THERE were mutterings among the hard core in the pub on Saturday. "I'm still waiting to be blown away," moaned one season ticket holder who had taken a week off work to indulge in a film blitz. She felt aggrieved that five days of daylight deprivation and sandwich bolting between screenings hadn't delivered the desired hit.

Lukewarm responses to this year's Festival programme seem to be ubiquitous so far, especially, not surprisingly, among those who are attending films back to back. Saturation sets in early among even the most attentive viewers, and the jaded lack of enthusiasm of the "total immersion" buffs contrasts with the reactions of people who choose two or three films over the 10 days and don't become sucked into a frenzy of over consumption.

Most films, in fact, will suffer from being seen in this manner delicacy, subtlety, imagination and craftsmanship make little impression, and the most violent, sensational and exploitative films will shout their claims and linger in the memory. Certainly, this year's Festival does not compare favourably with earlier years in terms of excitement, but it's possible that our expectations are simply too high. The kind of gluttony enjoyed by festival audiences a decade ago was (more than justified by the dearth of opportunities in Ireland to see international cinema, especially work from distinguished European, and American independent, directors.

The fact that we are now, in Dublin, so much better served by our cinemas removes the necessity for the same sense of urgency about the Festival; also, the tendency towards the homogenisation of cinema, through the mechanisms of international co production and funding, has inhibited formal innovation and lead to the dominance of formulaic, narrative bound film making, regardless of its country of origin.