year where you can connect with like-minded cinephiles and finally see that indie hit everyone’s been tweeting about. Festivals can be incredible tools to connect audiences with cinema, from mainstream Oscar-bait masterpieces to obscure independent gems. However, the price of tickets, niche advertising, a lack of equal access for disabled film-goers, and the high-brow or snobbish reputations of these events lend a sense of unapproachability to film festivals.. Access for disabled cinephiles is improving thanks to activists and groups like Arts Access Victoria. Still, festivals have been criticised for their resistance to open captioning, and their continued use of physically inaccessible venues like Melbourne’s The Forum. So what happens when COVID forces film festivals to adopt perhaps the most accessible method of delivery – online streaming?
It would seem like one upside of the COVID age is a turn to online film festivals; taking part is as easy as clicking play on your TV or laptop on the couch. Watchers are free from judgemental Tarantino stans and grandmas loudly opening lollies over the quiet emotional moments. However, perhaps unsurprisingly, the festival circuit so far is as chaotic as anything else in 2020. The crown jewel of film events, Festival de Cannes, was cancelled, to the dismay of the global film community. Some festivals, like Venice, have determinedly offered their films in person, opting to slim down their usual program to facilitate distancing. Others, like London’s BFI Film Festival and Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), will take a more measured approach, including some in-person screenings and more online. Yet more, like the Melbourne International Film Festival (MIFF), offered a smaller festival exclusively online.
Attending MIFF’s jauntily named ‘681/2’ festival was a balm in a cold, isolated August. Festival organisers opted to have the majority of the program available to stream for the length of the festival, with some key films only available at set times, to simulate the sense of community created while watching together in the theatre. Watching the opening movie in sync with people across Australia did provide some of the cinema-style connection I had been craving in lockdown, though it turns out I missed the hipsters and loud grannies more than I predicted. Despite the circumstances, this year’s festival achieved some long-term goals, likely due to this new method of delivery. They had their largest closing night ever, and have, as their report states, ‘realised our long-held aspiration of gender parity in our programming, with 59 of the festival’s 118 films (50%) having at least one female director attached to them’. While it’s a shame that gender parity didn’t play out in the packed theatres of Melbourne, where it could receive the full fanfare it deserves, this is still a positive achievement, and one that many other film festivals are yet to claim. The record-breaking turnout on closing night is likely due to the ease of attendance, as well as the lack of ticket limitations due to theatre size. However, MIFF did restrict tickets to all of its showings, with several selling out. I initial met this with incredulity – a streaming video selling out? – but, rather than an attempt to mimics the scarcity of sought-after seats at gala screenings, this limit reflects licensing agreements with distributors. Of course, it’s harder to reconcile the disappointment of missing out on tickets when the potential audience limit is technically infinite.
International film festivals have been facing similar challenges with restricted access to events from press and audiences alike. Emerging and established critics took to Twitter to mourn their rejections for TIFF press accreditation. Notebook, the daily film publication of streaming site Mubi, was denied accreditation after 12 years of covering the festival. While some of the rejected journalists were ultimately offered accreditation, the initial snubs sent the message that the festival was reluctant to use this unprecedented ease of access to include new critics, particularly those whose voices are underrepresented in film criticism. Somewhat ironically given this reticence, film festivals like TIFF were forced into more diverse programs this year due to the more blockbuster titles opting to delay release until after cinemas reopen. In a year where fewer ‘big ticket’ films were on show, independents, documentaries and even the oft-forgotten short film programs have had space to shine. Both internationally and here in Australia, festivals have changed in many ways for the better from their move online.
Many film festivals have lengthy statements about access and inclusion proudly displayed on their websites and programs, promising to open up film to everyone. Given this commitment to accessibility, it’s interesting that a pandemic was the only way most festivals would offer their films online. 2020’s online film festivals felt somewhat incomplete, but only because we expected the usual in-person offerings of the past several decades. Perhaps this venture into online delivery will illustrate just how many people would attend film festivals if given the opportunity. Maybe online offerings in some form are here to stay. I’m hoping film festivals will take the accessibility lesson to heart, and that the festivals of 2021 and beyond, however they come, will be better for it.
Caitlin Wilson has recently completed her honours in screen studies and is now studying a Master of Arts and Cultural Management. She is a horror film tragic fascinated by screen culture. Her work can be read on Flip Screen, Rough Cut and Mascara Literary Journal, among others.