I'm back in town - and the final IFC Rotterdam Dispatch is up. Read and find out about what exciting silver screen adventures took home the big prizes! Intrigue!
Anyway, with all the hullabaloo and writing and drinking and jury meetings and such, I only managed to see 33 films. If I had no encumberances I could have pushed 50. Oh that love of the written word and fermented drinks hadn't held me back! But I still think I managed to catch the best of the fest, while catching up with some festival films I'd missed previously, like The Man From London. Bela Tarr was at the screening, introducing London, and he was as you'd expect - dressed completely in black, with a greying short ponytail and a sad, soft-spoken gravelly voice. He swore a few times.
I should have a fuller breakdown of my adventures in the days to come, utilizing my favorite device, the list. Anyway, I had a fine time, chatted with many witty Euros, discovered that not all critics are humorless boobs, and ate some horrendous Dutch food. All in all a memorable time.