IT WAS CLEAR that the Maryland Film Festival was going to be a laid-back affair as early as Friday morning, when Zeke, organizer Jed Dietz's standard poodle, could be seen padding in and out of the auditoriums of the newly expanded Charles Theatre.

The message: Get some popcorn, kick back and enjoy.

The almost cozy temperament of the first edition of the new festival was anticipated the night before, when director Barry Levinson showed a rough cut of a documentary called "Diner Guys," a big-screen home movie that was warmly received by an audience at the crowded Senator Theatre.

Relaxed, unpretentious and designed to appeal to a wide range of tastes, the Maryland Film Festival clearly valued art more than attitude.

And it was a ringing success by anyone's measure.

From "Diner Guys" to yesterday's enchanting presentation of the 1924 film "Peter Pan," which was accompanied by a live 11-piece orchestra, the festival drew healthy crowds who appreciated the eclectic program, which was obviously fashioned with the secret ingredient of any festival: love.

Inside the theaters (festival movies were shown in all five Charles auditoriums, as well as the Orpheum in Fells Point), the emotional power of film was proven over and over again.

"Pastor Hall," a 1940 film that was originally banned because it showed the beginnings of the Holocaust too graphically, brought a few filmgoers to their feet after its showing Friday morning, and emerged as a festival favorite after it was screened again on Sunday.

Friday afternoon, a sold-out and supportive audience saw the Polish filmmakers Jerzy Hoffman and Jerzy Michaluk introduce their sweeping historical epic "With Fire and Sword."

Meanwhile, filmgoers in another auditorium heard Mayor Kurt L. Schmoke's introduction to "The Godfather," which he said he watched on election night in 1982, when he became state's attorney, and has watched every election night since (and quite rightly, apparently).

That night,

John Waters presented "Boom!" a rarely seen camp classic that has so many surreal moments that filmgoers must have woken up the next day confused about what they had seen. ("Was that really Richard Burton chasing a monkey on a terrace in Sardinia dressed in a Samurai robe?")

Talking film

If the screenings themselves were fun, the scene in the Charles' magnificent new lobby was positively bracing, as filmgoers, filmmakers and apparatchiks milled about and chatted, sipping coffee and munching on wrap sandwiches or popcorn.

On Saturday, another full house enjoyed "American Hollow," a documentary about an Appalachian family filmed with great insight and sensitivity by Rory Kennedy.

Many stayed for "The Brandon Teena Story," another non-fiction film, which told a fascinating true-crime tale involving homophobia, gender and identity. Later on Saturday, a sold-out audience heard the painter Donald Sultan introduce "Il Gattopardo" ("The Leopard"), Luis Visconti's rarely seen epic about an Italian nobleman contemplating the end of his way of life, and one of the most lavish and visually stunning movies ever made.

On Sunday morning, the Charles was overrun with kids waiting to see "Peter Pan," which was presented by the local film restorer David Pierce.

This delightful silent movie, accompanied by Philip Carli's outstanding musicians, was probably the festival's most magical moment. Few moviegoing experiences can compare to the thrill of hearing live music swell as the first credits come up. It also came as a reminder that, at its best, film has always been an interactive art. This was underscored when the audience enthusiastically clapped Tinker Bell back to life.

A few bumps

There were all the glitches to be expected during a festival's first year, but they were minor and gratifyingly few -- especially considering that the weekend also marked the shakedown cruise of the newly expanded Charles. Screenings started late and some were interrupted by equipment failures.

But often the technical difficulties presented opportunities for even more delightful surprises, such as the costume designer Alexander Julian narrating the first five minutes of "Duck Soup" when the sound went out. (The Charles projectionists deserve special mention for handling the daunting task of showing more than 50 films over three days with aplomb and care.)

Parking didn't seem to be the problem many expected, although some visitors were locked out of the Penn Station parking lot, as well as the lot across the street from the Charles, Thursday night.

In fact, the two biggest problems will be the easiest to fix. The festival needs to get its program information out earlier next year, and not just titles but enough information about the movies so filmgoers can plan. Also, the program was difficult to read and contained some schedule mistakes, and the grids need to be bigger.

And the festival must fix its pricing structure. All-access passes for $250 are financially inaccessible to most film fans, as are the individual ticket prices of $10 (most festivals charge around $6 or $7 for individual screenings). Day passes at a reduced rate would also be a good idea.

Better outreach and pricing might also go a long way in making the festival more diverse. Although it was gratifying to see so many faces in the Charles lobby, most of those faces were white. The festival programmed some intriguing repertory films from filmmakers of color ("Do the Right Thing," "The Cool World," "Sparkle"), but it needs to include more current fare and cast the net wider. Again, an easy problem to fix as festival organizers grow and expand their advisory network.

Still, it must be noted that some lines were crossed. One of the most moving moments came when Dietz announced that Sultan was at the Maryland Institute, College of Art, critiquing the work of painting students. Hoffman and Michaluk had just come from the Walters Art Gallery, where they had seen the museum's current exhibition of Polish art. These are important emblematic moments, suggesting that film can become part of the broader cultural fabric of the city.

Working together

In the same vein, it was wonderful to see Baltimore's theater owners work together for the greater cinematic good: the city's three independent theaters, the Charles, the Orpheum and the Senator, were all key venues (even the Bengies' Dee Vogel pitched in as a projectionist). These alliances augur a strong future in Baltimore for films that are shown out of passion and commitment to art, rather than business as usual.

Dietz has made it clear that he sees the Maryland Film Festival as an economic generator for the city, attracting tourists and filmmakers from all along the East Coast and, eventually, the rest of the world. If he and programming consultant Gabe Wardell continue what they started this weekend, that might well happen.

In the meantime, Baltimore film fans should appreciate the Maryland Film Festival while it's still the intimate celebration of cinemaphilia that it is.