Million Dollar BIFF

I once held the naïve belief that film festivals are altruistic, cultured events, whose agenda is only to enrich the intellect and awaken the spirit. I was Wrong. They are not nice. They are cruel, punishing endurance events that make the Coolangatta Gold look like a stroll down to Baskin Robbins for the sugar-charged oldies who retired before becoming too infirmed to wait until 5pm (official early bird dinner time), to get their fix of icecream - pre-warmed for sensitive teeth, in thirty different shades of vanilla.

On next year's programme, I expect the front cover to display the warning: This feast of films could be damaging to the looks; the use of botox is recommended (Best used after). I looked in the mirror in the wake of this event and thought oh wha? how did I get a black eye? Who punched me?

BIFF that's who, and I don't mind admitting... I loved it.

Here are some of my highlights...