07 KVIFF: Lobsters and Supermodels Kick Start The Fun

Opening night at the festival is a grand affair, with opening ceremonies, a film and lavish party. I, alas, missed the ceremony and the film due to a rather insane jet lag wall I hit at about 4:30pm. A nap was in order if I expected to make the party and due to this one's reputation, making the bash was a must. Most festival opening night parties are a bust (NYFF aside), with precious few actually turning out to be fun but the KVIFF opener is a hot ticket and I made damn sure I was going to be in appropriate party shape. "Black tie" was the order of the evening, but the rules of that particular dress code are interpreted a little differently than they are in the US. Essentially it means suit and tie, but there were a few attendees sans tie and even one notable director in sneakers. He had a film in competition, so I guess they let him slide. At least they were black. ;-) However, I did see one rather miffed gentleman in khakis being turned away at the door.

And As Always, Talk Turns To Footie

At the party, celebs were few and far between, with Renée Zellweger not exactly making the rounds. Opening night director Tom DiCillo was pleased with the generally positive reaction his opening night film, Delirious, received and Icelandic director Baltasar Kormákur (101 Reykjavík, The Sea) was also in attendance. Kormákur is here in competition with his latest, a thriller called Jar City. Can't wait, as he's one of my favorite young directors. We chatted briefly with Greencine's David D'Arcy about the trend of uber violent films making the rounds, including Eli Roth's Hostel 2 and then Kormákur and I got down to the more serious topic of international football (aka soccer). His team is Barcelona, which recently acquired arguably the best striker in the world in Thierry Henry, while mine, Liverpool, is about to close a deal on 23 year-old wunderkind Fernando Torres. There was some question as to where Icelandic striker Eidur Gudjohnsen would end up, now that there doesn't seem to be a place for him in Barcelona's squad. We both decided that Man U would be a good fit, although Newcastle is reportedly also interested.

The food and booze spread at the bash was quite extraordinary, with sushi, lobster, green-lipped mussels, salmon, tuna, paella, pasta, roast beef and more on offer, along with red, white and local sparkling wine (yup, Czech sekt) and of course, beer. Desserts included ice cream (Swiss legend, Mövenpick...yes, they do hotels, too) and two massive fountains of chocolate, milk and white.

Now back to film....sort of. Towards the end of the night, Variety scribe Will Tizard and I were having a chat when we noticed a rather stunning blonde who was being swarmed by the Czech paparazzi. Turns out it was Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue cover model Veronika Vařeková and while I didn't get a very good pic, I did ok, I think. At the end of the night I made my way back to my hotel (more on the oddities of said establishment in future posts) for a nightcap in Hell. Yup. Hell. That's the affectionate nickname (at least I think it's the nickname) That's the name of the dance club in the basement of the Hotel Thermal, my home for the next 8 days. It's got a dance floor made up of squares that light up a la Saturday Night Fever, only this floor is red. Hence, Hell. I had my first Becherovka on the rocks, watched the young ladies (more on Czech women later) dance to some surprisingly good hip hop for a while and went to bed, far too tired to shake my ass. Considering I'd had about 9 hours of sleep in 2 1/2 days, I think I did ok.

Tomorrow: Films. I plan on seeing Monte Hellman's Two-Lane Blacktop and Steven Spielberg's The Sugarland Express, neither of which I have seen, so...PSYCHED!