John Street Ambience

The landscape of TIFF has shrunk to probably its smallest footprint since its origin in Bloor-Yorkville in the 70's. For 2022, the only theatre not in the King and John Street neighbourhood is Cinesphere and it is only being used for a handful of screenings. The Lightbox and the Scotiabank theatre at John and Richmond have been my home for the first few days, although I will end up in the Princess of Wales and Royal Alex before the festival finishes next weekend. 

Over the first weekend, I spent a fair bit of time outside around John and Adelaide. King Street was closed to car traffic through yesterday (Sunday) and there was a lot of foot traffic on King, which made moving off that street a slightly quieter and more pleasant experience. 

There's a new condo on the south-east corner of that intersection and a public art installation provides a series of cubes of various heights that work reasonably well as seating. I hung out there a couple of times, watching people go by. On the west side of the street, a high-rise sits on a plinth with a Fox and Fiddle pub and an Italian restaurant called Figo. 

The two times I was sitting there, there was a guy who came out onto a balcony 10 or 12 storeys up from the street, leaned over the railing and cried out "Freedom!". That was it. Not sure what freedom he was celebrating or desiring, but this seemed to give him the release he was looking for. 

Yesterday afternoon, Sue and I were able to grab a bite on the patio of the pub before our last film. As we were chatting there, a long keening emerged south of us, although it was one of joy, not sorrow. The crying went on for some time and was quite constant, with small variations in tone and volume. 

Turns out the screening at the Princess of Wales was for the film "My Policeman" and the screaming was for one of the stars -- Harry Styles. I don't think I've ever heard a sound like that at TIFF. 

Back in the theatres

After two years of pandemic-constrained TIFFs, 2022 is seeing a rebirth of an in-theatre experience. 

In some respects, it's both a confident and tentative return. For the former, theatres are now booking to capacity and masks are recommended, if not required. Just over 200 features are scheduled this year, representing a mid-point between the 2021 edition and 2019, the last pre-COVID version. As a result, daytime screenings are starting a bit later for the most part and the number of theatres has been reduced to the immediate area around the Lightbox (the Ryerson, Elgin/WinterGarden and Jackman Hall are part of history now). 

Last night was the opening night and King Street and the immediate area was full of people on the streets. My first screening, a Danish/Icelandic film called Godland, was probably about 90%+ full. Masks were in evidence, but in the minority. 

Godland was a very good introduction to TIFF22. A period piece about a Danish priest sent to a remote area of Iceland to establish a church was technically terrific (the cinematography and incidental music were stunning and the direction by Hlynur Palmason established an unsettled, compelling atmosphere that carried through the film. The priest, played with coiled intensity by Elliot Crosset Hove, is a student of wet-plate photography and his efforts to capture this new world form part of the narrative spine of the film, carrying into the presentation of the film itself, which is show in Academy ratio with rounded corners, not unlike the photos from that era. 

I have just over 30 films on the schedule. Hoping that the films to come will be as good as last night's offering. 

It's time

As with many other events and activities in 2020, TIFF had to make some drastic changes to exist in the world of the coronavirus pandemic. 

It was apparent early on that a normal edition of the festival was neither practical or possible but the Festival office delayed decision making as long as possible. This made for a long period in the summer where little or no information was released on what shape the event would take. 

Eventually, details began to emerge and TIFF 2020 is slated to launch tomorrow evening (the dates for the festival and the use of the Lightbox as a principal venue are some of the things that survived the chaos of the year). 

What we've been presented with is a festival that is significantly smaller (61 features as opposed to the normal 300-ish) and which will be presented primarily online, although they've added outdoor theatres to the mix, three of which are drive-ins and one with some kind of physically distanced seating. 

Within the theatres, practices recommended / required by the provincial and municipal health agencies are being followed. Capacity within theatres will be limited to 50 and there will be significant space between viewers to enforce physical distancing. Face coverings will be required in all interstitial spaces, although not required once someone is seated in the theatre. 

After some consideration, we decided to focus our participation this year in the online, rather than the physical, space. This was partly a risk management decision, but another factor was whether any of the films seemed to require a "big screen" experience (as an example, we will probably go see Tenet next week at Cinesphere, given the extensive use of IMAX cameras in the production). 

