Synecdoche, New York

Behold the first trailer that I've seen on-line for Synecdoche, New York. I initially plugged this film into the Excellent bucket below, but am more and more inclined to slide it up to the top tier.

It's an example of the best kind of film: one that only nips you at first pass but gets stronger and stronger every day after that. Truth is, I can't stop thinking about it.

Toronto Wrap

32 films in the end. A pretty glorious week to be honest.

If I balance the wins against the misses, it would seem that I came out ahead by a mile. I missed only a couple of must-sees (most of which I can make up in regular theatres in the weeks and months to come) and saw virtually all of the top titles on my list.

In summary, here's what worked and what didn't, pretty much in the order in which they thrilled me...

Best Of The Best
(aka the titles I can't wait to watch again and again!)
One Week (favourite by a mile),
O'Horten
Hunger (unlike anything I've ever seen)
The Wrestler
Unmistaken Child
Waltz With Bashir

Excellent
(aka worth seeing again, strong recommendations; this is what the festival is all about!)
Il y a longtemps que je t'aime
Synecdoche, New York
It Might Get Loud
The Hurt Locker
Pontypool
Not Quite Hollywood
Dungeon Masters
Fauborg 36

Very Good If Flawed
(aka titles that really want to be on the Excellent list, but which stumbled in or out of the gate):
The Brothers Bloom
Appaloosa

Great, Not For Everyone
(aka titles I enjoyed a lot but which made me want to throw up in my mouth a little)
Martyrs
Vinyan

Not Bad, Not Great, Just Fine
(aka not necessarily worth paying for parking, but certainly worth an inexpensive rental)
Wendy and Lucy
Zift
Nick & Nora's Infinite Playlist
The Burrowers
Is There Anybody There?
The Sky Crawlers

Is It Too Late to Exchange the Tickets for Something Else?
(aka we live to learn)
Adam Resurrected
Toronto Stories
Good
$9.99
Universalove
Blind Loves

Nothing to Say, Move On
Passchendaele

Disappointed That I Missed...
(in order of disappointment)
Slumdog Millionaire (the great must-see of the week that I couldn't see; it burns me all the more that it's won the People's Choice award)
Lovely, Still
The Good, The Bad, The Weird (rotten new TIFF Elgin policies...grumble...)
Chocolate (the last Midnight screening!)
Tokyo Sonata
Tears for Sale
Still Walking
Disgrace
Gigantic
Rachel Getting Married

Sounds Like It Was a Good Thing I Traded My Ticket
(aka buzz pretty ugly, no make-up required)
Uncertainty
Sauna

Friday (TIFF Day 9)

The Last Day. And the steam is quickly spilling from the engine. For what has been a thoroughly excellent Festival week, this last line-up was a little weak. Not so much a fireworks finale to the festival as a artful ending in a minor key. Somewhat appropriate to the tone of the festival, I guess.

Adam Resurrected ~ It's a pity that Jeff Goldblum's performance in this film is so magnificent, because it may never be entirely appreciated. That's what happens when you achieve your best work in the middle of a film that is otherwise an absolute mess. And Paul Schrader's film is every inch a mess. Stacked to the lid with clever but unfinished ideas, it seems like the writers of the film never got past the brain-storming process; the film is all concept and no cohesion.

The central idea for the film is good: a popular German clown is forced to play "dog" to the commander of a Nazi concentration camp. Following the war, he has completely and understandably lost his shit and now leads a troupe of insane oddballs at an experimental Israeli mental hospital. As the clown/dog/leader of misfits, Goldblum is spell-binding, using all of his familiar tics and mannerisms to create a fully fleshed lunatic (who may or may not also have mystical powers). It helps that Goldblum plays the role with a thick German accent, just enough innovation to make his otherwise familiar speaking patterns seem entirely fresh. The performance is equal parts easy charm, eccentricity and intelligence and is by itself enough to me to recommend this film. After all, despite the fact that I could never invest in what was happening in the story, I didn't check my watch once. I was completely enthralled by Goldblum's intoxicating spectacle for 106 minutes.

[Note that Willem Dafoe is also in the film, playing the role of the Nazi commander that forces Goldblum to become his dog. In contrast to Goldblum, Dafoe doesn't seem to match the game at all, instead delivering the same-old same-old Dafoe intensity seen in 100 other better films.]

***

Il y a longtemps que je t'aime (I've Loved You So Long) ~ A simmering and devastating film. In fact, the movie unfolds so carefully and with such restraint, that it would be easy to underestimate the depth of emotion going on here. Nevertheless, there are volcanoes of pain to be uncovered.

The story didn't sound interesting to me and I almost gave it a pass: Kristin Scott Thomas plays a woman reunited with her sister after a 15 year absence. Big hoo-ha. But where she has been and why she was gone is the spine of the story and I wouldn't dream of giving anything away. It's clear from the first minute of the film that KST is carrying enormous psychological scars. This is a film where 90% of what is felt goes unspoken. KST's expressions (or lack thereof) are carved in stone and she provides virtually no clues in her performance (apart from the 1000-yard stare which shows up whenever she isn't otherwise speaking to someone).

I should be clear. This movie is incredible. For a movie that plays so slowly and sparely, it's a complete sledgehammer. The pace of the film reminds me of a gripping novel: you're compelled to stay with what's happening to get at the grand secret and in turn savour every small crumb of information dropped from the table. Scenes frequently swell towards an emotional climax and end before we can be satisfied by a complete revelation (or catharsis). Information (when it comes) is delivered so casually that you barely notice as the complete picture is being filled in. The emotional storm gathers invisibly until it finally erupts in the final scenes as a small typhoon of grief. I can't stress enough how much restraint is shown by the writer and director to give the audience as little as possible while always giving just enough. There are no wasted beats in this movie.

This is Kristin Scott Thomas' year. Her performance in this film is a master-class on minimalism to huge effect. I've never been so absorbed by anything she's done before and will quickly join the camp of fans who think the Best Actress Oscar is hers to lose at this point in the year. Her face and eyes will be one of the many highlights that stick with me beyond this festival. Don't be put off by the arty title and mediocre-sounding synopsis. This film is worth every minute you can give it.

***

Good ~ There isn't much to recommend about Good. Here's the worst kind of film to encounter on the last day of a festival. Good is neither especially great or notably bad. It's simply mediocre. Boring.

Viggo Mortensen plays a German literary professor who, on the strength of a novel he has published, is recruited into the Nazi party and the SS. The hook is that he does not believe in Nazi principles and, in what is probably the only actual sub-text of the film, represents the Good German who joined the parades without much thought about where the party was headed. A premise of this sort hangs on how well it is executed. The synopsis I've described basically covers all the conflict and without strong characters and rich direction, the film is destined to be bland. This movie is Weetabix-without-the-sugar bland.

If I could put my finger on what doesn't work in Good, it would be that the film never seems to reach for anything beyond the most basic drama. There are absolutely no layers to be found in the movie and no surprises at all. The film makers seems to have settled for the easiest, most direct decisions throughout. Even Viggo, who can normally be counted on to bring it, phones in a strangely flat performance with an put-on English accent (he's German??)

A disappointing turn for the last afternoon at the festival. Especially in light of the fact that I opted for this title over a couple other highly praised flicks in the same time slot (Tokyo Sonata, Killing Kasztner). You can't win them all.


***

$9.99 ~ Another risky experimental pick that didn't work out. $9.99 attracted me with its combination of stylish stop-motion animation and quirky subject matter. Unfortunately, neither element really delivers.

The animation is certainly unique, but I was turned off by the waxy, painted characters. Mouths and eyes (which are off-colour and frankly ugly) are distracting and instead of increasing my enjoyment of the film, they frequently pulled me out. To be honest, this wasn't a film made more interesting by using nontraditional actors. It's a hideous little project to watch.

Still, I'm not sure that this movie would have worked for me as a live-action film either. The premise of following a variety of unusual characters living in a shared apartment block has potential (it's clear at several points that it came from a literary source), but I couldn't find any of the plot threads interesting. In fact, this one of those rare multi-character mosaics where I confess that I didn't find anyone worth watching. No characters to like and no characters to latch onto.

I'm going to stick with Robot Chicken for all my clever, stylish stop-motion from here on out. Thanks.

***

The Dungeon Masters ~ Not to put undue pressure on the last film of my festival, but I wanted this documentary to be brilliant. It was actually just very, very good.

Dungeon Masters is the latest in the crop of documentaries that focus on bizarre sub-cultures and follow the most eccentric oddballs through their daily lives (a spiritual cousin to King Of Kong or Spellbound, but without the story momentum of those competitions.) The documentary looks at the most extreme adult gamers, people who dress up for comic convention and spend an awful amount of time and money on roll-playing games like Dungeons & Dragons. I could pretty much hear Ogre's voice playing in my head throughout ("Neeeeeeeeeeerds!!")

