See? That sounds so much better than Howl's Moving Castle. Especially because Howl had to be transliterated into Japanese as Hauru, and if someone can tell me the Japanese equivalent of my name, I'd be much obliged.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Where was I? Ah yes, the press conferences. No! There was the Hong Kong lesbian movie, Hudie (Butterfly), which is actually one of the best films here - thoroughly accomplished, never less than moving, and seemingly without a single extraneous shot. It's a story about a woman who had an intense lesbian relationship in high school, right around the days of the Tienanmen protests and the massacre. It would be the romantic pinnacle of her life. But in the intervening 15 years, she got married to a decent man and has a cute little 1-y-old daughter named Ting-Ting. (Ting-Ting!) And when we meet her, she runs into a young, free-spirited girl, who rekindles the long-dormant lesbian side of her identity. And that's the setup: all the angles of the situation are explored, and the result feels just so true - and, in the best Far Eastern tradition, nothing is ever forced down your throat. I've been lucky enough to compliment the director, Yan Yan Mak, and the lead acress, on their achievement. And then I rushed up to the conference room.

They didn't let me into the Merchant conference, because Pacino was chewing the scenery and the journalists, and also because all the squee-squads were already assembled in the sala for the upcoming arrival of The Depp. So I waited until Pacino, Irons et al left, and managed to get in, only to be informed that the cast and crew of Finding Neverland will be late, because their plane was delayed or something. Oh well. More time lost and nothing to show for it. Carlo and Zvezdana, my fellow festival regulars, suggest that we can while the time away by going downstairs to where the stars board the boats, behind the Casino building (where the conferences are, among other useful things). So we get there, and for some reason (perhaps because we have so many IDs hanging on our necks - aside from the press passes, there are all those lounge permits that entitle you to free drinks) we are not made to stand behind the railing with the shrieking fandom and the paparazzi. No, we just stand aside and chat. Sure enough, my old pal Harvey Weinstein is there, so I say hi, and he says hello back to me. Good ole Harvey. He's not so tall, so the whole Jabba schtick is not as pronounced, actually.

After a while, Pacino walks by. "Hoo-ah", he says, "I really had a lousy breakfast today." Well, not anyone can have the breakfast of Harvey, Mr. Corleone sir. In a minute or two, a very reserved (not to say asshatish) Jeremy Irons walks the same way, with a much more accessible Joseph Fiennes. None of them say hi back to me, but at least Fiennes signs some autographs for the crowd. And then it's time for the Neverland conference.

Somehow, we are let in. So are about 300 fangirls, and I fear the worst. Then Depp comes out, in a striped polo shirt. With Winslet, who's wearing an okay dress (much nicer than the cardigan number she had for the Holy Smoke conference ages ago), Forster, and the composer. I'm dying to ask Winslet to compare this experience with Heavenly Creatures, since those movies currently bookend her career and both deal with imagination as a way of coping with grief. But I'm shit out of luck.  The conference is moderated by an asswipe who only allowes the Italian press and the more prominent Americans to put questions, so my permanently-raised arm is ignored. I'm forced to listen to them answer about what does imagination mean to them, would they like to fly, and who are their favorite designers. (Depp: "I have no idea about designers.") Then again, you should know something about Johnny Depp: The man is inarticulate. I swear to God. This is the second time I've attended a press conference of his, and a simple six-word sentence like the one above takes him the better part of a minute to string together. He's a darling, and I have no doubt he's smart and all, but he's the most conversationally-challenged actor I've ever seen in flesh. Seriously, he comes off as a dimwit.

Naturally, this only amplifies the squee that ensues afte the conference is declared finished. Depp is mobbed, yo: I'm surprised bras and panties are not thrown in his general direction. I manage to reach the composer, Jan Kaczmarek, and ask him a few things about the music, which helpfully distracts him from watching the whole Depp autograph thing in utter disbelief. Kate gets asked for an autograph or two, before she silently leaves the podium, unable to compete with the madness of Johnny.

And after that, I only eat sandwiches, drink water, and watch movies. Oh yeah, and sleep, a bit.

The French movie Les Revenants sounded so hopeful: all the recently deceased people rise from their graves, in perfect health, and go back to their hometown. There they're received by the authorities, and their families, and the movie tries to explore the repercussions of this marvellous event from a non-zombie-movie standpoint, which is truly commendable. However. However. It doesn't explore anything - all the paradoxes, all the moral cruxes, all the truly heartrending situations inherent in the setup are just nowhere to be seen. Add to it a truly lame direction and you have a film to avoid.