We have seven films on the schedule for this year, significantly less than previous years, but proportionally, it's about the same. As in previous years, films chosen are for the most part without distribution agreements in North America (we'll wait for those that have those agreements to open somewhere down the line). 

Not sure what the online experience will be right now. A special app for Apple TV is expected in the next day or two. Based on our experience with Hot Docs, this should work just fine (assuming that the app has been sufficiently tested and is ready for prime time). 

One big difference with the Hot Docs experience is the amount of time available to view films. Hot Docs gave us two weeks or more to find a time; TIFF is limiting their window to only 24 hours. I much prefer the former arrangement. The next ten days will see one or two films on most days. 

As with previous years, I'll try to capture impressions on the films we see in this blog. Stay tuned. 

Letter to the Editor (dir: Alan Berlinger)

A beautifully constructed personal essay on the history of the last 40 years as reflected in photos that appeared in print editions of the New York Times. During that time, Berlinger diligently extracted and catalogued the photos from physical copies of the paper, many of the images showing the imperfections of the source. 

All told, there are 7,185 still images presented over the 88 minutes of the film. As each is only on screen for a few seconds, it’s over-whelming to take in, but the ordering of images is masterful, often providing motion where none exists in a single frame. 

It’s also an elegy of sorts to the print newspaper industry, as it struggles to survive in an increasingly digital world. 

As part of my on-going discovery of linkages between films, there is a photo near the end of the Gardens in the Sky park in Singapore, the same location used at the end of "The Whistlers". 

Jojo Rabbit (dir: Taika Waititi)

As I was working on my schedule for this year, I went back-and-forth several times on whether to include this in my final list. While I’m a big fan of his earlier work like “What We Do in the Shadows” or “Hunt for the Wilderpeople”, the idea of a young German boy whose imaginary friend is Adolf Hitler seemed like something that could go very wrong despite the director’s best intentions. 

In the end, I decided to take in a screening. I’d like to say my concerns were proven wrong, but that wasn’t the case. 

"Jojo Rabbit" is an absurdist coming of age tale. The art direction and pacing are very reminiscent of Wes Anderson’s "Moonrise Kingdom". He does attempt to include some darkness into this very sunny and bright world. 

When Jojo discovers that his mother has been hiding a Jewish girl in the wall of their house, he is forced to confront his enthusiasm for the Reich and its Führer. His relationship with Elsa is key to the plot, but it forces the plot into areas that don't work at all, reminiscent of the relationship between Jason Schwartzman's "Max" and Olivia Williams "Rosemary" in "Rushmore". 

For the most part, Waititi plays Hitler as a fop, although there are a couple of moments when he displays the anger that we saw Hitler display in films like "Triumph of the Will". He's actually in the movie much less than is suggested in the trailers that have been released so far. 

Although the audience response was very enthusiastic, I just didn’t find it very funny and the tonal shifts didn’t work. I think I only laughed a couple of times. Some of the performances were quite good — Waititi and Scarlett Johansson in particular, but Rebel Wilson and Steve Merchant were wasted in their roles. Archie Yates is a highlight as Jojo's best friend, Yorki, who is even more clueless than his friend. 

As I write this, it's Sunday evening. Earlier today, TIFF announced that the People's Choice award for this year has gone to "Jojo Rabbit". Usually that provides a strong boost to a film's chances when the major awards are presented later in the year. It will be interesting to see if this will be the case for this film. 

Discovering connections (Raf and It Must Be Heaven)

As I’ve mentioned in TIFFs past, occasionally linkages appear between films that only exist because of their presence in my schedule for September. I found one of those yesterday. 

I started my day with a film called “Raf” by Harry Cepka. It’s a very good first film about a relationship that emerges between two women from opposite sides of the track with two strong performances from Grace Glowicki and Jesse Stanley. Set in Vancouver, it uses the city very effectively for its setting. 

The music was done by Casey MQ and consists of a lot of techno music. In the middle of the film, Glowicki’s Raf has a dream where she is dancing in a laneway to Leonard Cohen’s “I’m Your Man”. 