The film focuses on three personalities: a family-man trying to kick-start a fantasy novel and public-access television show (the pitch: "At the mid-point of every episode, ninjas attack!"), a games-master who has earned a reputation for killing off beloved D&D characters and clearly fosters a God-complex as it relates to role-playing games, and finally a young woman with boyfriend issues who seems to spend as much of her time in dark-elf make-up as out of it (see the photo above and imagine what her pillow case looks like.)

Nevertheless, Dungeon Masters works because it gets under the skin of its subjects without outwardly mocking them in any way. Most of the characters in the film lampoon themselves with their own words, and much of the humour (there's lots of it) comes from how seriously they take themselves (and their gaming). Amid this peculiar spectacle, there are currents of sweetness and loneliness. Once you get past the extreme and bizarre personality types, it's tough to ignore that these are real people with real problems. Their passion for Dungeons & Dragons comes from a lot of different places, and it was tough for me not to recognize their passion and irrational enthusiasm (this from a guy who watched 32 films this week...)

Great fun and a very good way to end the festival.

Thursday (TIFF Day 8)

Synecdoche, New York ~ I suppose that I’d forgotten what a hurricane force Charlie Kaufman was when he burst onto the scene with Being John Malkovich and Adaptation. It’s easy enough to take those films for granted almost a decade later. But Synecdoche, New York has reminded me that Kaufman is an original, exciting and entirely boundless voice.

Synecdoche isn’t a masterpiece, but it’s a puzzle constructed with so much energy and imagination that it would be easy to mistake it for one. There’s no exaggerating the scope of Kaufman’s ideas here. Any attempt to try and summarize the film is pointless because, like any great and multi-layered work, it is what it is. If you want to fill in the rest of that sentence, you’ll need to see it for yourself.

Here’s what I can say for certain. The story starts in one place and finishes in quite another. Like a spiral of deeply neurotic plotting, the movie begins on a fairly level plain (Philip Seymour Hoffman plays a hypochondriac theatre-director with urges of infidelity for a co-worker played by Samantha Morton) but as the film progresses, the story gradually spins deeper and deeper into Kaufman lunacy. (The first signpost is when Samantha Morton purchases a house that is already on fire and then moves in as flames surround her). Time itself becomes malleable as the film leaps forward by years and Kaufman begins to stuff the story with more and more outrageous ideas.

By the time the film hits running speed, I found myself expecting one scene or another to be revealed as a dream or fantasy; however everything that happens is real for the characters. Kaufman cranks the meta-fiction meter until the fourth wall has been entirely blown out, and there are literally actors playing actors playing characters playing actors playing characters. Furthermore, a complex warehouse-sized set that Hoffman’s character has constructed for his “play” includes sets of the locations around the warehouse and also the warehouse itself (which includes a further replica of the warehouse and so on and so on). By the final act, the film has hit the mental dexterity of staring into infinite mirrors. It’s dazzling to unravel and virtually every disparate element works.

A lot of people left this movie scratching their heads and grumbling down the aisle. I can understand the feeling but found there was no shortage of enjoyment in the tangled chaos of Synecdoche. Still, despite the intellectual exercise, it’s not that hard to understand. I look forward to jumping back into Kaufman's bizarre meta-world again.

***

Toronto Stories ~ A mixed bag really. As an anthology of stories that unfold in Toronto, the film provides a lovely postcard of the city, and there’s a lot of fun to be had in recognizing familiar street corners and store fronts. However, as it relates to the “Stories” portion of the title, the film is a little uncooked. There are four vignettes of varying quality, all connected by the conceit of a young boy who has arrived to Toronto, escaped custody at Pearson Airport and wanders the city, unable to speak English.

The stories as follows: in the first, two kids explore a local urban legend in a Riverdale park (which turns out to be not interesting at all). In the second (titled The Brazilian) Sook-Yin Lee plays one half of a pair of strangers who connect and try to navigate a new relationship. This segment is most notable for Lee’s courage showing the full monty (read the title again and understand what step she takes to impress her new man). The third segment is about a window washer who gets inadvertently tangled up with an old friend who has escaped prison to get revenge on an ex-girl-friend. And finally, in the last and most engaging section, Gil Bellows plays a homeless man who discovers the missing young boy from the airport and embarks on a mission to rescue the child. This section works by having the highest stakes and the greatest amount of emotional commitment (the first thing only skim the surface).

Overall, an interesting film which works half the time.

***

Unmistaken Child ~ Absolutely remarkable. I expected this documentary to tell an interesting story, but wasn’t prepared for something quite this rich and emotional. What looks to be a straight-forward plot (relatively speaking) about a Buddhist monk searching for the reincarnation of his Lama teacher turns out to be less about religious dogma and much more about the friendship between two monks.

There are two levels of emotional content here, both captured from a fascinating fly-on-the-wheel perspective. The first is the journey of the central monk, who was the principle student of the Lama now believed to be reincarnated. The senior monk was a revered teacher (and father figure) who raised the junior monk from boyhood. Through the anecdotes he shares, it’s clear that there was deep friendship and affection shared between both men and that the young monk regards his quest as the most important task he could ever undertake (he describes it as “thousands and thousands of times more important” than his own life). What’s more: finding the reincarnated child sets up a beautiful cycle as the student becomes the teacher and carries the young boy in the same way he was once carried. (Shots of the two together, like uncle and nephew are striking. Also noteworthy is a scene in which the older monk shows the younger protege photographs of his former identity).

The second current of emotion is that run by the parents who learn that their young son holds a greater calling; the discovery means a tremendous honour, and terrific emotional burden. After all, releasing the child to the monastery means they may never see him again (or at the very least, not until he is much older). The camera is gentle and respectful in the scenes between parents and child but captures all of the feeling that passes as the parents make their difficult choices. In all these scenes, it's remarkable how mature the child has already become.

But I have to say it again: what a freaking story!! At times, I found myself actually hoping that someone might take this incredible journey and turn it into a more traditional feature film, not to improve on the characters themselves (which are already rich and engaging), but just so that we might better appreciate the vibrant spectacle of the Buddhist religion (robes, ornaments, etc) and the deep beauty of Tibet and India. (The film seemed to be shot on video which did a good enough job, but often seems to undersell what must be truly dazzling imagery to the naked eye.)

This is an uncommon story that is as mysterious as it is miraculous. I marvel that the film maker was entitled to this level of coverage. I couldn’t have been more satisfied.

***

Is There Anybody There? ~ A charming British comedy about the friendship between a young boy who lives at his parents’ old-age home and a retired magician (Michael Caine) who stays there. And from that simple synopsis, you can probably figure out the rest of the film all by yourself.


This movie holds about as many surprises as a slow train arriving in Saskatchewan. All of the third act pay-offs are set up in plain formula language in the first half of the movie and as a result, I found this to the be the first film of the Film Festival (it’s #27 for me) to genuinely challenge my wakefulness. Michael Caine is very good as the grumpy former magician, but isn’t given much to do beyond the obvious range of old-people emotions (alternately grumpy and sad/lonely, in an effort to alienate or endear himself to the young protagonist.)

I really wish I could have liked this more.

Wednesday (TIFF Day 6)

Wednesday is hump day. And it's no exception at the Festival.

To makes things as difficult as possible for myself, I crawled into bed at a little after 3:00 am last night, following the midnight show of The Burrowers. It took at least a half hour to get to sleep (Festing causes this problem) and the alarm went off at 6:30 this morning to roll back into the Big Smoke.

3 hours of sleep. 5 movies lined up. Let the good times roll.

Luckily, most of the films delivered enough to keep me awake and engaged (I'll get to the exceptions) but what a mill-stone to drag throughout the day (the worst sag came at about 3:00 pm. The Midnight movie wasn't a problem.)

To make things even more interesting, I parked by Ryerson at 8:30 am (since that's the theatre where I would finish after midnight) and walked over to the Scotiabank (about 20 minute walk). Except when I got there I realized that my 9 am film was actually at...the Ryerson. And this was supposed to be the day that I *didn’t* have to sprint between theatres. Oh well.

An explosive start to the day...

Hurt Locker ~ Recommended for starting a morning on 3 hours of sleep: Kathryn Bigelow's Hurt Locker. It’s better than a shot of adrenalin through the chest plate and doesn’t leave a bruise.

Apart from The Wrestler, it would seem that Hurt Locker is turning out to be the belle of the ball. With good reason. Comparisons to Full Metal Jacket are appropriate, after all here is a ground-level war movie that gets deep into process and mind-frame of soldiers in Iraq.

There are a lot of reasons that Hurt Locker works but chief among them is the opportunity to tell a war story from an angle I'm not sure we've seen before: bomb squads detonating and defusing road-side bombs in Iraq. It's a fascinating job that requires an complex type of soldier, and of course it makes for a very tense thriller. Bombs, as Hitchcock has taught us, are the ultimate movie device for ratcheting stress and anxiety. Bigelow understands this and constructs a film that raises the dramatic stakes with each remarkable set-piece. Damage could erupt in any instant.

