TELLURIDE, Colo. -- There is little free time at the TFF. Everyone is hoofing across town, panting because of the thin air, desperate to squeeze five screenings into one day. Then there are volunteers like me, who fill the space between movies with making popcorn and serving Coke and cleaning up after the frenzied literati. Up at 6:30 a.m., in bed by 2 a.m. It's an overdose of cinema, really, and I can't process it right now. Everyone is punch-drunk. The bright moon is skimming along the mountaintops right now. Gunfire is echoing down Main Street (audio from the outdoor screening of Indigenes). I am sitting on a porch outside (55 degrees, clear), unable to duly process what I've seen so far.
So expect a full roundup in a couple days regarding: the new Almodóvar film and Penélope Cruz's coming of age, the miscalculated antics of Infamous, 20,000 Streets under the Sky, the diminishing returns of Civic Life, Rolf de Herr's Ten Canoes, and more about the buzz on hot items like The Italian and Severance. Tomorrow is the last day of the fest, and I hope Babel and/or Little Children will be playing at my theater. Also, I'll be posting photos. Check the previous posts for meditations on Venus, Fur, and The Last King of Scotland.
A Pfeiffer Portrait of Devastating Despair
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