Michael Guillen reports ...
Inbetween the festival program capsule previews that woo a filmgoer to attend a film and the critical print reviews that warn a filmgoer to abandon all hope before entering a moviehouse or to rage against the light while leaving, lies some modicum of personal truth that can only be experienced while in the process of watching the movie. That's when I enjoy movies the best: before the images become saddled with description or riddled full of interpretations or decisively executed by criticism. Armed with pandering previews and ranting reviews, I sit in the dark and hope to suspend my disbelief. And if I'm lucky, that's exactly what happens. I accept that "frenzy on the wall" as representational of something real—at the least!—but, hopefully, the taint of representation will be so skillfully minimized by a director that I will hasten to claim a cinematic experience as truly my own experience.