Balloon headed monkeys mingle with faceless children, talking loaves of bread, and limbless Christmas shoppers. The pick of Icebox for me was definitely this animated short called "Marvelous, Keen Loony Bin", a surreal and exquisitely produced piece of art.
For those who don't know, Icebox is a collection of animation and visual art totaling just over an hour, screened this year at the Kwasuka Theatre as part of the DIFF. This was to be followed by a very well-promoted "party of the year" event involving the Rustpunk crew, at a bit of an unusual venue.
Firstly though, if you're a fan of dark animation, I highly recommend watching this. Each frame was painstakingly hand-drawn and scanned into a computer to create the finished product.
Overall the package of shorts at Icebox was well chosen, although several of the epilepsy-inducing computer generated ones were pretty horrible. Data Flow was definitely a culprit. And so were a few others, that resembled more an acid-induced fit of hysteria than actual visual art.
Speaking of acid, the organisers must surely have dropped a couple of tabs while planning the after-party, which was for all intents and purposes a huge crock of shit.
The venue had a lot of potential, being the floor below the Roma Revolving Restaurant. It's got great views of the harbour and Esplanade, helpful waitrons and a cosy atmosphere. However that potential was wasted on Friday night by a dismal show of planning and preparation.
The projector was balanced on the top of a stack of speakers at an angle to the screen, causing the tiny view area to be warped out across it. This is decidedly amateurish; surely these performers who place emphasis on graphic art could at least get the displaying of said art done correctly? The content being projected wasn't awful, but for some numbers just seemed to be a bunch of clipart pics flying around a white background - not exactly cutting edge stuff.
For some reason, the organisers didn't bring any lighting for the dancefloor. Nothing at all; in fact the only preparation of the venue they did was set up a table, a stack of speakers and plonk down their laptops.
The party started at 9:30pm, and the lights came on at 1:00am as everyone was thrown out. C'mon, you call that a party? There was literally nobody on the dancefloor until after midnight. To make matters worse, the event was hyped up, and I in turn had convinced a friend of mine who was skeptical of the quality of such events to fork out his hard-earned cash and try something different.
Man, were we both disappointed. What was supposed to be a night of stunning visual graphics and awesome tracks turned into a very short night of standing around feeling decidedly irate about our predicament.
The cost of entry, a whopping R40, far outweighed the quality of product inside. I wanted my money back. Hell, I STILL want my money back. If you see those guys tell them they owe me forty bucks.
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