I'm afraid that my idea of cinema keeps exploding, or maybe it's just breaking down. In a whole year, I can't say that I was able to sit through even one feature film, unless you count the fodder on airplanes, or on the Peter Pan bus out of Boston. The world falls apart, and the Spectacle's effort to tuck daily life back into the envelope of a movie so often seems like a, well, quaint waste of time. For me, the moment's about the critical remix, and bringing the filmic gesture back to the present tense. That could be Greg Berger, amplifying a live cell-phone conference call to Mexican sit-down strikers before screening his doc "Atenco: The Machete Rebellion!," or the Whispered Media crew gleefully pulverizing the head of a Rumsfeld piñata before their We Interrupt This Empire, or Hans Grüsel's Kränkenkabinet sonically warping Watson and Weber's "Fall of the House of Usher" in time to dancing papier mâché tree stumps, and yes, the oh-so-generous Electric Mural Project shining its looped love-light onto the side of a PG&E substation – authentic proof that motion pictures can still surprise.

Craig Baldwin, filmmaker (Spectres of the Spectrum) and curator, Other Cinema

• • •

My independent film intake in 2003 was huge, spanning a couple of continents, and this is what I found. Films like Bus 174, City of God, and Noi the Albino, from Brazil and Iceland, stretched the art of cinema to meet the pull of story. That was rare in America this year. Kill Bill: Vol 1 was cinema but had a bogus story. Lost in Translation reached for one. For every couple of new releases, there were some palate-cleansers – the perfect films, like those of Wong Kar-wai or Terence Malick. Even Two-Lane Blacktop, a '70s cult film with James Taylor as the Driver, satisfied when it literally burnt itself up on-screen. It may sound silly now, but back then it was bold.

Xandra Castleton, writer-producer, Grottofilms

• • •

1. We Interrupt This Empire July 4 screening at Dolores Park

2. Eldridge Cleaver, Black Panther, by William Klein: a screening at the PFA Theater, with the amazing Kathleen Cleaver speaking afterward

3. Drumline, by Charles Stone III: I saw it on an airplane and was so strangely moved by the film that I cried. Must have been the altitude.

4. Melinda Stone's "California Tour" film show/performance

5. A Grin Without a Cat, by Chris Marker

6. The Girl on the Train in the Moon: Bill Daniel's hobo art installation

7. My University of San Francisco students' final class project video on KUSF-FM

8. End of the Century, by Jim Fields and Michael Gramaglia

9. Spellbound, by Jeff Blitz

10. An Injury to One, by Travis Wilkerson

Sam Green, codirector, The Weather Underground

• • •

What I remember of 2003:

1. Bumfights 2: Bumlife on DVD: Class war for frat fucks. The future of entertainment. Perfect for the new mayor of Frisco.

2. Irréversible on DVD: Excessively overwhelming. An experience of nauseating impotence.

3. Winged Migration, Imax at Metreon: sublime

4. Max Ernst on DVD: The portrait of an artist as a young man. All aspiring artists should see this film. What if art were politics nowadays?

5. Sans soleil at the Castro Theatre: A perfect example of a "consecrated" artist. A combination of cinematic sleeping pills, home movies, and an uninspired Western perspective as high art.

6. Tsai Ming-liang's The Skywalk Is Gone, Yerba Buena Center for the Arts

7. The first 30 minutes of Reflections of Evil on DVD: to deterritorialize vomit

James Hong, director, The Spear of Destiny

• • •

Vive la France! The Castro fought "freedom fries" foolishness with the fabulous French revivals Quai des orfèvres, Touchez pas au grisbi, Le cercle rouge, and Godard's eternally wondrous Une femme est une femme, while the San Francisco Cinematheque's Germaine Dulac retrospective at the PFA provided a protofeminist look at liberty, equality, and fraternity. Lambchop played their beautiful new score to Murnau's silent Sunrise at the San Francisco International Film Festival, also highlighted by Pat O'Neill's haunted Ambassador hotel in The Decay of Fiction and the skin-picking picnic in Apichatpong Weerasethakul's entrancing Blissfully Yours. Jose Rodriguez played with bananas, a squirming dog, cat entrails, and himself in a handful of sensational short works and should hang out sometime with the rubber-clad wall-licker in João Pedro Rodrigues's seriously sexy O Fantasma. I also loved Ulrich Seidl's Dog Days, Gus Van Sant's Gerry, Lars von Trier's Medea, and above all Matthew Barney's Cremaster Cycle, which caused my testicles to descend deliciously during many moments of real shock and awe.

