We speak with the Viral Film Festival about loving cinema during lockdown, and why a post-influencer future is in our grasp

“Why not?” asked David Michon before kicking off a film focused Instagram account that has become a mini-sensation in its own right. The question of why then, on the other hand, had a more pressing drive. Michon had his eye on what was to come before lockdown came into effect in the UK, as he explains,“my husband’s family is Italian, so even before things got serious here in the UK, we were well aware of what was to come.”

Festivals might bring to mind large crowds, a central stage and expensive beer, the crowded, messy joys of life pre-coronavirus. This feeling of togetherness and the more public nature of the event reflects the bigger mission – the why – that shaped the project as well as it’s curious title. Rather than a film club, perhaps that bit more elitist, the festival embodies, as he says, something “more joyful and celebratory, too.” Although, that doesn’t mean he isn’t hoping to return to a cinema. “Clubs don’t have end dates – festivals do.”

For each film selected, a graphic of a physical ticket stub is made which they had imagined could find a new role in a digital environment with friends forwarding them to each other as an invite. “That hasn’t really happened,” Michon admits. “Still, I love them.” He explains that he enlisted a friend of his, Mike White, founder of Studio Lowrie, to produce the visuals, joking that White’s recent work on the branding for the 2020 Sundance Film Festival was practice for VFF. This ode to physical cinema is part of why VFF exists in the first place. Michon says they are all “big fans of going to a movie theatre. VFF is a stop gap until we can head back, so a reference to the cinema experience seemed important.”

With a growing, committed audience, VFF began from a perfect storm of professional experience, personal curiosity and timing. As social distancing was coming into effect, Michon jotted the idea of VFF down as a way to keep busy. Self decricaptingly referring to himself as an “ideas man”, Michon is a former editor of Icon magazine as well as former managing editor of Monocle. Working as an independent consultant on a range of projects, from podcasts to consultancy and editorial, his professional life clearly shaped this personal project. “I have a long list of things I think should exist,” he tells me. “But equally that should be executed by someone that isn’t me. It’s rewarding when things snap into place, even in a modest way.”

They began running the VFF four days a week, which quickly proved unsustainable. “It took a surprising amount of effort,” Michon notes. “In order to keep having fun while doing this, we’re now just programming one film a week – on Thursdays. Nothing else has changed, really – the format worked well.” 

What were the expectations for who – and how many – people would watch? Initial expectations were modest. Michon said, “if this is something we were craving, we figured others might too.” Instagram was the easy bit. He, alongside two friends, one a playwright and the other a film festival programmer, Brian and Seán, could easily share Zoom links and get the conversation started. His collaborators are, as he describes: “incredibly smart and articulate when it comes to film, so I knew – or hoped – that strangers would agree.”

The curation of the films is wide ranging, eclectic and shows a penchant for classic cinema, yet almost inevitably, is accidentally contextualised by the times we’re in. Michon draws a link between Thelma & Louise, a kind of “escape fantasy, two women who say ‘fuck you’ to the patriarchy and hit the open road” while Rosemary’s Baby, on the otherhand, is a story of “some very, very bad neighbours, and a woman going mad in her own home.” The “most pandemic-related” movie, according to Michon, is likely Safe, a 1987 film directed by Todd Haynes starring Julianne Moore as a wealthy housewife suffering from a mysterious environmental illness. Shot in 1995, Seán and Brian highlighted how this was in part an allegory to the AIDS crisis as the director was an ACT UP activist.

As time has gone on, the project has gained a loyal and steady audience. “There seems to be a core group of followers who watch pretty much every film, and who are really active in discussions after,” Michon says reflecting back from the launch. It’s a gratifying experience, he relays, to see strangers sharing a passion for films. And the audience has found it important too, as he remembers, two or so weeks into it receiving a message from someone saying how important and necessary the festival was “for getting them through the week.” This kind of reaction is more than they were expecting, beginning with “no ambitions other than enjoying it ourselves.”

His collaborators, Brian and Seán, take the lead with the film curation, and with each choice offering a “mini film history lesson”, Michon says, as they share a lot of context; from the film, its cast, its director, its reception critically and at the box office. During the conversations, held on Instagram Live, the audience brings a lot of information and insight too. “I make it sound a bit niche,” Michon says. “But in fact is very light-hearted, very funny, verging on a bit camp: the revelation of how great Alec Baldwin’s ass is in Beetlejuice, for example.” He adds, “the chats so far have been really participatory.”

Michon’s experience of launching the project, as well as a wider experience of the Internet during lockdown, has shaped his view of what might come next. There are a wide range of examples to point to when discussing film online, such as smaller projects like the Pandemic Film Club, as well as big players who are increasingly catching on. YouTube who recently hosted “A Night at the Movies”, showing Dirty Dancing hosted by Jamie Lee Curtis and ‘other celebrity guests and YouTube personalities’. Looking at other institutions, and even small businesses, Michon points to the generosity on display with digital platforms being used to share events and resources. For example, he’s taking a course through MoMA, reading books in the Guggenheim’s library and watching lectures hosted by the Architectural Association. “All free,” he notes with surprise. The implications of this are potentially enormous, he suggests, pointing to a growing maturity in how we approach digital platforms; “I personally hope Influencers disappear, and we can focus money and attention on creating things of real and independent value and purpose on Instagram or wherever.”

Attend the Viral Film Festival from the safety of your laptop, phone or whatever on Instagram – see you soon.