Praise for Jeremy Renner who plays the lead role in the film and gets under the skin of the adrenalin fueled leader of the task force. (A title card at the start of the film tells us war is a drug. In that respect, Hurt Locker is the story of a junkie trying to get his next fix. ) The rest of the cast- all relative unknowns - deliver equaling strong performances: Anthony Mackie as Renner's second in command and Brian Geraghty as the softest of the three soldiers.

This is also a Kathryn Bigelow film so male bonding and male relationships play a big part in the drama. Once again, Bigelow demonstrates an uncanny ability to get inside the inner-circle of a testosterone driven team (following one exciting day, the team celebrates by getting drunk and punching each other hard in the stomach).

***

One Week ~ Boy, I didn't see this one coming.

Much like O'Horten, One Week is a film that plays to some very particular interests of mine. If O'Horten was about my love of trains, pipes and snow landscapes, One Week is about a fantasy much more primal: the westward road adventure. Only with two particular additions that make the formula even more potent - the Canadian westward motorcycle road adventure. On paper, I was certain to love the film. But like the precise mixture of O'Horten there are miles between what sounds good on paper and what works on film: music, story, character and most importantly tone.

So even expecting to like this a lot and even having build my whole Wednesday line-up around and even having blown off Slumdog Millionaire, a film desperately want to see - I didn't see this one coming down the track. I'm talking now about a complete movie-movie meltdown. I'm talking about seeing a movie that opened me up like patient on an operating table. I'm talking about a movie that had me trembling, my Canadian heart ready to burst.

That sounds pretty lame so I should back up. One Week is the story of a guy, learning he has terminal cancer (1 in 10 survival rate) lives the dream and takes a motor bike from Toronto to the Pacific Ocean. This is something I want on a genetic level ( the road trip, not the cancer). And with each province he passes through, the movie climbs further and further into my own brain-pan. By the time he reaches the Rockies, I'm a disaster. I have no doubt that this film will be popular with a wide audience but for me in particularly, it's cinematic kryptonite.

Here's what I didn't expect. I did not expect a film so particularly Canadian. Not just in terms of physical geography, but with respect to cultural geography. Touchstones like Tim Horton’s, the Tragically Hip, and Canadian Tire are dropped throughout the story in a manner that is organic rather than simply self-deprecating. It never feels like it's trying to be Canadian - it just happens to be. And that natural Northern orientation is what makes this one of the easiest and most familiar Canadian films I've ever seen. By the time Ben (Joshua Jackson) has the brief (and altogether random) opportunity to kiss the Stanley Cup (which prompts a flood of famous cup kisses), your Canadian pride must be moved. Or shriveled up.

Something else. I never expected this film to be so funny. Whimsical even. Which I suppose is another personal trap-door. Based on the log-line, you can forgive me for expecting something closer to Into the Wild. In actuality, One Week is closer to Amelie with a straight narrator providing ironic counterpoint to what's happening on-screen including random tangents into the lives and outcomes of strangers who pass through the edge of the story. And much of this is genuinely funny. In a Canadian sort of way.

Finally something has to be said about that soundtrack. Or not said maybe, since I could scarcely do it any justice. With Canadian artists like Emm Gryner (who's also in the movie) and the Great Lakes Swimmers, the songs lend the film one more reason to feel like an authentic Canadian product. Every song is a perfect fit. This soundtrack can't come fast enough.

Which brings me to the BIG problem: this film won't see wide distribution until March 2009. I would eagerly blow off any screening in the next few days to see this again, but I've etched the last of two shows. So now I wait. And I’ll probably forget. And in March 2009, the movie will probably throttle me again.

***

Short Cuts – Programme 4 ~ This being the year of the festival, it seemed like a good opportunity to wander into the Short Cuts program. There's a first time for everything and while I'd certainly chalk the experience up to being "interesting", I'm not sure it's something I'd quickly do again. Still, shorts are by definition...short, so it's a relatively painless experiment.

Here's what I saw:

A Small Thing - probably the most interesting short though it didn't feel like it at the time. Well photographed with some rich autumn-in-Toronto colours, the story centers on a girl trying to solve the mystery of her tenth birthday party which she deems to be the source of her "emptiness" in adulthood. The mystery takes a few minutes to get rolling but ultimately satisfies with a well-performed revelation on an outdoor track.

106 - the "comedy" short and certainly the most accessible. Its also the most film-school-seeming of the line-up by nature of its sharp angles and seemingly obvious direction. The short deals with a 106-year-old woman forced to deal with always being second fiddle to the woman born just minutes earlier.

Machine with Wishbone - very artful and very clever. No story to speak of but the short shows off some imaginative design work as a machine built from springs and a chicken bone leaps into motion. A great soundtrack amplifies the experience and makes for an easy and enjoyable experiment. Looks like it was really really hard to do.

Pierce, Crush, Escape - now we're getting into The Beyond. This abstract short is really Fine Art, tracking some crude pen and ink sketches against a hard, industrial soundtrack. Hypnotic and challenging, but a tough sit for someone on little sleep. This is getting pretty far from movies and into the artful world of Film. Which is OK if you're into that.

Uniform Material - not to be too blunt but this was the biggest waste of time of the program. Inexplicably, a man starting a new job as a security guard creates a uniform from scratch, blacking out his hiking boots with a black marker and dying his pants in the bathtub. All set up. No pay off.

Victor Gazon - cute. A child in elementary school constructs a project on suicide, balancing the pros and cons by listing the things he likes and doesn't like. Touches a few bases that may should be universal childhood memories.

In a rush for Blind Loves, I didn't stick around for Whitmore Park or La Battue (which is a shame, as I really wanted to see that last one.)

Still, a worthy experiment.

***

Blind Loves ~ Just what the hell was that? Talk about walking into the wrong movie.

By its description in the TIFF catalogue, Blind Loves is a Slovakian doc that looks at the relationship of a variety of blind couples. Sounds like a ripe and almost certainly sweet subject matter to me.

The actual product is virtually impenetrable. The camera acts like a fly-on-the-wall giving us a slice of life in the days and weeks of its subjects. And frankly, there's not a lot of romance to be found here. The first couple, clearly married a long time, sit, listen to the TV, smoke and knit. Until things get bug-crazy and the stop motion sea creatures take over their ennui. The second couple are motivated a bit more by straight up booty call (she seems sweet, he seems grateful for someone to sleep with). The third are having a baby and are worried about what it will take to look after it (OK, this one is rather touching). And the last one is a teenage girl trying to find a boyfriend on-line.

The big disappointment here is that the doc didn't work for me on any level; not as an instructional piece, not as a character study, and not as a "welcome-to-this-alternate-world" tour. I like my entertainment to be pretty messed up, but there was nothing to hang onto and float in this.

(And just to dip my toe into a bigger issue and then refuse to elaborate, I wasn't convinced that the filmmakers weren't simply exploiting their subjects here.)

***

Martyrs ~ I won't be able to un-see Martyrs.

During the intro, the director wouldn't promise enjoyment of his film but hoped that the audience would share an intense cinema experience. I braced myself for a rocky ride. Very very rocky. This, after all, was the French horror film which received the equivalent of X rating in France; stranger still because the rating was provoked by the violence in the film (there is no sex in the movie). This, after all, was film reputed to be one of the hardest, most upsetting and challenging films to be added to the Midnight Madness program. Not usually my cup of tea but I still felt I should see it. Call it a dare.

What's remarkable about Martyrs is that it's really two films in one. The first half is rip-snorting horror movie that moves at about 100 mph, complete with vengeful spirits, domestic slaughter and lots and lots of knives. Great gore, good frights and a compelling revenge drama.

Then the tone shifts. And there's that second half. Lordy...

I won't spoil anymore except to agree with the suggestion that Martyrs is about a whole lot more than gore and controversy. This is not Hostel and it's not about empty violence. There's a lot going on in that second half and while I night wish I could un-see it when I climb into bed tonight, it's a movie ride worth taking.

Well, worth taking for the 2% of the population that can handle it.

The Festival Snowballs

19 movies in. 5 movies per day. Not nearly enough sleep. The movies are finally starting to bleed together.

It’s happening in a good way. In a cool way. In a social experiment sort of way. Characters from one movie are confused with another. Ideas that are set up in the 10:00 film are paying off in the 5:00 film. Locations are starting to blur. It’s all turning into one big mushy ball of organic matter. But fun nonetheless.

Examples:

- in Zift, a film title which literally translates to shit, I find myself thinking that there a few too many poop and fart jokes. The best of them is when a character visits London where there is literally dog crap on the sidewalk everywhere he goes. Then I remember: that bit wasn’t in Zift at all. It was an old gag referenced with respect to an Aussie Ocker comedy in Not Quite Hollywood.

