In the spirit of the season and goodwill and whatnot, I thought I'd forgo griping about the sorry state of things this week and instead send out some love to the downtrodden, the small films of 2007 that were somehow overlooked, underrated or outright ignored in some way. Let's start with the Russian film The Italian, released in January, which caused critics to dredge up the word "Dickensian" for the first time in a while. But for all that it was a surprising, deeply-felt story of an orphan who escapes the orphanage to find his birth-parents.

Kino released the documentary Romantico in January as well, and they're apparently counting it as a 2007 release. I wrote a few weeks back about the documentary format; there's certainly a place for journalism and reporting, but the very best documentaries, the ones that stand the test of time, are the ones that capture the details of life, like Crumb, Hoop Dreams and To Be and to Have. Romantico is one of those. It tells the story of a mariachi illegally based in San Francisco who decides to go back to Mexico to see his family, even though he risks never being able to return (of course, his income in the States is much higher than in Mexico). Romantico will most certainly be overlooked in any discussion of 2007's documentaries, but it's worth seeking out on DVD.

What's truly surprising about The Italian, a Russian film that won two minor Best Feature awards at the 2005 Berlin Film Festival and received favorable stateside reviews after its North American debut at Telluride last month, is its tremendous warmth. Set in a rundown orphanage, the movie features none of the horrors -- neglect, abuse, hunger -- that western audiences associate with that world. Instead, though undeniably poor, the orphanage is a strangely comforting place. Run by a good-hearted man (Yuri Itskov) who struggles daily to balance his desperate need for money with his obvious affection for and desire to protect his charges, the place is home to a wide array of children, all of whom have well-established friendships and a tremendous ease in their environment.

The director notwithstanding, the real rulers of the orphanage are found in a group of old kids: Tough boys and girls who go outside the gates daily to make money, both legally and otherwise. Though we sometimes see younger children punched and intimidated by these older boys, it's very clear that nothing is done arbitrarily, or out of cruelty. Instead, the boys are enforcing a code of conduct that demands honesty and the sharing of assets, all for the good of the group -- it seems that, at least among the young, socialism is alive and well in Russia.

In The Italian, by director Andrei Kravchuk, six-year-old Vanya lives in the dilapidated Russian orphanage he has always called home. The orphanage is run by the Head Master, a broken-down man who, in spite of being occasionally drunk and frequently flustered, does the best he can to care for the many children abandoned by their parents to his care. A formidable woman known to the children only as Madam arranges for the children to be adopted by foreign couples seeking international adoption -- for a considerable profit. The children more or less fend for themselves, working at odd jobs, or as thieves and prostitutes for the gang of older teens living in the basement of the orphanage. One day Madam brings to the orphanage Claudia and Roberto, an Italian couple who have come to look for a child to adopt, and Vanya is chosen to be introduced to them. They immediately fall in love with Vanya and decide to adopt him, but it takes two months for the paperwork and court date to finalize matters. The other orphans consider Vanya lucky to have been chosen for adoption, and so does Vanya -- at first.

Here we are at Day Three of Telluride already. Only one more day of fun and film at 10,000 feet to go before I'm off to Toronto. Today was beautiful in Telluride, absolutely perfect for sitting outside to interview Venus director Roger Michell during an afternoon screening of his film. Michell was every bit as delightful in person as he seems in his Q&As. He was due to take off right after the post-show Q&A to get his kids back to London in time for school tomorrow, before heading to Toronto himself to promote the film there. I'll have the interview up as soon as I have enough spare minutes to get it transcribed.

After the interview, I had a little time before I needed to queue up for the screening of Infamous at the Galaxy, so I headed down to Main Street (aka Colorado Street), the heart of Telluride, to score a sandwich to eat in line. On my way back to the Galaxy, I found a nice little coffee shop, where I got a lovely triple-shot latte -- just what I needed to boost me through the afternoon and evening. Finally got into the Galaxy after waiting in the queue forever. It's a neat theater: They convert the elementary school gymnasium into a full-fledged theater by covering everything in black velvet drapes and bringing in lots of cool neon galaxy-themed art. I enjoyed Infamous more than I expected to. I wasn't sure the world needed two films about Truman Capote in as many years, but the film was well-done and well-acted, with Sandra Bullock putting in a particularly strong performance as Capote's childhood friend, Pulitzer prize-winning author Nelle Harper Lee (To Kill a Mockingbird). I love To Kill a Mockingbird, but I had no idea that Lee based the character of Dil on Capote. I know, I'm probably the only person on the planet who didn't know that. That's okay. You learn all kinds of unexpected things at film festivals.

Saturday was interesting. I was supposed to go to an early screening, but didn't sleep well (the altitude is getting to me a bit) and decided to stay in this morning to write reviews instead, while slurping down what passes for coffee here at the lodge. I'd pay serious cash for Seattle's 24/7 access to a latte right about now -- my blood-to-caffeine ratio has dipped dangerously low at this point.

Possibly because of that, I forgot to mention an interesting story in yesterday's report. On the gondola ride back to the lodge, I met a woman who had just been to the Emmys. She is a "seat filler" at the awards shows, primarily the Oscars and Emmys. She's done this for years -- she doesn't get paid for it, but she has a blast. What's a "seat filler," you ask? A seat filler sits in empty seats next to stars whose spouses or dates have gone off to the bathroom or to sneak a smoke, so that when the camera pans their way it doesn't look like they're alone.