The dilapidated but charming warehouse at 2nd St. and 5th Av. SE. in Minneapolis known as the Soap Factory is empty on a Thursday afternoon in mid-June, save for one office where three judges, huddled around a large Mac desktop screen, are reviewing films. Very short films.

"I like it," says one of the judges, Katherine Rochester. She's referring to a short titled "The Hotel San Jose Pool Bee" by local filmmaker Gene Pittman. The title says it all: This is a story about a bee floating around in a pool. That's it.

"Yeah, kind of a 'Moment of Zen,' " adds Chris Pennington. "Kind of a nice conclusion -- little bit too long," he adds.

With a running time of 20 seconds, "The Hotel San Jose Pool Bee" is perhaps too epic for the fifth annual Ten Second Film Festival, which returns to the outdoors near the Minneapolis riverfront this July 4th.

"Can't use it," says Rochester, program manager at the Soap Factory and new curator of the festival.

"We get mad if it's too long," says Pennington, the festival's creator and former curator.

Margaret Andrews
Last year's crowd enjoys the film festival.

Obviously, brevity is key at the Ten Second Film Festival, which has grown each year both in popularity (a reported 3,000 people attended last year) and in submissions. This year, 218 short films were entered.

Throughout their long review session, the staff will come across everything from Britney Spears cartoons, to car crashes, to slapstick humor. They even saw a film of a man picking his nose. Think of the Ricky Fitts character from "American Beauty," finding beauty in almost anything shot on video.

Rochester has two pet peeves: when people submit home movies of their kids ("This is not 'America's Funniest Home Videos,'" she says), and people pulling 10-second clips out of other, longer movies they've made. They say they can always tell when this happens. "The point of the 10-second time restriction is to challenge people to think within an accelerated framework. No cheating!" she says.

This year, a few rules have changed. Filmmakers were allowed to make edits and use actual video-camera equipment, something previously prohibited. Most contributors use alternative video technologies such as cell phones or still cameras with a video function.

One hundred films will be shown at the fest, divided into 10 categories. Rochester isn't sure yet what all the categories will be this year, but with oft-repeated categories like "What the hell am I looking at?," "Funny Ha Ha," the Kubrick Award, "Under the Influence" and the aforementioned "Moment of Zen," she will have no problem setting up the slate. There are two good approaches to winning a category, according to Rochester: Either go for funny, "Candid Camera" style moments, or take on the challenge to see how much you can pack in to tell an interesting story in 10 seconds. Some people even script their films.

"The key is the punch line," Rochester says. "There's got to be a punch line."

Back in 2004, Pennington noticed how accessible video equipment was becoming, appearing on cell phones and digital still cameras. He found an appreciation for this new technology, even though it was "uniquely crappy" and very pixilated. Knowing the technology would catch up sooner than later, he created the festival to mark that particular time and quality in videomaking.

It's about participatory art, says Pennington. But really, it's about having a good time "getting buzzed on beer and watching the weird shit your neighbors record with their cell phones." Pennington is also quick to add that people produce interesting, noteworthy stuff for the festival -- a little bit of everything.

He also wanted to encourage people besides filmmakers to make movies. "Our motto was 'Don't leave art to the artists,' " Pennington says. This fest is for the masses, or as he puts it, "a film fest your mom could win -- the anti-film festival."

The festival is one of the Soap Factory's most popular and highly attended events, drawing people who would not normally visit the gallery for its more demanding and challenging programs. Yet the fest is also very much in line with the Soap's commitment to experimentation and risk-taking.

"It's pretty risky to agree to show 100 films made by people who may not consider themselves artists and who may never have made a film in their lives," Rochester says.

And although it takes place on July 4th, Rochester insists the festival is not intentionally staged as a counterpoint to the symbolic act of setting off fireworks.

"While fireworks do represent bombs, they also represent the creation of a new country," she said. Maybe the more resonant connection is simply freedom: Anyone is free to be an artist, and on this night have his or her work shown at a prominent art space.

"[It's] coming together from all walks of life to celebrate our freedom," Rochester says, "to make as many crappy films as we damn well please."

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