If you’ve been keeping up with the Telluride coverage then you know my thoughts on the 10 films I was able to catch over that four-day spread. So I’m not going to bore you with a tedious recap here. Instead, now that I’m back and relaxed in LA, not looking at the clock and rushing to make this or that event, I think I’ll just take a moment to reflect in general.
On the way to yesterday afternoon’s Labor Day picnic, as I crossed over the San Miguel River on a quaint wooden bridge, I was struck with the disappointment that has been rotting at the back of my mind during the entire festival: God I wish I could take the time to smell the roses there.
Telluride is a beautiful place to launch a film festival and its tranquility is reflected in festival-goers’ sensibilities. There aren’t mobs of people out to see stars. There aren’t flashbulbs popping off around every other corner. Everyone is very much here for the movies and the chance to discover something new. I don’t think it has been tainted, or at the very least, programmers and directors have gone a long way to keep that face out in front.
I’m just settling in here in the Colorado mountainside as the Telluride Film Festival prepares to draw the curtain on its 37th dance tomorrow afternoon.