This year's Tuesday Night Freak-out: has been canceled. Stay tuned for further developments as they become available.

C'est pas moi, je le jure just broke my heart a little bit. Or maybe just cut me open somewhat, more like. But in the good way, I think... cathartic and satisfying and a bit sad and a bit happy and very, very good. That is a really sensational movie, and the kid in it is nothing short of scarily amazing. So there ya go: I am capable of not just sitting through, but enthusiastically enjoying, Canadian feature filmmaking. If Quebec counts? Who knows, I'm going into another one (Derriere Moi) right now, so I'll let you know.

I also saw the Hungarian incest flick, which was "that film," being the obligatory once-annually festival film I must encounter from Eastern Europe, where nobody says much, shots are held long, lingering shots of small animals are imbued with impenetrable thematic significance, and really fucking awful rapes happen in the middle of the day every now and again. Not that it went particularly sour in this case: like After the Day Before in 2004, I didn't really mind the languid sequences of the Danube Delta drifting on by and the lengthy, inexplicable procession of funeral boats underscored by the inevitable drone-hum of an all-male throat choir. And as incest stories go, a traditionally-damn-near-impossible sub-genre, it wasn't bad, just a bit sledgehammery towards the Lottery-esque ending. But there's no denying that between Delta and Achilles and the four hours of sleep that preceded them, it was a low-key-to-the-point-of-subliminality start to the day.

C'est pas moi (my first trip to the Winter Garden, which made me positively purple with disappointment that I didn't get to see J.K. Rowling read there during the Hallows tour) ran 20 minutes long, so I missed the first 15 minutes of 35 Rums. That's easily 6 or 7 rums! So I didn't bother, and instead stayed for the Q&A, which I never do (because of the inevitable questions: in this case, "where was it shot?" and "did you change much from the book?").

An effortless rush of Rocknrolla damn near turned today into my only 7-flick day, but with Rums off the schedule, 'twas not to be. Oh, and Rocknrolla... hella awful. Or just stupid and pointless, really. Oh, if I could undo the damage that Lock, Stock has done to the world. I would be a happy man.

You ever have that thing where you're all alone in a whole row of theatre seats and a guy comes in and sits immediately beside you? And then, 15 minutes into the movie, you hear the horrifying ZZZZIPPP? Cuz I did, today. (It was his fanny pack. But that doesn't explain the needless proximity.)

Right-o.