- Zift again. I get a sense that our female protagonist will betray and devour the hero and recall some foreshadowing to that effect. Suddenly I can’t remember if said foreshadowing was in this film or not (turns out it was.)

- in Brothers Bloom, it becomes apparent that one of the principle themes of the movie is storytelling, which helps to explain all the random side-bar anecdotes that pepper the first half of the movie. Except the tangents I’m thinking of happened in Zift.

- Evangeline Lilly sits in front of me at the premiere screening of The Wrestler and then turns in a bit part in Kathryn Bigelow’s Hurt Locker. For a moment I’m confused. Was Mickey Rourke fighting in Iraq?

I’m dead serious about all this. These are the sort of sharp angles that my brain has been cutting in the last two days. And so it goes.

May the movie gods help me when actors begin to cross over from movie to movie (due to begin happening shortly).

Tuesday (TIFF Day 6)

A late start today (my first film was at 2:30) but still able to squeeze in five flicks. Today also marks the first day that I've overstretched myself by timing movies just a little too close together. I've had to run-subway-run to two movies this afternoon, making the trip from Dundas to the Varsity in less than 15 minutes. Not recommended. In the future, I'll need to remember that every movie ends 15-20 minutes later than scheduled.

At any rate...

Not Quite Hollywood ~ Not Quite Hollywood is a frustrating film for anyone who loves movies. Frustrating not because it isn't excellent and insightful (it is!) but because the film talks in detail about a lot of exciting films that we will probably never see in Canada. At the very least, it creates a whole new shopping list of treasure-hunt DVD titles. Collectors and completists will lose their minds. (I've already started the hunt for Turkey Shoot, Man from Hong Kong and the delicious Razorback. Road Games, which I own, and the recently released Rogue have also jumped to the top of the queue).

Presented to some degree by Quentin Tarantino, Not Quite Hollywood follows the rise of Australian genre cinema of the 70's and 80's (or what the film calls "Oz-ploitation"). The film is astonishingly fun, tackling every aspect of Aussie cinema from wild sex comedies (ockers) to full-on gore and creature features to adrenalin-filled road movies (including Mad Max). Acting like a greatest hits tape, the film puts some of the scenes in context with interviews from the filmmakers. The background stories (particularly those involving Dennis Hopper) are almost as batshit-crazy as the up-front features.

The film also provides, almost by accident, a lunatic tour of Tarantino's influences (and to some degree the cinema-savant mapping of his brain). Tarantino isn't shy to point out the innovative Aussie scenes that he has co-opted or outright stolen through the years. Included is a great story about lifting elements of cult-hit Patrick for Uma's Kill Bill coma scenes.

This an amazing doc and a true love letter to a sort of drive-in cinema that most of us will never get to enjoy in a proper context. I can't wait to see it again just so I take better notes of titles and performers. There's a magnificent marathon to be found in the borders of this doc.

***

Pontypool ~ A Canadian zombie film? How could you not?

I went into this cautiously, recognizing that Bruce McDonald would not be delivering a Romero experience. In fact, the reputation was that the premise was sort of artful: the zombie virus is transmitted by language (!) There are no zombies to be "seen" in this movie. And in most respects, it's not really a zombie film at all since the afflicted are either slaughtered or still alive (as far as I could tell there was no un-dead!) Cautious or not, the final product is spectacular.

Here's one of those films that you watch without breathing - not because the tension is high, although it is - but because you are watching a film that is so delicately set up in the first two acts that you begin to worry that it won't find the right way to finish. The good news is McDonald sticks the landing (though it's worth pointing out that it's that final third that deviates the most from the traditional zombie set-up, by digging deep into the clever and sophisticated linguistics-as-virus material).

So it works in two ways: it's a smart film about communication and media, and it's also a finely-tuned horror film, watching the end-of-the-world from the perspective of a small-town radio station. And McDonald knows his horror: the decision to show us nothing outside of the basement radio station is one of the smartest. After years of zombie films, we can imagine as much or as little as we'd like. And we're trapped with the characters throughout, thinking the worst but able to confirm nothing.

Special mention should also be made to Stephen McHattie (or Canada's answer to Lance Henrickson). I could watch this guy in anything.

***

Zift ~ An atmospheric first film that could have been much much more, but nevertheless delivers the promise of some greater things to come. Lifting directly from Hollywood film noir and some classic heist films (Rififi came to my mind more than once), Zift is an imaginative crime film that is more remarkable for its visuals than its plotting.

Here is a film that introduces principle characters with names like The Mole, The Mantis, The Sloth, The Skin and The Eye. Everyone is similarly sketched with tattoos as if you couldn't keep their names straight. The plot is equally inventive, setting up the Mole's release from prison even as it flashes back to the heist (and relationship) that put him there. While every scene is dazzling in its own way, there is not enough overall sizzle to keep the plot warm throughout and Zift gets off-topic on a number of occasions. To be a classic, a movie like this needs to be constructed like a laser, but Zift trips up in colourful digressions that seem more suited to a Paul Thomas Anderson film than a crime film of this sort.

It should also be noted that this a Bulgarian film that deals with some pretty particular 1940's and 50's politics. As a result, I got a sense that there were dimensions and nuances to the story that were floating over my head. I wonder what Bulgarians made of this story.

[You can check out the visual dazzle (and the principle reason I added this film to the line-up) of the trailer here.]

***

The Brothers Bloom ~ Showing the same visual wow and smart-kid plotting as Brick, Rian Johnson improves on his sophomore effort by adding two new colours to the mix: light comedy and sugary sweetness. Brothers Bloom, as if it weren't obvious, is the story of two brothers, and some of the best scenes come early as we see the gentle interplay between them. There's affection and protection happening between them (particularly for older brother Ruffalo who seems to set up his con largely to let young brother Brody play out his unspoken desires). And in that first half, everything is firing perfectly. For a spell, Brothers Bloom feels like one of the most effortless and endearing movie-movies in a long time as Johnson uses all his virtuoso tricks to set up the characters, backstories and con-game in short visual strokes.

But in the second half, the storm clouds roll in. Once the con is in play, the film sags under the weight of it, losing focus (and lightness) in the very parts where the pieces should be coming together. The performances are still very good (Brody and Weiss seem to have the most fun) but the playful qualities and visual inventiveness all but disappear. In short, Bloom settles down to be just another movie (something it is NOT in the first half).

Still, the film is by no means a complete disappointment, even if the final package doesn't hang together as completely as Brick. Johnson is still clearly a blossoming master with a voice and personality that it unique among scores of other new directors. I'll just as eagerly be lining up to see his next genius project.

***

The Burrowers ~ Described as a Western Horror in the TIFF program (a sort of Searchers-meets-The Descent experiment), The Burrowers was pretty much nothing more and nothing less than promised. The short version is that a hunting party on the trail of some kidnapped settlers uncovers a group of subterranean creatures (whom they initially mistake for natives). Director J.T. Petty takes his sweet time finally introducing the creatures (which is tough for a midnight sit) but ultimately delivers a goodly amount of eaten-alive horror.

Still, as you might guess from the mash-up premise, apart from mix genre trappings, there is hardly a new element to be found in this film. And when your film makes Tremors feel a bit like a trailblazer, there might be a problem. Worse, after hanging the audience on expectation for most of the first half of the film, the second half (and particularly the ending) doesn't really deliver a climax satisfying enough for the clever premise. Big problem for a movie that finishes screening at 2:00 am.

Monday (TIFF Day 5)

A home day. Call it rest or call it quality time with the kids, because it's both. No movies today.

I'm back at it tomorrow with a 5-pack that will begin to wander into the Midnight Madness line-up. As a result, I'll be getting home very, very late in the nights to come and may be slow to post for a spell.

Sunday (TIFF Day 4)

Fauborg 36 ~ In a sub-genre that I’ve just this moment created, of films about eccentric theatre groups putting on The Big Show to Save the Theatre, Fauborg 36 ranks very very well. In fact, for a spell, the movie teases with Busby Berkley madness by sticking all of the plot mechanics up front then creating a dizzy musical montage in the third act that (almost) breaks the fourth wall. The Berkley posture is broken only by the fact that Fauborg 36 doesn’t seem to have nearly enough musical numbers and instead, dresses its final act with a touch of French tragedy.

Still, the songs are good and catchy, and the melodrama is well-played. Characters are thoroughly rich and interesting, each with a very particular arc that complements the overall plot of Saving The Theatre. Add to that a thick coat of sentimentality hanging over virtually the whole film, and it’s a very delightful Festival package: a fantasy film grounded in the political and social trappings of depression-era Paris.

Here’s another movie that is in love with Paris that puts you in love with it also. Beautiful, fantasy-rich shots of the 1930’s skyline coupled with charming performances reminded me a touch of Amelie, even in the film didn’t approach that kind of whimsy. I’m also crushing a little on Nora Arnezeder.

