I've been to a lot of film festivals, but none quite like Miami. At the hotel, for example, pneumatically perfect women lounge topless and nearly bottomless on the chaise lounges and enormous mattresses alongside the lantern-lit pool. Walk down Lincoln Road Mall to the movie theatre and you pass a man with no arms painting with his feet, another man walking six Italian greyhounds, hundreds of scantily clad college students on Spring Break, assorted clowns, tanned panhandlers, myriads of tourists, scores of upscale bistros and boutiques and a million parrots squawling in the palm tress.