I’d been planning all along to catch four films today — Wes Anderson’s The French Dispatch (9:30 am), Pablo Larrain’s Spencer (1 pm), Todd Haynes’ The Velvet Underground (6:45 pm) and Bernard MacMahon’s Becoming Led Zeppelin (9:45 pm).

But I’ve suddenly decided I need some morning time so I’m blowing off Dispatch, which I don’t feel all that anxious or heartbroken about given the general Cannes consensus (i.e., Wes doubling down upon his signature style). No worries — everything in its own time.

I can catch Jane Campion‘s The Power of the Dog tomorrow at 9 am or 12:45 pm.

Choosing this or that film is always an anguishing decision here in Telluride as it always means missing or postponing two or three others. I’m often sometimes torn between what I know I have to see vs. what I’d actually prefer to see.

The evening temps (45 to 50 degrees) aren’t what a reasonable person would call “cold” but it’s fair to say “chilling,” especially if you haven’t brought anything truly warm to wear, which describes my situation. I’d be in good shape if I’d brought my heavy leather motorcycle jacket and maybe a scarf or two, but it was so sticky hot when we left WeHo last Monday night that I somehow couldn’t envision nocturnal cold shudders in the Colorado Rockies. But that’s the reality.