***

Wendy and Lucy ~ A movie so small and precious that even writing this small capsule feels like it may be over-thinking it. The long version is this: a girl with no money loses her dog. And that’s it. In the Q&A that followed the screening, the director mentioned that Todd Haynes recommended Michelle Williams for the lead role after reading the script. This seems to me like unintentional comedy. After all, it’s tough to imagine how spare the script for this film must have been.

Girl walks. Girl calls dog. Girl sleeps in car. End scene.

Still, Haynes was right and Williams is amazing in every way as the girl with no options left. While she spends most of the run-time of the movie walking from parking lot to railroad tracks or negotiating what little is left of her money with a local mechanic, she nevertheless shines throughout, particularly in the second half as bad luck piles on bad luck.

If it’s not already dead obvious, this is a downer of a movie redeemed only because we are afforded a real sense that this is only one chapter in a much larger story. There are no references to the chapters that came before and lord knows, the story to follow could still have a very happy ending. As far as it goes, this is a small gem that won’t be for everyone.

(I switched this out for Ghost Town, which I didn’t need or even really want to see.)

***

Waltz With Bashir ~ At equal turns gorgeous and horrible, Waltz With Bashir works on so many levels that I don’t want to say much until I’ve had the chance to see it again. The quasi-animated universe of the film is stunning and innovative, providing a surreal backdrop to what amounts to a trip through a collective memory. The sense of what we remember and what we imagine is revelatory, as is the multi-sided history provided for the Lebanon war and massacre of the late-80’s. (Strange to think of this as what it is: a really trippy, animated documentary…)

Honestly, I can’t stress enough how visually spectacular and emotionally satisfying this film is. The final moments of the film deliver as heavy a sledgehammer to the heart as anything I’ve seen this year.

***

The Wrestler ~ Magnificent. Worthy all of the hype that will follow it when it opens in wide release.

I’m such a big Aronofsky fan. I think he is one of the most exciting directors working today but even so, I have to recognize that the magic in The Wrestler completely belongs to Mickey Rourke. I’m not sure the movie would have had half the impact without him in the title role. Rourke does all the heavy lifting here (no pun intended). He is in every way the heart and soul of the picture.

Aronofsky is so restrained that there are virtually no giveaways to clue in his involvement. There’s no trace of the visual artistry of The Fountain or the hyper-invention of Requiem for a Dream. Instead the film is a modest, dressed-down character piece about a broken-down man looking for connections with the people around him. Rourke is at turns sympathetic, pathetic and charming, exposing layers to his personality that I’ve certainly never seen from him before. (In his intro, Aronofsky described the experiencing like trying to shoot an eggshell which changes colours under different light.) There will be a lot of people asking where Rourke has been for the last 20 years; it’s a career high that feels in every way like the same post-script experienced by The Ram in the film.

I loved this film.

[Off topic – There are a number of great surprises in The Wrestler but none quite as big as the one waiting for me when the movie ended and the lights came up: that’s the irreversible image of Evan Rachel Wood and Marilyn Manson sucking face in the seats in front of me…ah, young love.]

***

Universalove ~ The token art-house experiment. I knew this one would be a roll of the dice and as a result, I’m not surprised or disappointed that the gamble didn’t pay off. Described in the festival program as a quasi-music film that spans the globe with disjointed stories of love and romance, the good news is…well, the music is pretty good. Not a traditional musical in the sense that any of the characters sing or perform, the songs that make the framework of the film are by the band Naked Lunch and simply underline the action (think any John Hughes film but 1,000 times more pretentious and artful.)

Unfortunately, like an awful lot of music films, the movie doesn’t work out so well when there isn’t a song at the centre of the action. Worse, in classic indie style the director insists on putting his characters through such agony and pain that any leftover sense of “love” or “romance” is suffocated in death, dysfunction and misery. I realize I’m a sap but I wanted something a little more charming. By the time the distraught husband character in the film decides to drive the dead and bloodied body of his wife back home instead of to the hospital (she was hit by a truck), I was ready to bale.

Saturday (TIFF Day 3)

O’Horten ~ The second great highlight of the festival. I already know that this isn’t the “best” film I’ll see at the Festival (that distinction goes to Hunger, I think) but I expect it to rank as my favorite. This is the film that I am most likely to want to watch again and again (and if there’s something in the queue that I’m going to love more, I can’t wait to see it!)

The film seems to have satisfied most people I’ve spoken to but for me it hit some very particular touch points. Movie fetishes, if you will: winter snowscapes, trains, pipe-smoking, themes of loneliness and connection, lengthy stretches of dialogue-free plot and a metric ton of oddball humour. In fact, the movie reminded me a little of some sort of time-displaced sequel to The General which featured Buster Keaton as a character who loved his train as much as his girl. Baard Owe as Odd Horton would seem to be the Keaton character 40 years later, still in love with his trains but now sadly alone. One of the gentle touches of the film is the reluctance to provide any history for the man: whether he is a life-long bachelor, a divorced senior or a widower is unclear. I suspect it’s the first one.


A description of O’Horten doesn’t really do it any justice: a Norwegian train engineer is forced into retirement. In the days that follow, he wanders without purpose through a variety of strange situations and characters. (The film delivers exactly what you can glimpse in the trailer here.) The principle delight of the film is Odd Horten himself, a man of few words who carries himself with class regardless of the situations he finds himself (even when forced to wear women’s shoes). And if there’s a theme among all of the films I’ve seen this weekend, it’s the director’s willingness to let stretches of the film play without dialogue, trusting the audience and letting the visuals tell the story. This movie is a classic example of that.

A virtually perfect cinematic experience and one of those Festival discoveries that could never happen in a multiplex.

***

Hunger ~ Shell shock. I think I might have just walked out of one of the best film of 2008. There’s still plenty of great stuff to come (I hope) but it seems unlikely to me at this moment that anything will approach the level of challenge in Hunger, which is virtually unlike anything I’ve seen before (when was the last time you could say that?). This is the debut of Steve McQueen, a British artist who doesn’t seem to worry about the trappings of traditional film making. In fact, it wasn’t until the Q&A after the film that it even occurred to me that this is a biopic.

Nevertheless, a biopic it is, chronicling the jail-time abuse and ultimate hunger strike of Irish political figure, Bobby Sands. This sounds like bleak subject matter, and it is, but McQueen’s film surprises by getting under the skin (literally) of the Bobby Sands experience and creating a film that maximizes every available tool in the cinema toolbox. Image and sound are obviously key to this, but even more surprising is how McQueen manages to taps our imaginations with touch and smell (particular in the first half).

More exciting and the principle reason that I left my brains on the floor of the Scotiabank theatre, is the bravery and invention in the film. Here’s a movie in which the first and third acts are virtually dialogue-free and when it’s time to introduce dialogue, McQueen lets a 20-minute or so discussion unfold naturally in real time from almost one camera position. One long take with two dazzling actors. The sequence is hypnotic in a way that reminded me of Cuaran’s single-shot sequences in Children of Men, even without the visual flare. Michael Fassbinder, as Bobby Sands, is a revelation.

This movie deserves a lot more thought and discussion which will most certainly come in time. In the meantime, this is a film that I expect will hit the art-houses in a big, big way in the months to come and should be at the top of most top-10 lists at the end of the year. An unbelievable atomic bomb of a movie.

[Worth mentioning: Danny Boyle was sitting behind me during this screening and could be heard to say, “Screw this punk!! Who does he think he is? I made Trainspotting for chrissakes!! Trainspotting!!!)

***

Nick & Nora’s Infinite Playlist ~ Nick & Nora didn’t work for me. I’m at a loss to explain exactly why; the individual pieces were charming enough and I’m a big fan of both Michael Cera and Kat Dennings. Nevertheless, the pieces didn’t stick together and I just couldn’t fall in with what was happening.

Crap, maybe I’m just getting old. (Hey you kids! Get off my lawn!!)

***

Vinyan ~ Never have I seen an audience take so long to begin their weak applause at the end of a film. Or seen a group of people move so quickly to get out of the theatre before a Q&A.

The next time someone tells you that there’s nothing more precious than the sound of children laughing, introduce them to a copy of Vinyan. I braced myself for this one. I sort of expected the worst kind of ride. The subject matter surrounds the search for a lost child, swept up by the 2006 tsunami but believed by his mother to be alive. Not fun stuff for a parent to watch but it turns out that I even underestimated the horror. The journey into the jungle that the parents undergo would send Klaus Kinski running in terror. Heart of Darkness, indeed.

What’s remarkable about the film, and I would be reluctant to recommend it to anyone but the hard-core, is that unlike most thrillers, this one starts at the bottom and digs through the basement floor. The story begins 6 months after the child has already been lost and the parents are already ragged with grief. The opening scenes, tracking a tour guide willing to navigate, are already tough to sit through before the movie even begins to ratchet up the anxiety. When it does, the downward spiral is so extreme and so terrible that the final scenes of the movie seem altogether dislodged from reality. Nightmare reality. This would be an easy film to market as an out-and-out horror film, but I don’t think it’s horror in a traditional sense.

