
The title of this blog entry says it all — I’m freezing my gonads off here at the 62nd Berlinale. After a freezing experience at Sundance with the YOMYOMF crew, I guess I was cursed to continue onward on my own through my festival gypsy trip to another freezing place. With temperatures clocking in the mid-teens Fahrenheit, and short, brisk walks through the icy streets that will have the tip of your nose form icicles, the outside elements just compel you to stay indoors and sit through foreign film fare in toasty theaters.

Inside the Martin Gropius Bau, the film market of the Berlinale.






