The biggest laughs and most interesting moments come one after another towards the end of Film Fest. Film Fest shows that making a movie is just the tip of the iceberg for filmmakers and how crazy and seedy the marketing side of the industry can be even at the lower levels of the industry. It also shows the heart of the indie movie scene and how filmmakers will struggle through all the nonsense to see their vision realized.

Some have blamed Whedon for the failure of the original film. However, many of the fixes to the film's biggest issues come in the form of the two hours of additional footage. It seems unlikely that Warner Bros. would have approved sending out a four-hour film regardless of which director was behind it. The problem with Justice League was never Whedon or Snyder; the problem was with Warner Bros. itself. 

Still, one is hard-pressed to think of a filmmaker who’s as absolutely singular as Wes Anderson, and even harder-pressed to think of a fanbase best described as completists. I’m not sure that a casual Wes Anderson fan exists. Once you twirl into his world, it’s easy to get lost there—drunk on his outlandish, affected aesthetics, dazzled by his constricted idiosyncrasy, baffled by his reinvention of what cinematic language can look like.

The story is so straightforward, and yet the complexities multiply. The documentary details a relationship so unexpected and curious and unfathomable. It sounds ridiculous, but this masterpiece shows how one man (Craig Foster) manages to establish a genuine friendship — a kind of love affair, really — with an octopus in the waters of a kelp forest at the tip of Southern Africa. At first, Foster is just as astonished as the viewer. After all, he didn’t venture into the water seeking a new friend. Who would?