The movie unfolds like a punch in the face. Leaving the theatre, I overheard a group of people actually remarking that they covered their ears and eyes for stretches. After all, the film is shot as though with a found camera, ugly and muddy throughout, following characters so greasy that it’s a wonder their clothes don’t slide off. The aural assault is even more extreme. The director forgoes traditional soundtrack music for what must be hard feedback; the electronic pops and screams would make Aphex Twin uncomfortable. This screeching soundtrack pops up throughout the film and just contributes to the torture, and at moments the film feels a bit like a death-metal album, overwhelming the brain with information and distress.

And that’s that.

Now who, after reading this, wouldn’t be excited to watch the film? Like I said – recommended for the hard-core only.

***

The Sky Crawlers ~ I go into most anime expecting the same sort of experience: visual spectacle with empty (or impenetrable) plotting. The Sky Crawlers is no exception. Populated with a handful of dazzling aerial battles, groovy CG tech and some genuinely masterful character animation, the film unfortunately hangs on a story that is half-explained, illogical and uninspired. My best approximation of the film is this: an ongoing war is engaged over Europe between companies contracted to fight (for what I’m not sure). The pilots in the war are eternally youthful (which is tough to distinguish in anime-style) and cannot be killed unless in combat. The leap from real-world logic is never really fleshed out apart from a nod to some genetic engineering and as a result, it’s tough to identify the rules of what’s happening here. Worse still, all of the mechanics of the story depend on buying into the tedious existence and emptiness of the characters which is frankly half-baked.

Not really recommended unless you love brief but spectacular CG-infused dog-fights. And if you like those, you’d be better off sticking with Battlestar Galactica.

Friday (TIFF Day 2)

Appaloosa ~ Westerns are a very tough genre to play in, particularly in 2008. The bar has been set unreasonably high by near-perfect films like Unforgiven, and it’s a challenge to watch a new western without thinking of the classics. Ten minutes into Appaloosa, which is perfectly fine, I had to remind myself of the fact: those other movies are extraordinary examples of the genre (and cinema in general) but they are not the norm. It’s unfortunate that they force a movie like Appaloosa to feel a little underwhelming. Don’t blame Ed Harris for that. Better to blame Clint Eastwood.

Despite the uphill climb imposed on it, the movie IS very good. I could list about 10 high points and only one real misstep: the unfortunate and unhappy casting of Renee Zellweger. The character is an interesting variation on the western female and has some unexpected development, even when she intrudes a little more on the narrative than I’d like. However, I can’t imagine why anyone thought Zellweger was the right fit for the role.

The most interesting dimension of Appaloosa for me is that for most of its run-time, I didn’t really know where it was headed. For a film that plays so easily in the trappings of the western genre, the film follows no easy formula. The black-hat-white-hat showdown is set up in the early scenes, but ultimately doesn’t seem to be what the movie is really about. Instead, it’s sort of a buddy film between two cowboys: more Rio Bravo than High Noon and definitely more Ford than Leone. The plot takes a few unexpected turns (unexpected for how quickly they happen) and the final 30 minutes is a sort of detour off the main trail.

Performances (Zellweger aside) are uniformly excellent with the high-point being the easy camaraderie between Ed Harris and Viggo Mortensen. There’s also some really great beards (Viggo!), craggy faces (Harris!) and grizzle (Lance!)

A great little western that probably won’t be a favourite of anyone 10 years from now, but which is plenty good today. I love that Hollywood can still produce westerns like this.

***

It Might Get Loud ~ Rock on! The first real highlight of the film festival!

Ironically, this wasn’t even a movie that I planned to see, but one I picked up when I found out that I’d be in town for Appaloosa. The movie gods were definitely smiling on me.

I’m not much of a fan of Davis Guggenheim’s Inconvenient Truth which I think is a compelling presentation but a weak documentary (isn’t it mostly a point-and-shoot film relative to Gore’s Powerpoint presentation?) I’ve also never seen any of Guggenheim’s other stuff (which appears to be mostly TV) so colour me surprised: It Might Get Loud demonstrates that Guggenheim has tremendous instincts for exploring his subjects and a real knack for pulling interesting information from his interviews.

I should backtrack. It Might Get Loud is ostensibly a doc about the electric guitar but by focusing on three Rock Icons (Jimmy Page, The Edge and Jack White), it actually seems to me to be more about the drive behind making music. Truth is that I can’t think of another film which so elegantly and completely gets under the skin of what it means to live for making music. Each guitarist has a different perspective on their craft but their stories complement one another. Collectively, these pieces form a juggernaut. This is crucial viewing for anyone interested in music.

Jimmy Page is the gentleman guitarist of the film, elegant and soft-spoken but prone to some amazing insights. He dazzles every minute he touches his guitar but it might be one of the quietest highlights of the film to watch his sly smile as he listens to Rumblin' on an old record player and silently fingers the guitar licks to himself.

The Edge is the zen-like engineer with an eye to catching or recreating the perfect sound (which he describes as the sounds "he hears in his head"). It's great fun to watch him play a strong riff on the guitar and then strip away all the effects and pedals to learn that it's a basic two-note rhythm (hardly a hook at all). Guggenheim also follows him on a tour of the middle school where U2 first came together, visiting the specific spots where the band rehearsed and played.

But the clown of the movie is Jack White. Every minute Jack White is on-screen is amazing entertainment. From the moment he first appears en-route to meet The Edge and Page and confesses to the camera that he intends "to trick them and learn their tricks", it's clear that he's the x-factor in the group. Guggenheim dresses up White's section of the film with a clever conceit: a Little Jack (age 9) who serves as a virtual mini-me for the older White to teach guitar and blues habits through the film. The greatest highlight here is watching Jack White listen to his favourite song of all time, a soulful blues number. When the song finishes, he looks as though he may be returning to his body for the first time after a short vacation. (He gets the same look later in the film, listening to Page play live for the first time. All three play their instruments like it's the easiest thing in the world.)

It goes without saying that the film is overflowing with amazing music, both recognizable and brand-new. But what's not obvious is that there are moments when a familiar hook played in an unfamiliar way can open the film right up.

Overall, the film was a marvel but the screening was a blast. This being the world premiere of the film, the audience was more akin to a rock show than a movie. The crowd was plugged into every minute of the documentary cheering and applauding each time they recognized a hook or when someone played a song they liked. But even more surreal was watching The Edge, Jimmy Page and Jack White take seats in front of me (The Edge sat next to Jimmy Page and whispered throughout; What does a guy like The Edge say to a guy like Jimmy Page??)

Cool beans would seem to be an understatement.

Thursday (TIFF Day 1)

Just one film on Opening Night.

Passchendaele ~ Oh dear…

I make it a point of not writing about movies that I’ll be working with unless I have something generally positive to say about them. So read whatever you’d like into the fact that I won’t write much about this film which opened the festival last night.

#33

The 33rd Toronto Film Festival started last night. But for me, it really starts today.

This is the one I've worked, whined and nagged towards for the last 4+ years, finally convincing T. to let me "do it up right". The initial plan was always to go full-time, making the most of 10 days and whatever 50+ films I could squeeze and schedule into that period. In time and with the pressure of two kids, I've compromised to what amounts to a half-time slate: 30 or so movies over 5 or 6 days. In truth, it's feeling like it will turn out to be 35 films (including 2 regular admissions) spread across this weekend and most of the second half of the week. (There's symmetry to that number: 35 movies as a gift in my 35th year.)

At any rate, it seems an awful shame to go hard in the theatre for the next 7 or 8 days and not keep some record of progress. After all, the biggest question people have about crunching 35 movies in such a short period is "how do you keep them straight?" I'm actually hoping everything *does* bleed together, but in the meantime I'm going to keep notes on what works, what lights me up and what gives me the brief opportunity to nap. The impressions will be sort of half-cooked; I intend to mostly jot down ideas between films, before the next film eclipses the one that came before. Catching up on 35 movies at the end of the week isn't really an option.

The line up, which is 95% firm, is as follows:

Thurs (9/4)
Passchendaele

Fri (9/5)
Appaloosa
It Might Get Loud

Sat (9/6)
The Sky Crawlers

O'Horten
Vinyan
Nick & Nora's Infinite Playlist
Hunger

Sun (9/7)
Faubourg 36
Ghost Town
Waltz with Bashir
The Wrestler
Universalove

Tues (9/9)
Not Quite Hollywood
Pontypool
Zift
The Brothers Bloom
The Burrowers

Wed (9/10)

The Hurt Locker

Vicky Christina Barcelona (*)
One Week
Short Cuts - Programme 4
Blind Loves
Martyrs

Thurs (9/11)

Sauna
Synecdoche, New York
Toronto Stories
Unmistaken Child
Is There Anybody There?

