I'm going to advocate that Oscar bloggers, much like starting pitchers, should be on rotation with mandatory rest years in-between. But before I start my online petition, I figured I'd muse on today's Oscar nominations from my completely uninformed point of view.

This weekend "Young Hollywood" temporarily relocates from L.A. and the the fun of Sundance is finding the gems, the insightful needles among the indie haystacks. Slight skepticism aside, I've found at least one small gem so far.

The movie gods smiled on us coastal transplants Saturday as a clear, sun-kissed day kept the temperatures a respectable shiver away from abominable. It actually made it bearable to catch up with friends. But at the heart of it all: movies.

There's always a film at the festival pretty much everyone agrees is worth it. This year it's Fruitvale. And the question that's really on your mind, presuming you haven't seen it already, I'll just answer straight out. Yes, it's that good.

As your time in Park City stretches on, you enter a sort of cinematic fatigue where all the films you've seen start blending into one gigantic bowl of indie chow mein. When you do get some sleep, the good films rise to the surface of your snow-battered consciousness.

As Sundance heads into its mythic second weekend -- of which many have heard but few dare endure -- all trappings of mainstream movie civilization fall away: plot resolution, reliable narrators, temporal continuity.