Steven Jenkins, executive director, San Francisco Cinematheque

• • •

Hangin' with Nicolas Cage:

In May, I brought Roman Coppola to UC Santa Cruz, where I'm chair of the Department of Film and Digital Media, and we got the added bonus of a visit from his cousin, Nicolas Cage. Since we weren't really sure if Cage would show up, we scheduled him as a surprise visitor in the "Techno-Thrillers" class taught by assistant professor David Crane. He arrived in a black stretch limo wearing a cool Italian suit, and we walked together through the redwood trees to the classroom as surprised students did double takes. "I don't go out unless I know I got up on the right side of the bed in the morning, because I know I'll be meeting people all day, and that's a lot of people you can piss off," Cage said. "But I'm in a good mood today." A jolt of electricity shot through the class of 350 students as the Academy Award-winning actor stepped onstage after a clip from Face/Off. He patiently and sincerely answered questions for an hour and a half, and I became famous on campus as the guy who brought Nicolas Cage to UC Santa Cruz.

Chip Lord, videomaker and chair, UC Santa Cruz Department of Film and Digital Media

• • •

My top three (cuz it was such a weak year, baby) movies of 2003:

1. Lilya 4-Ever: The hands-down number-one flick. Heeeeeaaaavy and depresssssing Scandinavian art film about wasted youth.

2. Lost in Translation: fun movie filled with engaging yellow and white people

3. Old School: retardo shaggy dog stoooopid laffs alcohol

Jon Moritsugu, director, Scumrock

• • •

Our top local film treasures (a.k.a., a love letter to the independent film programmers of the Bay Area):

Where to begin? Anita Monga (at the Castro) and Elliot Lavine (late of the Roxie Cinema, now at Movies by the Bay in Alameda); Joel Shepard at Yerba Buena; the Steves at S.F. Cinematheque; Gary Meyer at the Balboa Theater; Frank Lee at the Four Star, and everybody at the Red Vic, the Roxie and Artists' Television Access; the Pacific Film Archive (except that I wish it were on this side of the bay); ditto the Parkway and Rafael Film Center; Landmark Theatres (even if it is a chain); and all our fabulous film fests: Frameline, NAATA, Cine Acción, the Jewish Film Fest, MadCat, Tranny Fest, Cinemayaat, Film Arts, S.F. International, the Silent Film Festival, etc. Next time you see any of these folks, take a minute to tell them, "Thanks for making the Bay Area a better, more cinematically satisfying place to live."

Jenni Olson, filmmaker and former codirector, San Francisco International Lesbian and Gay Film Festival

• • •

1. Several months back, while I'm taking in a screening of School of Rock at the Daly City 21, the fire alarm goes off. Saturday night, 8 p.m., 21 movies near capacity, and the whole fuckin' building has to be emptied. At first it seems like a joke, but the prospect of being killed in a mall fire in Daly City has us scooting down the fire escape posthaste. It takes more than an hour to sort it all out. An hour of standing around in the wind tunnel that is Daly City. Thousands of frigid moviegoers nervously eye minimum-wage workers trying to muster authority. What a mess. Fed up, we demand a refund and return to the city, eat Vietnamese food in the 'Loin, and catch the late-night of School of Rock at the megaplex in the city. The movie, by the way, rocked!

2. Ofttimes art projects are brilliant in theory and ho-hum in actuality. The "California Tour" bucked that trend, delivering all that it promised. Independent filmmaker and curator Melinda Stone set up shows at drive-ins all over small-town California last summer. We make the trek to somewhere outside of Sacto. The screen is falling apart, there are no concessions, the bathrooms exist but seem to have been cannibalized for parts, the marquee is not lit, making the venue nearly impossible to find, the concrete is ruptured, overtaken by wild sage (which smells like dog shit to me), the forces of nature seem to be reclaiming the drive-in in some Ballard-esque fashion. And this is a working drive-in! But the show is a hit, packed with the fine citizens of the capital region. Families in pickup trucks come armed with lawn chairs, blankets, and coolers. The crowd sings along during the sing-along. At the end a drunken member of the audience steps to the mic and recites a poem. You won't see that at the mall! We top it off with Dairy Queen for the ride home.