Fri (9/12)

Adam Resurrected
I've Loved You So Long (Il y a longtemps que je t'aime)
Good
$9.99
Elegy (*)
The Dungeon Masters

Missing in action, and titles which I desperately hope to pick up in the days to come (as late-breaking tickets become available) are Wendy and Lucy and more importantly, Slumdog Millionaire which sounds like it might be the winner this year.

January and February Wrap

Talk about a change of pace.

After a staggering 2007, which saw some monstrous personal highs in regards to wall-to-wall movie-going, January saw me hitting some deep deep water. The 2007 pace (about 8 movies per week) shifted steeply down to a little more than 3 movies a week in the New Year. And no surprise - priorities...shifted. I determined in late December that 2008 was going to be the year for reading (remember that?) and frankly, the start of the year is always a little fallow at the movie theare. So the fact that I finished two books in January and watched only 15 movies isn't out of whack with what was planned or expected. Nevertheless, looking back at the first two months of the year, I'm amused by how little I watched and posted.

This then is the wrap-up for Jan and Feb, or a few words about the movies that didn't get properly posted in the last 9 weeks:


In Bruges (2008) ~ Without question, the first best film of 2008. In Bruges is jammed full of Christmas presents for people that love movies: first among them, Martin McDonogh's sharp dialogue, which feels jagged and fresh, while never seeming strained or showy. In fact, it's no surprise to read that McDonogh has a background in theatre as his very particular language emphasizes character quibbles over action and continuously gets hung up in the most excellent eddies of conversation. The dialogue here should offend lots of people (who among you isn't ready to laugh at a racist dwarf?), but for a black-hearted comedy such as this, the tone is perfect in every scene. At the center and rewarded with the most treacherous lines is Colin Farrell whose performance is, as far as I've seen, career-best. This is a Colin Farrell that I'd watch again and again: funny and dark, layered and endearingly devilish. So much good stuff to be found here. Truly recommended.

The Brave One (2007) ~ Kind of terrible. In an effort to demonstrate her anguish and conflict in becoming a vigilante, Jodie Foster instead gives the most retched and unsympathetic lead performance that I can remember. The film is equally ugly, shot as it is through mossy and muddy filters with the sort of cinematic subtlety you'd expect from a first-year film student (glaring example #1: was it necessary to "tilt" the camera on its axis everytime Foster felt distress; isn't this the most head-slamming (and obvious) way to communicate this sort of anxiety?) A clumsy script overstuffed with awkward coincidences (maybe New York is smaller than I imagined?) and the worst sin for a sleezy revenge thriller: the movie is unbearably boring. Ugh.

The Savages (2007) ~ So it appears that I must have walked into the wrong movie. Expecting a sharply observed, well-paced, character-driven comedy (see also: Wonder Boys, Sideways), I found myself instead watching a slow-moving character drama about committing a sick father to an old folks home. No problem, I'm sure, if that's what you're wanting (plenty of critics seem to love this film) but Fox Searchlight did a fairly bang-up job of convincing me I was seeing something entirely different. So it is that I left the theatre disappointed that the movie wasn't funnier and even more disappointed that it was actually a bit of a downer. I'm usually a lot more flexible than this in my movie-going, but in this instance, I was really looking forward to The Savages that I saw advertised. Which wasn't this.

Lust, Caution (2007) ~ A solid 100-minute period-romance and spy-film stretched to 2:40 with all the lush particular details and pregnant pauses you might expect to pad that extra hour. I understand that the story has a greater meaning and impact for Eastern audiences, but as a Western viewer, it felt relatively lean and kinda straightforward. The ending in particular was sort of frustrating for reasons that I won't spoil here; however performances by the leads were exceptional (and also remarkably brave). Period details of occupied Shanghai were stunning, but the whole package seemed a little dull and arthouse.


Safety Last (1923) ~ My first Harold Lloyd film and I'm both impressed and underwhelmed at the same time. Lloyd's style doesn't quite compete with the timeless class of Chaplin and Keaton, but on its own merits, it's still funny and clever. Lloyd seems to love the comedy of misdirection, and it's a tremendous compliment to his writing that there's some fresh angles to be found in the misunderstandings here even for a modern viewer (with decades of sitcoms hijinks behind him). The high-point of the film, of course, is the skyscraper climb and famous clock-face sequence which is where this casual comedy becomes compulsively watchable. Outside of that, it's a fair, if unexciting silent comedy.

Grave of the Fireflies (1988) ~ Frankly, this might be as good as animation gets. The story of two orphans in battle-torn Japan is devastating, compounded by the childlike simplicity (and adult understanding) of everything that happens: a child's story told through a child's view of the world but ultimately intended for adults to watch. The tragedy creeps up, which makes it all the more sinister, and there is tremendous sadness and loss to every frame. (Sounds like fun, I know.) The animation seems direct and simple but it's remarkable how much work has gone into the natural performances of the main characters (and their specific child-like appearances). To be honest, it's one of the rare and remarkable movies that I find tremendously painful to watch and as a result, not one that I can rewatch often. But still such a spectacular film.

Rush Hour 3 ~ Simply. Terrible. Were the first two movies this passively racist?

Bridge On the River Kwai (1957) ~ Jolly good, as thoses Brits might say. David Lean's second-choice epic surprised me in a good number of big ways. First, it was much more of an adventure film than I was honestly expecting with a second half that bristles with excitement and genuine tension. The last 15 minutes are unexpectedly suspenseful and wracked with the sort of character crisis that makes for...well, a Classic Movie. In fact, I can see all of the elements that make this a perennial AFI classic and can understand the reason that people are still actively watching it 50+ years later. Even better, as a child of the late-70's and the Lucas/Spielberg blockbusters in particular, there's a few hidden jewels: for example, is it wrong that the jungle sequenced reminded me so much of Raiders. Is it OK to enjoy the Alec Guiness performance on two levels: both as a masterful on-screen role (complete with a knock-down speech in the last act) and as an early Obi-Wan performance. I'm sorry. I am what I am.

Cloverfield (2008) ~ And the real monster here is the hype. Therein lies the problem: the movie is built on a terrific promise that can never possibly be delivered, least of all by the CG monster. I came into this film on the balls of my feet, excited about the concept and enormously open to the "ride". But ultimately that's all there is to Cloverfield. While it's already been described in countless reviews as the movie-theatre equivalent of a theme-park ride, the description couldn't be more accurate. The movie unrolls with the same depth, plot and structure as any Universal Studios backlot rollercoaster with jumps and frights timed to activate as you roll past. Which makes the cinema experience kind of empty.

Also, shaky-cam was a big, big problem for me. I'm typically pretty sturdy when it comes to handheld camera work and movies like Blair Witch and Bourne didn't cause me any problems. This movie did. So it is that at the end of the "ride", I had to wonder - I mean, seriously wonder - if my inability to simply release and enjoy Cloverfield was a sign of holy-crap!...middle-age. After all, roller-coasters are a young man's past-time and while I might not be "old" yet, it seems unavoidable that there is a generation gap within this film. I wonder what the 16-year-old Jer might have made of this film and I have to think that he would have adored it.


Definitely, Maybe (2008) ~ It might sound like faint praise, but I can't seem to come up with a better description for Definitely, Maybe than enormously "cute". In fact, "cute" in bulk-shopper-at-Costco quantities: the kid is cute, the character introductions are cute, the performances are cute and of course, the ending is endlessly cute. So if there's anything to distinguish Definitely, Maybe from a million other precious chick flicks and cute Valentines movies (and there is!), it's that the story is told in a surprisingly unique and compelling way.

The central "mystery" of the story (the identity of the Abigail Breslin's mom in the story of how her father met her mother) is actually quite a lot of fun and keeps the story moving with momentum that it otherwise might not have had. To be frank, the film does such a good job of setting up all the "women" that it's not immediately clear who the mom is going to be or how the film is going to find a satisfactory ending (face it...the ending requires at the very least that there be 2 losers.) I genuinely think that Ryan Reynolds has the leading man chops to carry this kind of movie and surrounding him with leading ladies like Rachel Weisz, Isla Fisher and Elizabeth Banks makes the whole package kind of an easy sit. For a movie not really designed for someone like me, I really enjoyed it.

Also worth celebrating: Kevin Kline's scene-stealing cameo which should now throw him into rigorous competition with Bill Murray for all crusty, white-haired and bearded supporting roles in the future. Nice!

My Best Fiend (1997) ~ The great joy of January was finally getting my hands on a copy of the Herzog/Kinski box from Anchor Bay, and this was the first disc I queued up. While Herzog's documentary on his leading man might seem the perfect post-script for a Herzog/Kinski marathon, it also works very well as prologue. The relationship between the two men is one of the great gifts of cinema and it's a real delight to watch Kinski chewing up sets as Herzog waxs nostalgic about working with his leading monster. And there's equal parts madness and celebration to be found in this excellent documentary which kicked off a mini-run of Herzog films for me. [Random musing: I can't help but wonder what the alternative movie universe is like, where Kinski accepts Spielberg's invitation to play one of the heavies in Raiders...hmmm...]

