Dragoslav Kožul just called. He will be at his house close to Brseč on the eastern shore of Istria for quite a while this year. Two days ago he came to Motovun to see a movie, but I was not at home. He was there from early evening till midnight. To his surprise, there were no crowds. Having visited the hilltown on a few earlier film festivals, he was quite happy by what he experienced this time around. “Actually,” he concluded, “it was rather pleasant.” I was surprised, as well. “Well,” I ventured a few words at last, “the festival may well be on its hind legs.” And then I went for the clincher: “I bet I will be told by those who sell beer and kebab at the event that it was a sheer disaster this year!” One way or another, it would be marvelous if the annual ordeal would turn into a bona fide film festival, as advertised. The beer and kebab be damned for good.