Overheard at CIFF (Updated)

Favorite Exchange (in the audience for Mother):

Older WOMAN, paging through the festival program:
A-ha! Police, Adjective. I found it.
That's why I wanted to see that, because I like Romanian films.

Older MAN, not reading the program:
Is it about oppression?

WOMAN:
Yes.

MAN, very earnest, still not reading:
Oooh, sounds good!

WOMAN, after two beats:
It says it "does a lot by only doing a little."
I think I have to see that!

Favorite Non-Sequitur (in the audience for Red Riding: 1974):

MAN, to his viewing partner:
I have a friend, and he is adamantly Croatian.
I mean, he went to prison.

Favorite Refusal to Budge (in the audience for Face):

MAN, to his viewing partner:
Daniel Day-Lewis is French.

WOMAN, after an incredulous beat:
Of course he's not French. He's English.

MAN:
No, Daniel Day-Lewis is French.

WOMAN, after two beats:
Listen to the name. "Daniel Day-Lewis." There's no way he's French.

MAN, unflappable:
He is French.

WOMAN pulls out her iPhone. Tip-taps. Eventually:
"Daniel Day-Lewis, born 1957, in London, England."

MAN:
But he is French.

(Note: Day-Lewis has had Irish citizenship for years, but I wasn't about to cut in.)

By Far, the Most Tortured Word:

Vincere, aka VIN-SEER. VEE-VUH-RAY. VINKER. VINCER, like "pincer." VEEN-SAYR. VINKERY. Quite memorably, Vuh-RENTZ. Save a thought for the poor Italians at the screening: moaning, wounded. VEEN-chayray, they yelled, to no avail. Hell hath no monolith like a Chicago accent doing whatever the hell it wants.

But anyway, back to Precious: keep those comments going!