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To name but a few of the movies showing, there’s the 1979 Muppets Movie (the one with “Rainbow Connection”), a generational crowd-pleaser sure to work its magic once again with young families in attendance; a collection of animated shorts themed around “Romantasy” for the old school Adult Swim crowd; and a Dabke dance workshop led by El Funoun, a traditional Palestinian dance company braiding celebration with resistance. As the latter item suggests, there’s much more to the festival than just what’s on screen.
Most movies are paired with local live acts to fill the air as the crowd mills in or to keep the party going long after the projector shuts off. You might walk into one screening to the processional music of Brooklyn slacker prog and exit the next to a Roots reggae DJ set. Kyp Malone, in all his braid-bearded glory, plays before Eternity One, at times playfully directing us, “now pretend I’m a movie, and pay the fuck attention,” and later offering light conversation starters between straight-from-the-bottle sips of Casamigos like, “did you think fascism was going to feel different?”
One particularly inspired pairing comes from the combination of Ridgewood-based documentarian John Wilson’s first feature, The History of Concrete, with a set from Bellerose rapper Heems (of Das Racist fame for any lovers of combination Pizza Hut-Taco Bells). Wilson’s whispering, Kermit-ish cadence juxtaposed with Heems’s audacious bars shorthands the borough’s rejection of one-size-fits-all characterization as one of the most diverse urban centers in the world.
Tying a bow on the Queens-ness of it all is the al-fresco setting itself. This might be the one pocket of the city that does sleep. Call it the influence of the local surf culture, or the protected peace of the nearby nature reserves, but the Rockaways are just the kind of place made for prying sticks out of asses. Take it from friendly neighborhood rockstar Patti Smith, who put it simply on her Substack: “Being at Rockaway Beach makes me happy.” It’s long ceased to be a neighborhood that puts on airs, an attitude that liberates us all tonight. Under the darkening sky, I’m oddly comforted by the couple next to me taking advantage of the shifting tenebrism for some drive-in-style PDA. Tucked inside the cul-de-sac of a residential street off of Beach 67, Arverne Cinema is right at home amongst the two-story houses hosting their own celebrations, with one particularly passionate birthday party across the street beating out the volume of Hertzler’s Q&A.
