Yes, yes, I'm still in Austin. I'm like that annoying loser who refuses to leave the party even though your girlfriend is clearly vacuuming and it's slowly getting sunny outside. (I actually stayed a few days longer so I could visit with some good friends, if you must know!) Anyway, it just dawned on me that even though we've brought you tons of SXSW coverage, you're still missing out on one very important component: The intro shorts! Every festival has 'em. They're brief mini-flicks that introduce the festival, credit the sponsors, and basically set the tone for the screening. (Sometimes.)

SXSW has always had some good "intro shorts" (my favorite is an old, strange one with Jeff Goldblum), but this year they were particularly amusing. They were put together by Mike Mitchell, Kent Osborne, Dan Brown, and Charlie Sotelo (among others) -- and through the magical power of "embedding," you can enjoy them without visiting some grungy other website. We'll start with my favorite:


Obviously this is a spoof of good ol' Glengarry Glen Ross, but by the time the film festival was winding down, me and my movie-geek posse were quoting this short non-stop and chuckling like morons. ("Brass balls!" Ha!) Check out the rest of the promos right after the jump!

Some movie plots are so basic that they "seem to write themselves," and in the case of the simple-yet-charming Young @ Heart, we have a documentary that pretty much writes itself. It's such a basically appealing concept -- a choir full of (very) old people spend their free time singing rock tunes for some very appreciative crowds -- that all you'd need is a guy with a camera and some sound equipment to capture the footage. And that's pretty much what Young @ Heart is: a slight but well-polished documentary about an inherently worthwhile story.

Northampton, Massachussetts is where you'll find the Young @ Heart crew singing their hearts out. Under the guidance of choir director Bob Cilman, the Y@H chorus is comprised of some seriously sprightly senior citizens. Even the ones who can't move around all that well are so passionately devoted to the group that just their participation is slightly inspiring. As the films opens, we're invited to meet some of the choir's more colorful singers, and we tag along as the crew gets ready for a big-time concert at the Academy Theater.

Kim and Erik are long gone, but a bunch of your sexy Cinematicaleers are still knee-deep in SXSW awesomeness. Peter and Jette have been seeing tons of flicks, Snider and I have been trying to do the same (but man oh man do I stay up late!), and all the while ... Austin has been invaded by thousands of music-type people. But we wanted to take a break from the documentaries, the dramas, and the mumblecorings, so four of us (namely: Eric Snider, William Goss, Eugene Novikov and myself) decided to trek towards a multiplex and take in a screening of Doomsday, since it opened today.

For those who don't worship at the altar of Genre Film, I'll remind you that Doomsday is the third feature from Neil Marshall -- after Dog Soldiers and The Descent. Sir Snider will be reviewing the film very soon (while my review will appear at FEARnet), but I do know he liked the film pretty well. I, however, was clapping my hands with childlike glee at every well-timed punch, kick, quip, bullet-hole, and explosion. A great musical score, excellent pacing, a few kick-ass action scenes, an amusing and unpretentious attitude, and no B.S. time-wastin' blah-blah-blah junk.

Then we spent about 2.5 hours trying to travel the half-dozen miles from the theater to my hotel, because apparently the music festival has called DIBS on every taxi in Austin. But I saw a fun movie with good pals, plus I stopped at a book store and bought a new horror compilation from Richard Laymon. Oooh, and we ate at Arby's! And now ... back to the festival!

The wonderful artworks of Isaiah Zagar are scattered all across South Philadelphia, and I should know because I've seen 'em hundreds of times. (Start at 4th & South Street!) Gigantic murals peppered with brightly colored tiles and thousands of mirror shards ... and when you step back from the massive murals (or if you peer in real close), Mr. Zagar's artworks hit you with all sorts of strange new details. I think that native Philadelphians probably take these exhibits for granted, but I think they're the coolest sort of art imaginable: Vibrant, emotional, perpetually evolving masterpieces.

But before last week, I had NO IDEA who created all these awesome pieces. Then I read the plot synopsis for a documentary called In a Dream. You're telling me that all these fantastic walls were done by one guy? Wow.

Anyone who read Volume I of How Scott (Almost Never) Got to Austin for SXSW might have noticed that I was slightly ... irked at American Airlines, when in fact I SHOULD have been unloading my blogular umbrage upon the guys at the Dallas Fort Worth airport who are in charge of watching the morning weather report. Seriously, 40+ flights and a whole LOT of people were royally screwed because nobody thought to have the de-icing machines warmed up when the words "freezing rain" were mentioned. (So I offer an apology to American Airlines, partially because it wasn't really their fault, but mostly because I'm flying American HOME in a couple days, and I don't want to catch any stewardess stink-eye.)

But whatever. I've been in Austin for almost a week now, so that miserable trek from six days ago seems like nothing more than a infuriating little memory. I did, however, promise a Part 2, so let's pick up where we left off...

I'd been informed that A) my flight had been canceled (after I'd been sitting on the plane for nearly five hours), B) there were no hotels or rental cars available from anywhere within the airport, and C) my luggage and I would not be seeing each other for a day or two. Fun little note: My suitcase -- OK, fine, my massive red duffel bag that my sister got for free from Marlboro -- contained items like: my phone charger, my laptop charger, and my herpes medication.