Oh, and afterwards, we lined up for this Hauro no ugoku shiro movie. It was the only screening where we were searched for videocameras, and the Palagalileo was filled to the brim in no time. Then they announced over the PA that we are about to witness the world premiere screening of the new Hayao Miyazaki movie. And they brought the lights down, but I'm sure you could've seen me glow in the dark, down there.

From the huge applause that greeted the Studio Ghibli logo, to the huger applause after the movie ended, I was afraid to blink and miss something. It's that good. Yes, it's a Diana W. Jones story, but it's total Miyazaki through and through. From the beautifully-realised steampunk world of 19th century Europe, to the amazing, gilliamesque Castle itself, to Howl, who fights his battles far away from our eyes, to the wonderfully funny Calcifer, the spirit of fire, to the central story of a plain 18-y-old girl who falls under a spell and is transformed into a 90-y-old, it's a huge procession of OMG OMG OMG and more squee from my rusty old heart than Johnny Depp, bless his soul, could ever entice. It took a really schmaltzy Japanese pop song over the ending scene and credits to make me snap out of it. Howl is as good as Mononoke or Spirited Away, even though it has a more unequivocal happy ending. I can't wait for it to be unleashed onto the world - and feel so pride to have been there. (Unlike the ho who was sitting next to me and texting someone the whole time, ho ho ho.)

The last movie of the evening was Antonia Bird's The Hamburg Cell, an eerily accurate feature film about the 9/11 hijackers. Yeah, with actors playing them and all. It's so well researched, it feels and smells like a documentary, which is just uncanny - I mean, the film forced me to get to know people like Mohammed Atta, which I'd rather not, but I admire Bird for it. Also, watching the film, which is as sensitive and as right-minded as possible, given the subject, I realised I still can't deal with that whole tragedy rationally. So, bear that in mind, should this film come your way.

Then again, a docu I saw today put a whole different spin on how we view tragedy. Darwin's Nightmare, by Hubert Sauper, is the story of the people of Tanzania on the shores of Lake Victoria - fishermen whose catch is highly prized on the European markets. So you think they'd live off the exports and be well off and content, right? Wrong. They're forced to eat maggoty fish heads, for one thing, because all the fish gets flown out, and they are paid so meagerly - if at all - that they can't afford to buy other food. Also, instead of flying back empty, the cargo planes bring guns, to fuel wars, which are always good for big business. So you see the beautiful African people being reduced to the levels of abject poverty which is really abject poverty, resorting to prostitution to survive, or drugs to escape. Darwin's Nightmare is a fucking difficult story to ingest, but dammit, it's a great film.

Black people weren't so lucky with Spike Lee's She Hate Me. If a movie so dependant on racial stereotypes abused for tasteless comedy had been made by a non-black person, they'd be publicly crucified. Yet Lee is obviously happy to make such dreck, because it superficially matches his agenda. Which is here, apparently, lesbian pregnancies, and corporate bankruptcies. Obviously, a match made in the pits of Udun, which is where this sorry POS belongs forever. And to think that Lee made the marvellous 25th Hour just previously... Mind boggles.

Alejandro Amenabar is famous for The Others, right? In Mar adentro he has a completely different story, but he plays it so effectively, it's currently the biggest crowd-pleaser of the competition. It is basically a story of a quadriplegic who wants to die, despite the fact that he's beloved by women and a published poet, with fans and a caring family. No, he wants to die and that's it, and if the state won't allow him euthanasia, well, then, to hell with it. He has so many friends, they'll help him out somehow. I failed to be moved - strange, since I weep like a baby in cinema, usually - but I do agree that the film is just about as well-made as can be. Also, Javier Bardem is pitch-perfect as the immovable Ramon, but then again this Venice is replete with great men's roles.

Strings is a Danish puppet feature. Yeah, I know. It's actually a none-too-original fantasy, or rather legendary story with all the usual trappings, but with one difference - all the characters are wooden string puppets, with strings reaching all the way up to the heavenly puppeteer. And they carve babies out of wood and then attach strings to them. And they die once their main string, the head string, is cut. And that is so awesomely original that you can forgive them if they played it safe with the story (up to a point). Strings could become a huge cult hit easily.

This can't be said for the film I just saw, Michele Placido's Ovunque sei. Mostly because it's reliant on a plot twist that noone got, and the screening audience therefore thought it was ridiculous, and booed it terribly. I personally thought it was quite good, but will try and see what the situation is at the press conference tomorrow. And now, it's 10.30 PM, and if I'm lucky I'll be in bed by 12 and get seven hours' sleep. Tomorrow, hopefully, six more movies are being served - from 8.30 AM, to 11.45 PM, for Donnie Darko, the Director's Cut. Which only has midnight screenings, so there's no choice...