Okay, I admit it. I totally made Ken Schmidtke up--lock, stock and (cheese) barrel. It was an April Fool's post, for goodness sake! You're supposed to be careful reading stuff on April Fool's.

Anthony Kaufman's recent blog about "Ultra-Indie" filmmakers made me remember a guy I met at the Wisconsin Film Festival in Madison a few years ago. He had entered his film in the festival but hadn't been accepted. This stunned me, as I figured if my short could get in--then pretty much anything could.

I was out of town, so I only recently caught up with David Denby's fascinating article in last week's New Yorker about non-sequential narrative films. (The table of contents page oddly calls it "The New Non-Narrative Movies," which is a misnomer).

I've been getting some bruising comments about my last blog. Some people think I was pumping the Panegyric a bit too hard when I proclaimed "Smiley Face" the "Citizen Kane" of Stoner Movies. But the thing is...."Smiley Face" is the "Citizen Kane" of Stoner Movies. It happens to be the truth. If Orson Welles had played a dude who smoked weed all day instead of a Heart-like newspaper magnate, he would have had a hell of a time keeping up with Anna Faris. But some people thought I was just trying to wheedle my way into an ad. Nothing could be further from the truth.

With all due respect to Cheech & Chong, "Smiley Face" is the "Citizen Kane" of Stoner Movies and Anna Faris is the new Queen of Comedy. Mirren can keep her awards; Anna Faris rules and soon everyone will bow to Her Majesty. All hail Faris!

Unfortunately, Hal Hartley left Sundance before the press screening of FAY GRIM, and I wasn't able to interview him without seeing the film first. So my questions are on the generic side.

Park City, Utah. Way too early this morning. Zoom In topdog Megan Cunningham, Senior Editor Annie Frisbie and I head over to Park City TV, where Megan and I are to give a live interview. Annie, being smart, is going to sit this one out. On the way over, our cab passes the slowest car accident I've ever seen. One car just slides over in slow motion on the ice and gives the other car a little love tap. But there is still major destruction. Is this an omen?

My friend Errol Morris didn't exactly love going to the Sundance Film Festival. He used to say that he prepared for the trip by locking himself in a deep freeze for a day with a guy who talked incessantly on a cel phone. One year, Errol took the flight from Cambridge to Salt Lake City, rented a car and drove out to Park City. Just as he was stepping out of his car into the cold Utah air, he spied a director of photography he particularly disliked.