Danny Plotnick, filmmaker ("Swingers' Serenade"; "I, Socky") and associate director, Film Arts Foundation

• • •

As many contemporary makers of experimental cinema in "mid career" seek legitimacy with a feature project or lapse into self-repetition of tired formulas, the most heartening and inspiring film event of 2003 was by far Eric Saks's presentation of recent digital micromedia works: prankish PSAs, underground advertising, anonymous e-mail, and the vanity Web site. In November's Cinematheque-sponsored "Memathon," Saks discussed his own tobaccogeezers.org project and demonstrated the subversive power of the anonymous well-placed gesture. In so doing he again underscored the value of the personal and simultaneously shattered notions of authorship, audience and artwork itself while shedding new light on banal "new media."

Steve Polta, office manager, San Francisco Cinematheque

• • •

2003 hit list (in no specific order):

1. "Pretty Gritty," March 22: Art benefit for Who Is Bozo Texino? in the maybe-future home of Rayko Photo as the Tomahawks were being slipped into their cylinders off the coast of Iraq. Projections, angry graffiti, artists missing due to arrest, and the helicopters overhead tracking the late-night protests. Just because attack and Iraq rhyme (to you), doesn't mean they make sense, Mr. Bush, but I guess you just had to learn it for yourself. Welcome to your quagmire.

2. The Fall of the House of Fine Arts, i.e., the end of Fine Arts Cinema in Berkeley: Sitting blissful in the dark watching Two-Lane Blacktop one last time and wondering about real film running in real projectors in a real theater – color me gone, baby.

3. Silt at the Sundance Film Festival: The Bay Area paranaturalists set up an experimental optical hothouse in the snowy desolation of indie narrative-land. I loved the Q&A with the uninitiated audience (more like P&D: puzzlement and disbelief). "You mean the film that you buried in the ground is the same film that we just saw running through the projector?" What, you don't do that with D.V.?

4. Ken Park: I was intercepted on a Thursday morning that was coming unraveled and diverted into the Castro for a unexpected private screening of Larry Clark's latest look at the American teen nightmare. I came out blinking and battered, but believing – the man is one of the few who has the courage to stare with love into the mouth of that monster.

5. Uncovered: The Whole Truth about the Iraq War: MoveOn and director Robert Greenwald buried me with data and facts, and I thought about Watergate – if the digital means of production had been available in the '70s and the truth had been packaged and distributed online, Nixon wouldn't have lasted into August '74. So what's happening here and now? The president lied to Congress, for crying out loud – get the word out.

The other five are, of course, my own projects, but I'm sure someone else will mention those ...

Thad Povey, filmmaker

• • •

Some old, some new, some blue: the most interesting film things I saw in 2003:

• The Brown Bunny, by Vincent Gallo

• Bad Santa, by Terry Zwigoff

• The last 10 minutes of Twentynine Palms (an otherwise miserable failure), by Bruno Dumont

• The Visitation, by Nathaniel Dorsky

• Vibrator, by Ryuichi Hiroki

• Los Angeles Plays Itself, by Thom Andersen

• L'histoire de Marie et Julien, by Jacques Rivette

• Tie xi Qu: West of the Tracks, by Wang Bing

• Elephant, by Gus Van Sant

• The Weather Underground, by Sam Green and Bill Siegel

• Japón, by Carlos Reygadas

• Morvern Callar, by Lynne Ramsay

• Reflections of Evil, by Damon Packard

• Fashionistas, by John Stagliono

• The breakfast-nook knife fight in Kill Bill: Vol. 1, by Quentin Tarantino

Joel Shepard, film and video curator, Yerba Buena Center for the Arts

• • •

Some ways I saw some (mostly grown-up) movies despite having two young kids (besides renting DVDs):

A couple of ground rules: most of these tips only apply as long as kiddies are preverbal and preambulatory. And when the kid starts to scream, babble, or otherwise make any commotion, it's time to go – immediately.