Woyzeck (1979) ~ And after 11 Herzog films, I finally found one that didn't light me up within minutes of watching it. Dry and artful, Woyzeck feels exactly like what it is: an arthouse adaptation of a existential German theatre play. Kinski is brilliant, as good as he's every been in anything, but the film is so stiff and literate that it feels more like an exercise than an entertainment.

Still, regardless of how difficult it is to crack the shell on this film, there's still That Murder. I bristled in the final minutes of the film as the act of violence that defines the second half of the film is described as "beautiful"; it's the very definition of ironic. Regardless, there's no question that the film goes to an unusually sensational place in those final minutes and delivers a murder that is absolutely heart-stopping in its authenticity. Shot at a crazy-slow speed so that every blow seems to last an eternity (flies can be seen skirting in and out of the shot), the terrible sequence and the inhuman transformation of Kinski's face are what ultimately make Woyzeck a movie worth its place in the Herzog pantheon. It's really tough to recommend a movie based on a sequence of unbearable brutality, but there it is: Kinski's acting in this sequence makes him a bigger monster than most genuine horror movie icons. Forget Jason and Freddy: the transformation in Kinski's eyes as he goes from victim to victimizer is the thing of real nightmares.

Also, as a big bonus, after finally watching Woyzeck unfold, I now have a new way to appreciate the already immensely appreciable Blood Money record by Tom Waits. Written for a stage play of Woyzeck, Waits songs are fascinating but somewhat cryptic for someone not familiar with the play. No more.

Martian Child (2007) ~ As the movie started, I turned to T. and told her to expect we'd be throwing around the word "cute" before the movie was over. This, given the DVD cover, synopsis and what little I'd heard about this mostly forgotten Cusack film. Still, John Cusack is John Cusack and if you're a fan, you're a fan. And I'm a fan. I haven't seen a John Cusack movie yet that I haven't at least marginally enjoyed (I skipped the unholy trio of American Sweethearts, Must Love Dogs and Serendipity but quite liked Ice Harvest). So this seemed like a harmless enough Saturday night.

The thing about the movie is that it mostly works and works well when it does. The relationship between Cusack and the boy he adopts in the film is genuine and convincing, heartbreaking at just the right turns. There's a sincerity (Cusack in particular) to everything that passes between them that won me over and had me rooting for them to overcome their problems. When played smart and subtle in that opening hour, the film is quite good. Bobby Coleman is also a remarkable catch for the filmmakers, handling a complex child role with surprising maturity and without pulling out any Cute Kid ammunition. I suspect that if this film had a larger profile, a lot of praise would have been rained on this young actor.

The problem then lies in the last 30 minutes of the film when the decidedly low-key and sweet character story invites its Hollywood friends to come over and play. There's a book launch sequence near the end of the film that is groaningly awful as the writers open the toolbox and start hitting everyone in the theatre on the head with big heavy plot-hammers. Beyond that, the drama overreaches its climax by creating "peril" that feels as tagged-on and out of place as Annie pursued and trapped on the drawbridge. Those final minutes almost entirely erase the good will of everything in the first half.

Persepolis (2007) ~ Endlessly charming and really just easy to watch, Persopolis surprised me by ringing far more emotion out of its simple animation style than I might have expected. The clean black and white aesthetics of the film create a bit of a barrier in the opening minutes of the movie, but once the story begins to roll, it's virtually impossible not to appreciate the imaginatic designs and storytelling. For her part, Marji is a great lead, a rich character and an excellent gateway into the Iranian politics of the early 1980's. Tremendously enjoyable even if it isn't quite as great as the year-end hype might have suggested.

Re-Animator (1985) ~ Sweet delicious 80's gore. Here's a minor cult classic that was brand-new to me and feels very much like a movie that would have been a permanent fixture in my basement VHS collection back in the day. The horror walks a fine line between cheeky and trashy, but Jeffrey Combs is a great center to the movie as the creepy but ultimately principled doctor. There's no real scares to be found here, but like its low budget cousin (Evil Dead II), Re-Animator is simply a really great time. The Anchor Bay DVD is spectacular to watch, with gorgeous detail and colours that pop off the screen: an experience I'm certain I wouldn't have had on VHS 10 or 15 years ago.

In the Shadow of the Moon (2007) ~ I was genuinely surprised at how much I was blown over by this doc. The space program is hardly new subject matter for anyone (least of all producer Ron Howard), however I don't think I've ever seen it told quite like this. As a collection of first-person interviews with the veterans of the Apollo missions, this is an invaluable document, but more decidely, it's also a wonderful collection of first-hand stories and recollections of the trip to space and the moon by the only people on the planet who have ever had the experience. Just imagine that for a moment. And in that context, there's no limit to the amount of authentic "wonder" in this film: every story and every scrap of archived NASA footage is awesome and drives home the monstrous feat of the Apollo missions. Like most people, the achievements of the space program in 1969 are somewhat yesterday and been-there done-that, but hearing the details from the people at the center of history creates a new experience that comes as close as it must have been to experience the first trip to the moon. Surprisingly emotional also.

Things We Lost in the Fire (2007) ~ Here I was expecting a film that would rest entirely on Benicio Del Toro's shoulders. I've never been much of a Halle Berry fan so the expectation was that a marvelous Del Toro performance would balance the Berry black-hole-of-talent and create a sort of neutral proposition. However, as the film progressed, I found that my stand-offish attitude was more and more weakened until I was enjoying Berry's role almost - ALMOST - as much as Del Toro. But I'm getting ahead of myself because Del Toro's performance is quite easily one of my favourite of 2007 - drastically overlooked (almost as overlooked as the film itself). Benicio Del Toro did something remarkable in his performance of a man kicking a drug problem by converting me into a life-time fan. Seriously. He's now at the top of The List, someone I'll be ready to watch and enjoy even in the most trashy projects. As for the rest of the movie, Things We Lost in the Fire is an underrated drama that should have gotten far more print and conversation when it came out: it's terribly sad in stretches and surprisingly genuine throughout. In fact, the unconditional friendship at the heart of the film between Del Toro and David Duchovny is done so well that I was 100% on-board for everything that followed - a good sign as the relationship is the heart and soul of the film. Equally natural was the family dynamic between Berry and Duchovny and in particular, the children (excellent and mature performances here). A great late discovery and movie that deserves more attention if only for Del Toro's gob-smacking performance.

Dan in Real Life (2007) ~ The very definition of a bad airplane movie. Cobbled together with all of the invention of a tired sit-com, I actually couldn't believe the set-up for the film was this contrived and obvious. Steve Carrell, normally funny without even breaking a sweat, feels like he's forcing things as he struggles to play another variation on the ruffled loser-dad. Once the clumsy plot mechanics were in motion and the sad-sack plot was fully engaged, I found myself tuning out. By the time the character "misunderstandings" and "hijinks' began to roll at full-speed, I simply couldn't handle it anymore. I regret that I couldn't finish the movie. Did I mention I was on an airplane?

Spies Like Us (19850 ~ Oh boy, how much do I miss the Chevy Chase of the early 1980's? And Spies Like Us, along with ¡Three Amigos!, is a minor classic of the sort of loose and easy SNL-inspired comedies that were a staple of adolescence. I'm not sure how much there is to enjoy here now that isn't necessarily soaked in nostalgia, but it doesn't matter one bit. This is still a fantastic film. Also notable as the only on-screen role of Joel Coen (he of the Coen Brothers); along with appearances by Sam Raimi, Ray Harryhausen and Terry Gilliam. Great stuff jammed with iconic Chevy Chase/Dan Aykroyd memories.

Zapped! (1982) ~ Speaking of nostalgia, any day with an early 80's sex-comedy starring Scott Baio and Willie Aames is an OK day by me. I can't believe how much of this movie came back to me as I watched it...how many times I must have watched it as a kid??

Sunshine (2007) ~ For a film that hangs so much of its impact on visual spectacle, it's unfortunate that I didn't get to see this under the most ideal circumstances. Upconverted from a hotel pay-per-view broadcast to an HD screen in the wrong format (ugh), I think most of the effects and eye candy were lost on me as I struggled to simply make out actors from the distorted features and flattened heads. Even still, there was plenty to enjoy in Sunshine as it's always a pleasure to find a sci-fi film that is precisely that: all about the science and aw-gee technical designs (see also: 2001, though this is hardly that transcendent). For the first half, when the science and "the mission" are at the center of the film, the movie is frightfully good; however Sunshine strays a little from this winning formula in the final act when horror/thriller elements begin to creep up. Outside of this unfortunate distraction, the spine of the film is surprisingly strong and peppered with good performances throughout. I'm sure I'd be hailing the film a lot more if I could have been able to marvel at Boyle's slow-moving spaceships and imaginative compositions. I'll be checking this out on a clean DVD one day soon to remedy the problem...