Once is enough ...
Back in college, when I was still a dope-riddled liberal, I took, as an elective, an arts class; this was at an engineering college, and, apparently, the arts classes were designed to make one profoundly hate the arts and all forms of undisciplined expression, and instead, grudgingly, turn one's attention to multivariate Calculus and Static Physics and the Industrial Malleability of That Great God-Send Steel, and other such horrors. Well, suffice to say, it didn't work on me, but there was one interesting thing I learned (what a cheap, insulting word) in that class, which was that ART, as a Platonic ideal, was inexhaustable, meaning that no matter how many times you went back to and interacted with it, it still rewarded new things, it utterly failed to bore you, and that it was true art and could never wither.
What a load of pretentious crap, both then, and now from me. Anyway, before the Scotch Ale too effectively cripples my poor beleaguered digits, I'd like to say, if anyone is still reading, and I must thank your extreme and endlessly suffering diligence if, at this most riculous point, you still are, that while movies like Ferry to Hong Kong may be shallow tripe and need only a single viewing, that something like F for Fake requires many, many interactions before one can grasp the depths, or even the the purpose, of it, and therefore I'm voting that Fake is not only my favourite Welles film (there was a single such vote in our seldomly visited poll) but, that in action, word, and deed - it is ART.
I exist, as occasionally, inebriatedly yours.
Sto Pro Veritate