If there is one thing I love more than anything else that has ever been created in the entire history of the universe, it’s hyperbole, and the New York Asian Film Festival was the most hyperbolic movie-watching experience I have ever had in my life. Before I even got there I was gripped with fear about being revealed as a poseur, because I have a great love of Asian culture but don’t actually speak any other language but English. Well, as I’d expected, many people there spoke Korean, Chinese, and Japanese, meaning they laughed at jokes and comments well before I was up to speed, but that wasn’t nearly the most hardcore element of the festival. I’m a longtime convention goer so I am used to cosplay (a.k.a. costume role-play), but I certainly didn’t expect anyone to dress up for the NYAFF, which they did with gusto. (Although, to play devil’s advocate, maybe they weren’t costumes at all, and the fans I saw just always walk around with swords strapped to their side and back. If I had a katana, and could legally carry it, I know I would.)

The whole fabulously off-kilter experience actually started with waiting in line. This being New York City, I naturally kept one eye on the guys with the swords, but at the same time, NYAFF staff members were going up and down the line handing out little slips of paper. The first was a slip that you were supposed to use to rate your movie on a scale from “Ah! My eyes!” to “My brain will never be the same!” I still don’t know which one was supposed to mean “good.” The second was a slip of paper on which you were meant to write down your name for a chance to win “good or not so good” prizes. I had heard that one of the “not so good” prizes was that you would get splattered by blood during an onscreen action sequence, so I was really hoping for that. My enthusiasm only increased when a random guy — outside the adult-toy shop the movie line happened to pass — announced, “I won tickets to porn!,” which was also an acceptable prize in my opinion.

It was then that we were funneled into the theater, and though the IFC center isn’t particularly big, and though it doesn’t look like anything other than a normal theater on the outside, its interior was decked out quite impressively. Posters for all the festival’s Asian flicks were up everywhere, with signed photos of actors and directors (which were later given away) on doors and walls. It was quite immersive, considering that the actual walk from the door to the theater was nothing more than a few feet. It certainly doesn’t have as much atmosphere (excluding its cavelike labyrinth of bathrooms) as the Japan Society, where the second half of the festival will be shown, but the theaters are bigger and the seats are the most comfortable things I have sat on in ages. The front of every theater was also set up with posters and a makeshift stage so that actors and directors could host their Q and As. The staff was friendly and helpful too, and although the atmosphere alone doesn’t really sell the NYAFF, it certainly does make the experience more immersive. So I was extremely excited when a staff member ran up to the stage to introduce the first film I would be seeing, Dachimawa Lee.

Read Dachimawa Lee Review

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