Blog wakes up, rubs sleep from eyes

So I considered waiting until Sept 19th to nudge this blog back to life, what being a full year and all. But then the film fest starts on Sept 10th this year and I really should keep track of my movies again. At the very least.

Coming soon.

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.