when was the last time you used a phone book?

And I don't mean the contacts list, sometimes labeled "phone book," on your cell phone. When was the last time you used the utility-company published yellow (do they come in other colors?) book?

Honestly, in the last several years, the only reason I ever touched one of those was to recycle it, bemoaning why it was even delivered to me in the first place. That was, until last week.

I spent four consecutive days at the City of Lights City of Angels (COLCOA) Film Festival at the Director's Guild of America building on Sunset. If the title's too cryptic for you, the subtitle of the festival was "A week of French film premieres in Hollywood." Duh, you're thinking to yourself, that's just up Stephanie's alley.

I saw three comedies: Shall We Kiss?, Game of Four, and Welcome to the Land of Ch'tis. The latter is currently only playing in Francophone Europe, has broken several French box office records, and is unlikely to be released in the U.S. despite the Weinsteins buying the rights to remake it. It also had the least sophisticated humor of the three, relying mostly on regional ignorance and rivalry. Shall We Kiss? is a farce about why you shouldn't give "meaningless" kisses when you are otherwise entangled. Game of Four is a comedy of manners about cheating on your spouse and the potential fun the injured party can have in trying to stop it without you knowing.

I also saw one drama: A Secret, which is about complicated family relations shifting during World War II and its aftermath. It's not so much about the fighting, but instead conflicts within the family about being French Jews during it.

So getting back to my phone book story... After my first film, where I spent the whole time straining to sit upright, forward, and just damn uncomfortable due to the shifting position of the taller people in front of me, I was determined to rescue my phone book from my recycling bag and drag it with me to the remaining screenings.

What? Seriously. Have you tried to watch a foreign film where the subtitles are blocked by someone's head? I don't care if people laugh at me. I paid to see the movie, and I want to enjoy it! But don't worry, I brought it with me in stylish bag so no one had a clue anyway.

It seemed my dragging the heavy book was in vain until the last night, which started fine. Then an old lady (yes, seriously) sat in front of me. I think she had a bit of difficulty seeing because of the people in front of her so she was as tall as could be throughout the film. The film was projected with the subtitles abnormally low. This is to say nothing of the poor design in general (a gentle slope, low screen, etc.).

What did I ever do before stadium seating?