Random play: How to survive the film festival

By FRANCES GRANT

The post-movie drinking spots have already been planned, the black wardrobe is sorted, and you've bought your medication for allergies caused by too much op-shop clothing in a close environment - but that's the easy part.

The major hurdle for the would-be Auckland International Film Festival-goer is actually deciding what you want to see. You've had the programme for some time now, but the sheer volume of what's on offer is defeating you. Every year it's got thicker until it has become Proustian in scope. You clear a weekend in your busy schedule to devote solely to study of the weighty tome.

You should know by now to guard against that phenomenon known as the first reading. Everything sounds terrific: you've earmarked one "stunning, complex, brilliant" movie after another until you realise you're down to see, well, practically everything.

The first blush of enthusiasm fades and techniques honed over years of faithful festival attendance finally kick into action. Anything with the word "majesterial" in the blurb is quickly eliminated. You've remembered how this is code for ponderously, grandiosely self-important.

You realise you no longer have the stamina to take those movies promising to cover a "century" of European history. You remember the toll taken on your neck and buttocks in the past by anything which mentions the word "trilogy."

Those movies which always have repeated words in the title and/or exclamation marks always sound so catchy and upbeat. But this is balanced by the fact they often come from terribly sober Nordic countries.

You're getting more immune to impossibly cute cultural combinations such as the Finnish cowboy movie or Icelandic flamenco dancing. Then there's the three-hour Taiwanese movie with the title which translates into meaninglessness: A One and a Two. You're an open-minded person who doesn't approve of cultural stereotypes such as oriental inscrutability. But sometimes it's a struggle.

Then there's the movie from a Middle Eastern country. You know you should go to this one to counter Western prejudice and propaganda. But you're doubtful whether you can follow a structure which is "connected more by intuition and theme than by transaction."

Meanwhile, the documentaries are causing panic. "They'll never come back!" people warn sternly. But there are many for which you decide you are clearly not worthy: the mastectomy one could possibly fall into this category.

Then there's the swag of independent Aussie and American movies, among which you know will be the gem which will give you a ticket for smug superiority when it finally gets a run in mainstream cinemas. But it's hard to pick which "dazzling directorial debut" will be the winner.

Your list of 56 or so must-see movies is getting whittled down to more manageable proportions. Time to get tough, so you slash the ones with dreams, painful emotions, angels or perfect geometrical concepts, such as circles, in the title.

Once you've ditched all the Czech animation and anything which openly declares its lengthiness (Pause the Rising Tide, Time and Tide) it's just a clean choice between the truly arcane-sounding Mysterious Object at Noon or Electric Dragon 80,000 V.

Congratulations, you have made it through the guide for another year. Now you just have to make sure your watch is timed to honour that fine festival tradition of arriving an annoying five minutes late for every movie.