I have no idea why the word "documentary" has somehow been connected with the word "boring" over the past several decades, but I see lots of VERY entertaining docos as part of my festival exploits. Oh sure, the Oscar-givers like to focus on the "important" documentaries that deal with stuff like war, sex, religion, abortion and the Holocaust, but if you know where to look, you can find stacks of docos that are more than content to focus on issues that are A) light, B) amusing, or C) musical. (Here's a hint on where to look: Film festivals like SXSW.)

Paul Owens' Blip Festival: Reformat the Planet covers A, B and C, although it's focused mainly on the third option: Music. Specifically, music that is created by a small but passionate group of misfits who create some fantastic tunes using nothing but (ready for it?) old-school video game consoles! Yep, that goofy old Super Mario Bros. jingle can be turned into one kick-ass techno tune in the right hands, and these unapologetic gaming geeks seem to be having a great time turning great old games into funky new tunes.

When a movie shows up and takes a clear political stance, I find it's easier to judge its successes and / or shortcomings than when a flick dips a toe into the pool of social commentary and just waggles it around for a few minutes -- which probably explains why I both enjoyed and respected Mark Webber's Explicit Ills, an Altman-esque indie drama that has something to say about poverty, health care, and the importance of basic human kindness.

Brief, honest, and admirably to-the-point, Explicit Ills follows a group of seemingly unrelated South Philadelphia folks who try to lead normal, happy, anonymous lives -- but their station on the lower rung of the income scale means that even the most basic requirements remain frustratingly out-of-reach. (In one key scene, an excellent Rosario Dawson is denied asthma medicine for her sick little boy -- because she cannot afford the $55 price tag.) Alternate plot threads involve a pair of young druggies in love, a mega-clean couple who aim to open a health food store, and a cocky adolescent who (slowly) learns how to treat a lady.

Welcome to the 2008 SXSW Awards Presentation! With much help from unpaid Cinematintern Willy Goss, we bring you the award winners LIVE!!

6:38pm -- Will announces that there's a pigeon loose inside the building. No awards just yet.

6:42pm -- Goss has some texting issues as the shorts winners are announced. We'll get 'em up ASAP.

6:54pm -- In the documentary competition, They Killed Sister Dorothy takes the grand prize, while a special jury prize goes to Full Battle Rattle.

6:59pm -- Narrative Feature / Special Jury Prize for Cinematography: Explicit Ills. Special Jury for Ensemble: Up with Me. Narrative Grand Jury Prize: Wellness.

7:06pm -- Audience Awards!! (Emerging Visions category) In a Dream. Audience Doco Pick: They Killed Sister Dorothy.

7:10pm -- Audience Award for Narrative Feature: Explicit Ills! Congrats to Mark Webber and company!

After the jump: All the other awards!!

A few days ago I enjoyed a very conventional comedy called Run Fatboy Run. The film succeeds (to a B-minus degree, anyway) thanks almost exclusively to the contributions of actors like Simon Pegg, Dylan Moran, and Hank Azaria. When you have talented people lugging familiar material around, the result can sometimes be unexpectedly amusing. Such is most definitely the case with Nick Stoller's Forgetting Sarah Marshall, a semi-romantic comedy that covers some of the same ground as The Break-Up and The Heartbreak Kid but does one thing differently: It delivers a lot of laughs.

Produced by the recently very prolific Judd Apatow (The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Knocked Up, Superbad), Forgetting Sarah Marshall stars one of the producer's regulars (Jason Segel, who also penned the screenplay) as a TV music composer who is madly in love with his "hot actress" girlfriend. (Her name is Sarah Marshall, obviously.) But when Sarah dumps Peter for a preening British rock star, the sensitive slob of a guy goes into an emotional tailspin. At the advice of his well-meaning stepbrother, Peter decides to take a solo trip down to Hawaii. And ... you guessed it: Sarah and new posh new boyfriend Aldous are already vacationing there! Ack, how comically uncomfortable!

Yeah, yeah I'm "the horror guy," but I also review grown-up movies too -- dramas and even foreign ones from like other countries and stuff! But so far at SXSW 2008 ... COMEDY has been king. Here's four funny flicks I just saw:

Super High Me -- Pothead comedian Doug Benson abstains from weed for 30 days -- and then goes ganja-crazy for 30 days. Erik's review is coming soon, but I laughed a LOT during this movie. And no, not for the reason you're thinking.

The Promotion -- I just spent two hours tongue-bathing this hilarious little flick in my full review -- but it bears mentioning twice: I rrrealllly liked this movie.

Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay -- Sure, it's knee-deep in bodily-function humor, but there's clearly some brains behind the pot-addled exploits of Harold and Kumar. Plus, finally: Someone lets Rob Corddry loose with some good movie material. Dang, that guy's funny. As expected, Neil Patrick Harris steals the show.

Dance of the Dead -- You can read my full review over at FEARnet (and you can soon read Peter Martin's opinions right here!), but here's the short version: Dig movies like The Monster Squad and Dawn of the Dead? Big fan of Freaks and Geeks and John Hughes movies? Then strap in for the funniest "teens vs. monsters" flick since (maybe) Night of the Creeps. And that was like 20 years ago.