Ezekiel -- Zeke to his friends -- strode regally through the lobby of the Charles Theater yesterday like a king lording over his castle.
It was the first full day of the Maryland Film Festival 2000, and Zeke, whose owner is festival founder Jed Dietz, was reveling in his 15 minutes of fame. After all, it's not every day the mocha-colored standard poodle gets to mingle at such an affair with his canine buddies, who were invited to Friday morning's screening of "A.J.'s Dogumentary." Directed by A.J. Poulin, the film offers a comic glimpse into the often obsessive world of dog lovers.
Stephanie Garmey, her 3-year-old daughter Olivia in tow, brought her black mutt Jasper to show and said she was thrilled to learn dogs were welcome.
"I thought I'd take him out so he could see what he's been missing," Garmey said. "I just hope he won't take a leak on anything."
Down the hallway, Jeff Howard's 7-month-old Bichon Frise, Daphne, strained at her leash to sniff another dog while Howard waited for his wife to use the phone. "We were worried we were the only people who would be stupid enough to show up with a dog," he said.
He needn't have worried. About a dozen dogs attended the screening and, except for a few barks, sat quietly and were rewarded for their obedience with free Frisbees and dog biscuits. Poulin, his black lab, Zoie, beside him, said he was taken aback when festival programming coordinator Gabe Wardell suggested opening the screening to dogs.
"At first I was like, `Aren't they just going to pee all over and bark?' " said Poulin, as several dogs passed by with their owners and checked out the star of his film. "But I'm open minded."
The presence of dogs seemed fitting for a festival lauded for being as eclectic and quirky as the city it's held in. This year's lineup includes more than 100 films over four days; they range from cult features to classics such as the "Wizard of Oz" and "Lawrence of Arabia." Todd Rohal, whose short "Single Spaced" was showing Friday afternoon, saw the festival as a microcosm of Baltimore itself.
"It really sums up Baltimore pretty well -- it's got the extremes," said Rohal, kicking back on a couch in the Charles Theater's lobby. Nearby, film buffs pored over schedules, and filmmakers milled about. The morning's sparse crowd began growing as the day wore on.
