Arriving at a festival at the halfway mark is a little like turning up late to a party where the food has been eaten and the guests you know are already starting to leave – the night may not be over, but you’re going to have to work your way into it.
So it was when my train pulled into Edinburgh yesterday afternoon: the comparative glamour of last week’s UK premieres for “The Illusionist” and “Toy Story 3” are old news, the press contingent has already thinned out and one is left to badger those who remain for hot screening tips. Admittedly, I hadn’t really done my homework beforehand: for the first time, I turned up at a festival having only glancingly browsed through the programme.
Not that that’s too much of a disability at Edinburgh, a festival so thick with new names from the indie sector that most screenings can be seen a lucky dip of sorts: five films in, I’ve only scored once. (With a film is delightful as the first reviewed after the cut, however, once is quite enough.)