The Portland International Film Festival came to an end last Sunday. This was my first year covering it as a member of "the press." Here's a quick, belated wrap-up:

Number of films I saw out of 80 or so films screened: 9.5.

Wait, what's the .5 for? I walked out on a press screening of Everlasting Moments after the film broke halfway through. Yeah, yeah, yeah, some online film critic I am. What can I say? The sun was shining outside and I decided my afternoon might be better spent hiking down to Powell's instead of watching a very slooooow film about a Swedish mother and her passion for turn-of-the-century photography.

The number of films my friend Dan's father, a member of the Film Center's Silver Screen Club, saw this year? Over 40.

How did he manage that? I have no idea but I think it may involve a combination of retirement and amphetamines.

What did he think of that really depressing movie about the actors in the factory? He actually liked it.

The best film that isn't Coraline I saw this year: The Baader Meinhof Complex.

The worst film that isn't Coraline I saw this year: Karamazovs.

The biggest "You'd Never See That in an American Movie" moment of the fest: The last two minutes of Mermaid.

Total estimated viewing time of unpleasant middle-aged nudity in the films I saw: At least 20 minutes.

Number of Silver Screen members that hissed at me like a snake after I made the mistake of sitting in front of them at a press screening: 1.

Number of awkward encounters involving Teri Hatcher: 1.

Would I do this again next year: Absolutely.

Click here for the Portland Mercury's festival wrap-up.

Labels: PIFF