Throughout the night, my eyes glanced around the room. I caught sight of “Hoop Dreams” director Steve James and “Return to Seoul” filmmaker Davy Chou. Along the way, the festival’s artistic director Mimi Plauché and its managing director Vivian Teng stepped on stage to talk about the festival’s adventurous summer screenings, its CineYouth festival and its Community Cinema to the CIX: Lab. To extol the CineYouth was Carlos Lerma, a writer/director/author whose film “Treasure Haunt,” earlier this year, played alongside other works by promising young filmmakers. McKenzie Chinn, an actor/director and CIX: lab cohort member, shared her experiences in the program. Her short, “A Real One,” in fact, won Chi Film Fest’s Gold Hugo for Live Action Short. Through the developmental CIX: Lab, Chinn made the short as a proof of concept for her potential debut feature. 

John C. Reilly, Chicago-native, DePaul University alum, was, of course, the night’s biggest highlight. By the time the evening arrived at his moment, Reilly was already riding high. A video tribute with testimonials from the likes of Lynne Ramsay (he starred in her psychological thriller “We Need to Talk About Kevin”) commended his versatility, calling him quite possibly the best actor out there. An overwhelmed Reilly graciously accepted the festival’s career achievement award. His speech, similar to his steady performances—on stage, and in television and film—did not disappoint. 

Reilly spoke warmly about his life in Chicago, particularly his upbringing on the city’s south side and on stage at Steppenwolf. He considered how the city’s workmanlike ethos, its value of pursuing a craft for the love rather than for fame has informed his career. He defended the theatrical experience, decrying the belief that streamers like Netflix, Apple, or Amazon Studios could save the day. He balked at A.I.—joking that robots were surveilling the event. He was funny, poignant, wistful, delighted, and thankful. And long after the speeches ended, long after the lights dimmed on the silent dance floor, where only moments ago partiers stepped to 1980s pop hits as they consumed slices of cake sure to hug a sweet tooth, Reilly’s heartfelt proclamation was still reverberating off the venue’s walls with the same vibrancy of a jazz trio.

“And to the big shoulders of the men and women who believed in a kid from the south side and lifted him up,” Reilly continued. “Long live the movies. And long live my sweet home, Chicago!”