1. Took in musicals. Two-month-old Ivy loved seeing A Mighty Wind because of the exciting singing and strumming – much more fun, say, than Hou Hsaio-hsien.

2. Begged afternoon baby-sitting from Grandma and ran off to a matinee. Lost in Translation was much more palatable at $6.50 than it would have been at $9.50.

3. Patronized Oakland's Parkway Theater and Speakeasy. Nothing beats Monday night's "Baby Brigade" or the Saturday all-ages matinee, with pizza, beer, and popcorn delivered to your comfy couch. School of Rock seemed especially appropriate here.

4. Went to experimental films. Often short, nonlinear, and full of pretty colors and interesting sounds. The perfect lap-sit, plus they often put the kid (and some adults) to sleep.

5. Cashed in my relationship chips and made Daddy baby-sit. I went to most of the S.F. International Asian American Film Festival this way and saw some excellent flicks, including Spencer Nakasako and Mike Siv's Refugee.

6. Attended weekday matinees during nap time, in big theaters. A week or so after the movie's opened, to better ensure sparse crowds, I took the younger kid in her best sleep-inducing baby carrier, with a pacifier or some silent chew toys, and hid out in the balcony or the back row, where I could pace quietly back and forth to keep the tot sleepy. Worked like a charm for three-plus hours of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

7. Saw expensive special-effects sci-fi movies. The Matrix Reloaded/Revolutions and X2 had tons of strobing lights, weird mutants, and shiny CGI – pure eye candy. Covered her ears during the explosions and gunfire – she was probably too young to care about either the violent parts or the gaping plot holes.

8. Looked at artsy smut. Believe it or not, some babies really dig huge images of naked breasts – imagine that. Don't tell child protective services.

Valerie Soe, videomaker

• • •

The official Pepelicula.com top 10 list:

10. Japón, by Carlos Reygadas

9. Lost Boys of Sudan, by Megan Mylan and Jon Shenk

8. Mondays in the Sun, by Fernando León de Aranoa

7. Bubba Ho-Tep, by Don Coscarelli

6. Black Horse, Iran*

5. City of God, by Kátia Lund and Fernando Meirelles

4. Russian Ark, by Aleksandr Sokurov

3. El Leyton, by Gonzalo Justiniano

2. Refugee, by Spencer Nakasako

1. The Miracle of Tepeyac, by Carlos E. González, José Manuel Ramos, and Fernando Sáyago

My favorite night at the movies in 2003 was the premiere of Spencer Nakasako's new film, Refugee, at the S.F. International Asian American Film Festival in March. An extraordinary event that fused community with documentary filmmaking, it had song and dance by the Vietnamese Youth Development Center before the films and a party afterward with enough food and drink for everybody. I was honored to have a front-row seat, and the evening was a big inspiration.

Pepe Urquijo, filmmaker, Fruit of Labor

• • •

My greatest filmgoing experience of 2003 was seeing the Swedish film Lilya 4-Ever at the Red Vic. I knew almost nothing about the film and had gone only to accompany a friend who was interested in seeing it. But from almost the moment the film started, I realized that I was in the presence of a masterpiece. The film is wrenching, and watching it was a little like being kicked in the heart, over and over again, or worse yet, watching someone you love being kicked in the heart, over and over again. My friend and I were both shaken afterward, almost unable to fathom what we had just witnessed.

I immediately went home and looked up the director, Lukas Moodysson, on the Internet. He had made just two other features, but Ingmar Bergman had already hailed him as "the great hope of Swedish cinema." I immediately rented the only other film of his that was available for rental: Show Me Love. I remembered hearing about it when it came out, but I hadn't rushed to see it because it had a gay theme (the film is about two teenage girls who fall in love), and I erroneously assumed that I wouldn't be able to relate to it.

The film was, if such a thing is possible, even more of a masterpiece than Lilya 4-Ever, and I was so troubled and moved by the film that I found myself both sobbing and talking out loud to the characters on the television screen (I was alone in the room at the time). The film is devastatingly beautiful, and its director, Lukas Moodysson, is the greatest thing to have happened since Lars von Trier. Long live Scandinavia.