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In short, Telluride is a dream. It's the only marquee festival that's just for cinephiles. There are no junkets, no press conferences, no awards, no wheelings and dealings. The film list isn't announced until the day the festival starts, so attendees have to rely on the discriminating tastes of the selection committee (although I have confirmation of at least one movie on the docket: Barbet Schroeder's doc Terror's Advocate). The tiny town is located in a tiny enclave in the southwest corner of Colorado, so you need to be wealthy enough to buy transportation, lodging and a festival pass, or savvy and passionate enough to worm your way into the volunteering ranks. If you do, you'll mingle on Main Street with Meryl, Pedro and Werner. You'll gorge yourself on up to six movies a day -- most are North American premieres, some are restored retrospectives, some are accompanied live by the wonderful Alloy Orchestra. Okay, that's it, I'm getting aroused.
Telluride is a busy time for a volunteer, but I will blog when I can (as I did last year). It'll start a week from today. So stay tuned. In between, the Triple Crowners series will continue, as will the usual grabass.
4 comments:
My little convert! *sniff* Your words are like music.
I meant to make note of this in the post itself: Middento is the reason I am in this fortunate position. Skyscraping heaps of thanks to him.
Oh, you cinema whore, I say with affectionate envy.
My dream is to some day take in some of the Toronto Film Festival.
My other dream is to simply catch some of the films that are part of the Eastman House's film calendar.
Looking forward to living vicariously... jerk.
Just go to Toronto. That's always what I did. You just show up and get in a line.
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