In the past few weeks I’ve encountered the concept of the unassailable, unimpeachable, untouchable “classic”—both old and new—from readers. It wasn’t brought into play unkindly, and in most cases it was done by readers I know personally. But in all cases, they were working more or less on the basis that certain films have achieved an inviolable state and that to not recognize that fact imperils one’s cinematic soul to the degree that actual excommunication might have to be considered. To this I say—also not unkindly—not only stuff and nonsense, but balder and dash, and perhaps even poppy and cock.

Diversity abounds this week: three mainstream titles, two “art” films and a something-or-other (I’ll get to that in due course). There’s a lot to be said for diversity, though from the looks of it, some of this particular batch of diversity looks pretty darn dubious from here.

It’s only the first part of October and as far as the movies are concerned Halloween is upon us. Perhaps it’s in honor of the midterm elections—which certainly have all the elements of Halloween—but it seems that this is the most Halloween-centered October in living memory. Well, certainly the most in my living memory. Starting with the October 1 releases, there are no less than nine horror pictures slated to appear—like genii from the bottle—by Halloween. This doesn’t even take into account special showings and TV screenings. I’m not complaining, mind you, but it does seem unusual.

As yesterday unfolded, my notions of what was opening on Friday kept being altered. At the time I sent in the list of upcomers, it consisted of Cairo Time, Let Me In, The Social Network and Animal Kingdom. Next thing I know I’m getting listings with Case 29 added, followed by information about something called Chain Letter—all long after the deadline for the print edition, of course. The late additions are probably negligible, unless you review movies, in which case they’re probably irritants.

We’re screening Rouben Mamoulian’s Love Me Tonight—the 1932 Maurice Chevalier musical comedy—on Tuesday at the Asheville Film Society (in the Cinema Lounge at The Carolina at 8 p.m.), an event that helped bring to mind the question of divorcing the experience of seeing a movie from the movie itself. In other words, is it really possible to completely separate one’s feelings about a film from the circumstances—audience, format, presentation, etc.—under which it was seen? I’m neither sure that it is, nor am I certain that it’s necessarily a bad thing in some respects.