Like Cary Grant on the arid road of North by Northwest, like Jean-Paul Belmondo, advancing in the final scene of À bout de souffle and, above all, in the neurotic dance as the protagonist of Denis Lavant de Mauvais sang. So I've been running around like crazy these days: from one room to another, from one chronicle to the next. The Festival has a lot of marathon.

For nine days, all the streets and bars in the center have been filled with unknowns in this frenetic race in which it is often difficult to stop and breathe for a moment. The aerobic exercise has undoubtedly been for all those who have worked to sustain the cinéphilous and the bomb built on it. Organization, infrastructure, press, management of entrance rooms… No interruptions for us.

Every year, the beginning of an event that celebrates seventy years is announced with great intensity. Each time the Donostiarras become witnesses to the strange ecosystem that is gradually being built: the appearance of official cars with tinted windows, the multiplication of accredited beings and the upholstery of some streets. Zinemaldia is a real madness, as it opens the door to the savage tourist and helps to sell a whole city under the guise of the cruel ars gratia artis. It also has a more nice face, of course. For example, that of the old friends who are in the rooms and are greeted with heat. For those of us who are not from the city, there are not few signs of the proximity of the Festival. In fact, two weeks before the first opening of the fabric, you can no longer ignore the licit scandal produced by any film, guest or comment.

In the end we have reached the goal that we could not see from the starting line and, like every year, the time has come to make the podium known. On my way home, I've seen the closing gala and I've noticed that I haven't seen any of the award-winning films. Perhaps the metaphor I am using is true and I have forgotten during these days the goal with the current run.

Before concluding, I would like to make a special mention for me, the Argentinian Trenque Lauquen, the best of this year’s edition. It also has a lot of marathon, because it takes four hours and twenty minutes. It is great in every sense of the word the one directed by Laura Citarella. From the adorable mystery of the first part, on its way to the exciting fantasy of the second part, the film masterfully exalts the beauty of everyday details and the hidden. Unlike the woman sitting next to me, who has taken a strong nap in the first part and for the second part has not returned, it has been very difficult for me to turn my eyes away from the screen for four hours.

In Trenque Lauquen, the best way to end the Festival has been the race and the subsequent prize. So this year the time has come to breathe for the first time in nine days and to lay off the Zinemaldia. Now the fabric has been closed.