Auditions for the Independent Film Channel's new show, Ultimate Film Fanatic, were held across the nation around Valentine's Day. In Phoenix, cinephiles from all over fought for a spot to compete on the Beat the Geeks takeoff for various rewards, including a chance at $5,000, hosting network programming for a day, and, if nothing else, a weekend in L.A.

Some heavy-duty movie buffs packed the Arizona territory that February afternoon. They weren't hard to spot -- a young emaciated goth with a Clockwork Orange tat on his left shoulder, an unemployed computer programmer yammering on about the French New Wave, a zip-lipped recluse whose underarm was perpetually occupied by a poster for an obscure Polish western, and, of course, a couple hundred knuckle-dragging, slack-jawed Star Wars geeks, fully clad in this season's hottest Corellian bounty hunter gear.

Alas, only six amateur aficionados were selected for the Southwest regional episode, which was shot in Tinsel Town a couple of weeks later (and which aired last weekend). One of them was Derek Williams, a non-geeky, relatively normal-looking Fort Worthian with vast cinematic knowledge and, weirdly enough, a fondness for Coreys Haim and Feldman and other '80s "icons." "People are always coming up to me at parties," Williams said. "They're always quizzing me, and I just can't stand it. Now if I'm on tv, that's different."

Seriously, this guy burns for movies the way Rain Main does for telephone books. Williams has seen The Goonies more than 150 times. He keeps an autographed VHS copy of Dream a Little Dream under his pillow at night. And when he's not brushing up on his Brat Pack facts, he's watching Lucas backwards or exploring the career of Billy Jacoby, an actor whose pan flashed years ago in Parker Lewis Can't Lose and Just One of the Guys.

Williams' noggin expands beyond the universe of John Hughes, Ralph Macchio, and Dudley "Booger" Dawson to encompass Quentin Tarantino, Paul Bartel, and Jon Favreau's Swingers. Whatever he doesn't know, he looks up on the internet. IFC put his encyclopedic knowledge to the test on that February afternoon.

During auditions, "they were asking about Jean Luc Godard and the '80s Breathless remake -- I knew all about that," Williams said. "Most people were a lot older than me, too. They were like, 'What the hell is this?' I just don't think they knew what they were getting into." Williams must have scored high, because only three days after he flew home, he found his posterior back in coach, headed for sunny California.

His second stay was short, as was his appearance on the 10-year-old cable network. His sudden-death stumper: "What brand of whiskey did Bill Murray endorse in Lost in Translation?" ("Make it Suntory time.") "Seriously, some of those guys were so weak," Williams said. "If I would have got past that stupid question, I would've taken it all home."

Williams was sent home instead, though he's not sore about it. Unlike Dustin Hoffman's Oscar-winning caricature, Williams can function in the real world. In between visits to Blockbuster, he's worked odd jobs, for Papa John's, Miller Brewing Company, and Bennigan's, and he's been writing a screenplay. He's also maintained a girlfriend, an achievement for a 22-year-old shacked up with his folks and committed to the Coreys. (Then again, what woman could resist a man capable of rattling off all the characters from Monster Squad? Hot!) But it's not an issue for Williams, wearing that adorable, non-threatening, non-geeky, All-American-boy smile.l