The Circuit

by John Hopewell and Maria Alvarez Rilla

The flight from Madrid to San Sebastian went like clockwork, a highly predictable half an hour late. But the short hop to north San Sebastian was just 40 minutes, a breeze. And that's the first thing which hit us when we stepped out of the plane onto the tarmac at the San Sebastian airport.

The air's fresh, blowsy, after Madrid's nicotine-colored smog, it's a gulp of good health, tinged with a hint of sadism. The sadism comes from the landscape shock. Arrive at San Sebastian on the eve of the festival and one or two of the plane's passengers will be first time fest guests. You sense their sense of befuddlement as they stare past the airport building to the steep rampart green hills beyond.

San Sebastian, the Basque Country at large, is hardly typical sun-baked Spain. It's more like Wales or Scotland. The weather at the Festival is a dramatic mix of dazzling sun, squalls and drizzle. If you were planning on ten days of power-sun-bathing on the beach, closing deals to the odor of ambre soleil, forget it. And throw away your castellano if you really want to go local. "Alletu berandua" said a stout passenger as the plane came to a halt. That's Basque. Anybody who catches a plane to San Sebastian knows what it means, because it's repeated so much: "It's late again."

We boarded a taxi. It's a dramatic drive into town, past green fields, oak, beech and pine woods, with hills banking up to limestone buffs on either side. And, 20 minutes later, we're in San Sebastian. We dash over to the festival H.Q., housed in the Kursaal, two Chinese lantern-looking cubes of modern architecture (pictured), just in front of San Sebastian's Gros surfing beach. They look as natural there as the geometric plinth in Kubrick's "2001."

We arrive at 7.30 p.m. just in time to get there too late.  So we sit down at the pub-ish cafe on the pavement opposite the Kursaal and talk about the festival. It would be arrogant of us to say what the 55th edition of San Sebastian was all about even before it starts tomorrow with David Cronenberg's "Eastern Promises." So we'll just say what part of it's about.

In the good old days, the festival list of industry activities used to cover about half a page. Now it spreads over three, at least. There are round tables, workshops, press conferences, a swathe of happy hours, a plethora of fori. One theme, with variations, links much of the yak-fest: regional Europe, smaller countries, emerging film axes. The last are vast: Latin America and the Arab and Mediterranean world.

On Monday, Fapae and Cinema do Brasil stage a co-pro forum. Cinema in Motion, which unveils four unfinished films from the Arab world and its environs, takes place the same day. But another leitmotif threads many events: market decline in Spain as Spain's young become stay-at-home Internet buffs, vidgame fanboys, P2Pnistas. A new Avei Spanish vid lobby unwraps on Saturday; a Tuesday round table plumbs "New Film Consumer Trends."

So the 55th San Sebastian Festival would appear from the get-go to frame a paradox. As trade markets flatten or falter in Spain - and it isn't the only country - governments in emerging regions are taking film-making to their hearts. The question is whether government will soon be called on to do far, far more - in Spain at least - to compensate for ravaging new consumer patterns.

Editor's note: The Variety España team is on the ground in Spain, bringing regular dispatches throughout the San Sebastian Film Festival.