Guts (feat. a Journey to Bolton Film Festival)
(7th Oct 2024)
This is more like a diary entry than an essay. More anecdotal than what I've written previously. That being said, this is my blog, I can do what I want. In the following I talk about my experiences with my Eating Disorder (ARFID) in considerable detail, if that will make you uncomfortable or distressed, I'd say skip this one. We can catch each other next time around, look after yourself.
I’ve never been to Bolton before. And yet, perhaps I give off the energy of someone who has settled there. It wasn’t twenty minutes after my friend and I stepped off the train that two people asked us for directions, and all we could do was respond in a good-faith bewilderment that we were in fact not native to the area. It did remind me remarkably of a town in Cornwall though. Everything shuttered in the middle of a sunday. Bare streets. A little grey. One of those out-of-the-way places the Government has forgotten about. Still, I couldn’t deny walking down the high street that there were some gorgeous buildings dotted around.
I walked into the shopping centre, my friend and I got some pictures of the posters for the films showing, and then we eventually found our way into the cinema. There were perhaps seven other people in there by the time the reel started. While I always encourage people to go to the cinema, I can’t help but feel a slight joy when I have a screen all to myself. Maybe it’s selfish. Either way, it was just me, my friend, and these seven other people sitting dotted around this theatre all having a love (or in my friend’s case, being brought by someone who loves) film.
We saw five shorts:
Pavane (Pauline Gay, 2023, France)
Guts (Margaux Susi, 2023, United States)
Grill (Jade Hærem Aksnes, 2023, Norway)
Heap (Kyle Marchen, 2023, Canada)
An Orange From Jaffa (Mohammed Almughanni, 2024, Occupied Palestinian Territory)
I can’t stress enough how consistently good these shorts were. Dark, Funny, but also thought provoking and cathartic. It made me happy to see a Palestinian film in the mix-up, a small act of defiance against the forces trying to make them lose hope, it looked gorgeous and was written amazingly. Grill was bleak and relatable, Pavane made me think about my mother, and Heap was my favourite out of the group, a real mind-fuck kind of film, and aesthetically brilliant. A sort of shortened Black Mirror.
But Guts. That stirred up a lot of feelings for me. It was the reason I went to see that particular block of films. I’m a fan of StarKid and Smosh and also Watched all (at the time) Sixteen seasons of Grey’s anatomy in a matter of weeks. Angela Giarratana and Kate Burton?? Opposite Each other?? In a Movie playing in a theatre near me?? Sign Me Up.
I knew it was about a Girl in recovery. Specifically from an Eating Disorder. I knew Angela’s character was a girl who invited a stranger to dinner because eating with other people is easier than eating alone. I’ve been there. It was only semi-recently that my own eating disorder was brought to my attention. I confided in my friend (the selfsame who came with me to this screening) with a self deprecating chuckle that I’d been eating little other than a couple of slices of toast a day for Three or so weeks. Food has always (and continues to be) a source of anxiety for me. Just as one might be scared of what would happen if they put their hand on the stove (you stand there and imagine the searing pain, the blisters, the burns, it inevitably puts you off the action) I was scared of eating. I was scared of putting food in my body. I was scared of feeling the food in my mouth. Of chewing it. Of actually doing the act. The thought of eating made me feel sick. Fear would wrap an iron grip around my stomach to the point where I’d turn to my trusty loaf of bread and salted butter to get the job done. My friend pointed out with a face twisted with concern that eating that way isn’t normal. Being scared of food isn’t normal. I recounted that it had been this way for as long as I could remember and she informed me that it sounded like I had ARFID.
Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder. I won’t spout the facts at you but it’s pretty much what it says on the tin. Being aware of it has helped me in a way. But it’s so incredibly present. The other day I simply could not decide what I wanted to eat. I ran through the options in my head and the thought of consuming those things filled me with the familiar dread. There it was again. Instead of deciding what to eat, I let the wave of dread take me and I lay in my bed for an hour and a half, on top of the covers and staring at the ceiling. I had to self regulate. I had to calm down. It had been a good day, and then everything fell apart.
Guts said so adequately what I had been struggling to verbalise. Hearing Angela speak the things that I needed to remind myself of (Jan Rosenberg’s writing perhaps is the direction I should be tipping my hat to in this regard) made my heart feel a certain way.
And Jesus Christ that’s why I love movies.
