after credits: wake up dead man (a knives out mystery) takes a dig at substack

This is just the beginning of my London Film Festival marathon – still have eleven days and twenty-something films to go. God help my eyeballs.

There’s an overpowering feeling that hits when you walk into Picturehouse Central during the London Film Festival. The walls hum. People clutch their printed schedules like treasure maps. Someone’s arguing about whether to skip their 6pm for the standby line at the 8:45. I inhale the stale popcorn air and think, this is home for the next two weeks. Screen 1’s red seats have cradled my spine through more screenings than I care to admit. Its brutalist stairwell echoes with the footsteps of critics pretending they’re not racing to claim the best seats. Press and Industry screenings began a few days before the festival officially opened—I caught The Secret Agent and Weightless in rooms where people still whisper during trailers, which I respect.

Yesterday was Opening Night. I caught Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery at 8:00 in the morning (the commitment!), Daniel Craig doing his Benoit Blanc thing, and me sitting there wondering if I’ve already forgotten how to have hobbies that don’t involve sitting in the dark. I have thoughts—oh, do I have thoughts—about this movie and everything else I’ve seen so far, which I’ll get into after the paywall for my paid supporters. But first, I need to show you something that I think captures the entire experience of being press at this festival.

Because here’s the thing: LFF isn’t just about watching movies. It’s about the logistics. The planning. The spreadsheet I definitely did not make at 6.58am mapping out toilet times between screenings. And most importantly, it’s about the booking system that either makes you feel like a god or reduces you to tears. I’m talking about the portal where we select our screenings—a beautiful, terrifying interface that’s basically film festival Hunger Games.

So let me show you a screenshot of the booking calendar. And I think once you see it, you’ll understand why I’ve been communicating exclusively in nods and grunts to my friends, why I’ve been living off Pret sandwiches and spite, and why my screen time report this week will look like a cry for help.