So much to see and so few days in which to see it. That ought to be the motto of the Asheville Film Festival, especially since each year the competition entries get better and the number of films that make it into the final selection increase in number. By some strange alchemy, there always seems to be one more title on the features list each year. That may be partly illusory, but I know there were 13 features last year and 14 this year. I ought to know, because I sat through all 14 in two days.

This year it’s going to be especially hard for people to make choices on what to be sure to catch in the competition films, because the noncompetition special screenings—the opening and closing night films, the retrospectives etc.—are so strong. You’ve got a festival that begins with Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler, starring Mickey Rourke, and ends with Danny Boyle’s Slumdog Millionaire. Both films have already been called among the best—if not the best—films of the year by critics at other festivals. It’s pretty hard to resist the chance to see these movies before they officially open later in the year—or where Asheville is concerned, possibly even into next year. Add in the fact that Danny Boyle in particular is a favorite hereabouts, for movies like 28 Days Later ..., Millions and Sunshine. Slumdog Millionaire is going to be a hot ticket.

There are also the retrospective films, which among other things, offer the chance to see some not-so-new gems of filmmaking the way they were intended: on a movie screen and with an audience. This round you’ve got such titles as Cool Hand Luke, Dog Day Afternoon (both scripted by festival honoree Frank Pierson), a 20th anniversary showing of Child’s Play and an ultra-rare screening of John Huston’s Wise Blood, starring festival honoree Brad Dourif. We’re talking some pretty tasty stuff here, and we haven’t even gotten to the competition features.

Of the 14 competition feature films that made the festival, I only saw one that had me scratching my head as to just how it managed to get in. (There’s always one, it seems, and it’s that way at every film festival.) That’s a pretty good average, though. Oh, I’m not saying I necessarily liked all 13 other films—a couple just weren’t my dish of tea—but I had no trouble understanding why they were accepted, nor did I doubt their appeal or basic quality, and quite a few impressed me strongly.

As was the case last year, there’s pretty much something for everybody in the features. I’m a little surprised that the horror genre is so poorly represented this year. If anything, horror is usually over-represented at film festivals, because everybody out to make a movie appears to think the genre is the best way to go. Last year, for example, there were at least four entries that qualified as horror (five if you want to count the faith-based The List, but let’s not).

This year we’re down to one: Stomp! Shout! Scream!, and it’s more of a spoof than actual horror. The film is an attempt—largely successful—to duplicate cheesy 1950s and ‘60s fright flicks with a Beach Party infusion. Sharp genre fans will recognize nods to Them, The Blob and The Horror of Party Beach for starters. Also, you might spot assistant director Alex Orr (who made last year’s runner-up Blood Car in a small role as a dimwitted deputy early in the film). Personally, I could’ve used a little more horror and a little less deliberately clunky dialogue, but that was part and parcel of the movies it draws from and there are benefits from sticking to the form. At the same time, the movie’s best moment—a song about a venereal disease—definitely doesn’t adhere to formula.

The Caller, a thriller from Richard Ledes, starring Frank Langella and Elliot Gould, is particularly fine. Deliberately paced (read: don’t be expecting a lot of gunplay and car chases), beautifully photographed and even more beautifully acted, this is in the “must-see” category. It’s a film that generates that all too rare moviegoing response of truly wanting to know what’s going to happen next. Solid characterizations and strong dialogue boost the film immeasurably.

If you’re looking for lighter fare, there’s Brian Hecker’s delightful, witty and charming Bart Got a Room, a coming-of-age comedy focused on the prom and set in a wonderfully tacky Miami. Both the setting and the experiences are masterfully evoked. Steven Kaplan in the lead role (no, he’s not Bart, whom we rarely see) is excellent, and he gets terrific support from some old pros like William H. Macy as his father and Cheryl Hines (the sassy waitress from Waitress) as his mother. There’s also a terrific cameo from 2006 Asheville Film Festival honoree Jennifer Tilly as a sex-crazed woman Macy hooks up with from an online chatroom. It’s a very funny movie with a generous heart.

Also on the lighter side is the deliciously quirky Irish film Speed Dating from writer/director Tony Herbert, which manages to combine elements of comedy, romance, mystery and even a few thrills within its confines. The cast—headed up by Hugh O’Connor and Emma Choy—is very fine and likable, and there are some great supporting roles. The deftness with which the various elements are handled is surprising and the whole movie is simply a pleasure.

More comedy comes your way in the entertaining multistory film Route 30 from writer/director John Putch. As is often the case with films using this approach, it has a strong first story, a middling center one and a bang-up finale. It’s not quite in the same league as Bart Got a Room or Speed Dating, but it’s very agreeable and entertaining. The whole film would be worth it for Dana Delany’s (from TV’s Desperate Housewives) foul-mouthed, hard-drinking Amish woman, but there’s a lot more to recommend it than just that.

Personally, I think there needs to be a moratorium on mockumentaries. These things threaten to become more prolific than cockroaches. I’d at least suggest that all film festivals limit themselves to no more than one a year. This year, we have three. Two of them, I’ll concede, are actually pretty good. Being Michael Madsen is clever and funny and has enough star power to help put it over. Fans of the cult actor will be delighted, while everyone else will at least be amused and entertained. A sharp script that pokes fun at the silly excesses of the avant-garde raises Off Off Broadway to a much higher level than might be expected. And then there’s 4th and Long. I’m not going to mince words about this one. Let me just say that I threatened to slap one of the members of the group that rated it so highly that it made it into the festival, and leave it at that.

There’s heavier fare in Kevan Tucker’s The Unidentified. Every festival has at least one angst-driven film about the plight of twenty-somethings. I think there may even be a law to that effect. But I’ll have to say that this is one of the best examples of this sort of film I’ve seen and it’s definitely worth consideration. The acting is solid, as are the production values and the script. Heavier still is Chris Young’s Homeland, which deals with a Marine on a furlough from the war in Iraq—a subject that has in the past proved to be box-office poison with mainstream and even artsier audiences. In all honesty, Homeland is far better—and more penetrating—than its Hollywood counterparts, and I hope that festival-goers give it a fair hearing; it deserves one.

And then there’s Nina Paley’s Sita Sings the Blues, which has won award after award at a raft of film festivals. I confess when the film was first mentioned to me, it merely garnered a skeptical look. What possible interest could I have in a computer-animated feature that combines the Indian epic Ramayana with a parallel story about a modern romance? Then I was told it was largely set to 1920s and ‘30s recordings by jazz vocalist Annette Hanshaw and I was even more perplexed. (I didn’t even know who Annette Hanshaw was—and this is coming from someone whose music collection includes such names as Jack Hylton, George Olsen and His Music, the Cliquot Club Eskimos and the Ipana Troubadors, all from the same era.) Well, I was wrong to be skeptical—dead wrong.

Sita is simply amazing (and so is Annette Hanshaw, by the way). A blend of animation styles ranging from things that recall the trippiness of Yellow Submarine, to some limited modern animation to Lotte Reineger’s cut-out “shadow puppet” style of the 1920s, to Terry Gilliam’s Monty Python animations. Add a witty script and wonderful music (more than just the Hanshaw recordings) and you have something remarkable—and one of the festival’s absolutely essential offerings. Do not miss this one!

Now, these are my recommendations. Make your own choices. Look over the listings, and see what’s available. There’s almost certainly something there for every taste. No, you can’t see it all, but see what you can. It’s worth it.