Film festivals are addictive, especially if you've got that magical piece of laminated paper called a press pass. Volunteers smile at you, directors schmooze with you and theater doors swing open for you at the flash of a badge. Best of all, you can spend all day watching movies with no guilty feelings whatsoever -- just doing a job, don't you know?
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There are exceptions -- at the Cannes Film Festival, where press passes are graded as strictly as ceremonial robes at the Heian court, journos with the wrong colors get, not the glad hand, but the beady eye or even the strong arm from burly security guards at screenings.