I’m writing this from my uncle-in-law’s house in San Leandro, squeezing in some time with my fourth aunt and her daughter, visiting from Arizona. In the hour after I arrived at San Leandro’s BART station shortly before 10 PM, my aunt called my fifth aunt and her children in Seattle, talked about her health, my fourth aunt’s health, my grandmother’s health, then called my grandfather in Saigon’s Chinatown.
Like a fetus in a womb, I’ve been snuggled into my stadium seat in a dark Kabuki theater. Absorbing, reflecting, enjoying. This festival does nurture me and many others, as does its parent organization, CAAM. SFIAAFF brings the life of Asia and Asian America to you through the powerful umbilical cord of film.
Down at the Castro Theater, the energy emitting from the audience in response to the film was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. In that way, it was almost like an interactive live theater performance. I was laughing so hard I thought I might choke and I certainly wasn’t alone. It was one big inside joke, but everybody was in on it.