For several years now, basically since its first year when it was still just the Subway Cinema series, I have made plans to attend movies that were part of the New York Asian Film Festival. It’s a pretty brilliantly balanced festival, with a perfect blend of cult faves, arthouse fare, award-winning prestige pics, and goofball exploitation from as many Asian countries as films can be found from. And every year, despite my love of such films, something comes up — usually my own laziness — that keeps me from making good on my promise to myself. But this year — this year, I vowed that I would make good on my vow. That’s two vows, man, and even I can’t deal with breaking that. So finally, Teleport City goes to the NY Asian Film Festival.

Our first selection ended up being the perfect capper on a food-themed day. We stared Saturday, June 26, by heading down to Brooklyn Bridge Park for the Drive-In Food/Film Festival’s food truck rodeo. For those who aren’t in a city where this trend has caught on, New York is crawling with high quality food — everything from tacos to BBQ to cupcakes to vegan-friendly Indian food– being served out of the sides of trucks that prowl the city streets. I sometimes have a negative reaction to certain trends, but the proliferation of food trucks is a trend behind which I can throw my full support. That the event is a combination of food truck dining and short films revolving around truck, cart, and street food made it all the better that we were ending the day with the NY Asian Film Festival screening of Kung Fu Chefs, a movie in which Sammo Hung is a chef and does kungfu.

Actually, in between, there was a few hours at a bar watching US-Ghana, but let’s not talk abut that. Dang, those guys on Ghana’s team are fast.

After working off Koean tacos, beer, and a disappointing outcome to the game, we strolled across the Brooklyn Bridge and headed up to the Lincoln Center early, which was a good idea because that place is a maze of poorly mapped buildings. Eventually, we found our way to the right location, The Warren Reade Theater, and bought tickets — Teleport City not being the kind of outfit that gets considered for comps and press passes and things of that nature, which is why I’m thinking of pitching my own idea for a TV show called No Access. Television is full of travel and food shows where someone with all sorts of international industry connections gets to travel all over the world talking to their friends about this topic or that, collecting all sorts of insider info and trivia. My show would be approached from a different angle, that of someone who has no industry insider friends, no connections, no press passes, no contacts or anyone to “hook me up.”

Nothing could better illustrate this concept that my interaction with three of Hong Kong’s biggest stars, or at least three of the biggest stars from the 80s/90s. While we were picking up tickets for the 10:15 showing of Kung Fu Chefs, inside the theater was a reception where Sammo Hung, Simon Yam, and Joyce Godenzi were working the crowd. Sammo and Joyce were there for the screening of Eastern Condors, which I’d unwisely chosen to skip in order to watch that soccer game we won’t talk about. They were just coming out, while Simon was going in for the screening of his film, Echoes of the Rainbow. Sammo was also supposed to be at our showing of Kung Fu Chefs as well, but I guess being like 60, having just flown in from Hong Kong, worked all day glad-handing and talking about movies, and having to fly back out a day later for filming, can wear a guy out. Thus, Sammo was understandably bowing out of his late-night Kung Fu Chefs appearance. But hey — there we were anyway, just a few feet from him, Joyce, and Simon — albeit on the other side of a window.

Yep, us and a bunch of other chumps got to enjoy the reception from the box office line outside, trying our best to snap a photo that would make it look like we were there, despite our own reflections in the window glass. With the help of a bartender who saw us and did his best to maneuver the stars toward a decent photo op for hoi polloi gathered outside, I managed only a couple shots of Sammo and Joyce that were merely bad instead of “the back of someone else’s head.”

As for Simon, who seemed full of energy and joy, I think I got a couple shots of the top of his sticky-up hair. We thought we might get a better photo op when Sammo and Joyce made their way out to a waiting car, but Sammo was visibly dead on his feet, and I’m not dickish paparazzi enough to have shoved my camera in his face. He did spare us a smile and a wave. So good night, sweet Sammo. I hope you have a decent flight back. Oh, and your wife? Still ridiculously gorgeous. I don’t think Joyce has aged a day since we were all cheering her on in She Shoots Straight.

A couple hours later, we were in our seats, having run into a number of friends, including one from online I finally got to know in person. We probably should have actually coordinated ahead of time, but if coordinating ahead of time was my bag, I might have also contacted the festival organizers in advance to set up an interview with them and a few stars or something. But that’s just not the No Access way. Kung Fu Chefs was described to us by festival organizer Grady Hendrix as setting a new bar for stupid, and feeling like one of those slapdash low-budget kung fu films Hong Kong cranked out en masse in the early 1990s. And that’s exactly what it was. Seriously, except for a few terrible CGI effect (all during the cooking scenes, rather than the fighting scenes), and Sammo’s ratty old man hair, if you told me this movie had been released in 1992, I would have believed you.

Anyway, a lot of fun. The vibe at the festival is wonderful, because everyone involved — from the organizers to the audience — is there because they’re fans. It’s totally free of industry stink or pretension. I had a blast, and not just because the movie was so deliriously stupid (and I got to stand like two feet away from Joyce Godenzi, for a few seconds, as she walked by me with her husband who, even as a sleepy, fat, ill, old man, could have crushed me with no effort at all — in my book, that officially qualifies me as having gone on a date with Joyce Godenzi).

Looking forward at the festival schedule, we’re turning out for a few other films. Little Big Soldier (July 1), the latest from Jackie Chan and supposedly a return to his classic kung fu comedy days, is a definite. I’ll definitely catch Gallants (July 6 — Bruce Leung will be there, people!), which had a hilarious mock-vintage trailer and stars pretty much every old man who was ever a kung fu movie bad-ass in the 60s and 70s. And we’re looking at Castaway on the Moon (July 4) from Korea, Yatterman (July 2, provided I can skip out on work for a couple hours) from Japan’s Takashi Miike, and maybe a few more if our money holds out.

I can’t believe it took me so long to fulfill my professional duty and attend this festival, but now that I finally have, I can say that if you are anywhere in or near the New York area, it’s well worth turning out for a movie or two. Or more.