San Francisco International Film Festival

“The Days of Mallrats are over.”

By Sara Schieron

One of the most beautiful women on earth, the dirty siren that swayed the once family-oriented director Robert Rodriguez, and possibly the future Barbarella, Rose McGowan is set to enter the W Hotel’s “Red” Carpet alongside feckless, nice guy Jason Lee. The two are receiving the SFIFF’s Midnight Award for (let’s be honest) indie-cred.

After the brief award ceremony (in which the Film Society’s head of the board downright pimped fest director Graham Leggat: “he likes brunettes”) the rest of the evening was Grey Goose infused schmoozing.

Looking back to the sober part of the evening, the short reels of McGowan and Lee’s work really echoed Lee’s concise but effecting statement that “The Days of Mallrats are over.” SFIFF is not famous for its accidents, particularly in the last three years since Leggat’s instatement as director. McGowan and Lee are known for their ascending careers, both bolstering “the little film that could” and bolstered by that “little film.” The tricky and underlying message here (intended or otherwise) is that the time is over for those “little films.” Lee’s on a major TV show (My Name is Earl) and McGowan is still hot off Grindhouse, which is not only made by one of those “little film” makers grown up but is a tongue in cheek throwback/homage to “little” as an industry. Now she’s bound to be Barbarella and that’s far from small: Future be damned.

Maybe the Doom Generation grew up but it’s hard to believe we’re done Chasing Amy, extra-specially when every festival has become an out on a hunt of writers whispering the mantra “Where’s Juno. But then, foretelling the future here is perfectly un-zen. Like the zen master (by way of Phillip Seymour Hoffman in Charlie Wilson’s War) said, “We’ll see.”