Shift to the afternoon and Elia Suleiman’s “It Must Be Heaven”, shifting the setting from wet, cool BC to sunny, arid Palestine. Suleiman is a veteran filmmaker and I’ve seen several of his films at TIFF. Where Cepka brought us in close to his characters, Suleiman sets his story up in a much more distanced, deadpan manner, placing himself in the centre as a dispassionate observer of life. He shows very little emotion, evoking a very Keatonesque perspective on whatever is going on around him.

It’s very funny. Authority figures, either official or unofficial, are frequently held up to ridicule, although it’s done in a very quiet, gentle way. In “Heaven”, there are also a number of scenes where the authorities, esp uniformed authorities, move in a very choreographed manner. Life is a dance, even when the dancers are not aware of it. 

In a sequence in Central Park in New York City, a group of cops try to contain and arrest a young woman with angel wings. She is topless and has the flag of Palestine painted on her breasts. During the chase, Leonard Cohen’s “Darkness” serves as the soundtrack. 

As it turned out, the person who dropped into the seat beside me was the composer from “Raf”, which gave me an opportunity to pass on my appreciation of their film.  Another connection.

Both films are recommended. 

And the Birds Rained Down (Louise Archambault)

TIFF 2019 is still very young, but Louise Archambault’s “And the Birds Rained Down” is likely to be one of the standouts when things wrap up next weekend.

It’s a story of three old hermits living by a lake in Northern Quebec. They’ve been there for years. The film opens with the death of Ted Boychuk, a painter and local legend. Into their orbit arrives a local inn manager, his aunt and a photographer working on an art show about a catastrophic fire that occurred in the woods many years ago (the title is a reference to the birds who flew above the fire until they suffocated from lack of oxygen, their bodies plummeting to the ground).

As the film progresses, we learn about what brought the three to the lake and what the future might have in store for them.

It’s an exceptionally well-acted ensemble piece about history and mortality. Rémy Girard performs double-duty as the embittered alcoholic musician Tom (he sings a number of songs in the film). The growing relationship between (Gilbert Sicotte) and “Marie” (Andrée  Lachapelle) is handled beautifully and with great sensitivity.

The Lighthouse (dir: Robert Eggers)

Robert Eggers’ first film, “The Witch” was one of the best films and biggest surprises in my schedule for TIFF 2015. So there was a lot of anticipation for his follow-up “The Lighthouse”. It proved to be the first WTF film of this year, although I suspect not the last.

Like his earlier film, “The Lighthouse” is shot in black and white and there’s an incredible attention paid to lighting, dialogue, sound design and costume. It’s a film with a huge amount of texture on screen, right down to the jagged faces of the two leads — Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson (Both looked like they’d stepped out of a photograph from that period).  The two play lighthouse keepers sent to maintain a station on a bleak, windswept island in the Atlantic in the 1800’s. 

At the beginning, Dafoe’s character is the controller, forcing Pattinson to do the most menial and back-breaking work at the station, preventing his younger colleague from accessing the lens of the station. Over time, the lens takes on mythic proportions. 

Over the next few weeks, Pattinson is confronted by both the real (increasingly aggressive gulls) and the unreal (visions of tentacled creatures and mermaids). The two station-masters descend deeply and rapidly into madness. 

“The Witch” had a similar descent into madness, but it felt like it had a much tighter focus than its successor. There is much to admire here, but it also raised many questions about the story and Eggers’ intent. It’s worth seeing, but it feels like I need to go back to it to fully appreciate it. 

A world past the frame

There is often a news story which finds a way to burst into the screening room, diverting everyone’s attention from the world of cinema. Often it’s been tragic, like 9/11 or the funeral of Diana.

But sometimes it’s a good news story. Yesterday as we waited for the start of “My Life as a Comedian”, the soundtrack of the theatre shifted from what people had seen so far, replaced by the buzz of smartphones streaming the final moments at Flushing Meadows.

Congrats to Bianca Andreescu on her epic achievement and for making match point before our film started! (:->)

Vision of the future

I started my fall ritual with the tenth edition of the Festival of Festivals in the mid-80’s, when the focus of the festival was up in Yorkville. As TIFF has moved farther south, a number of theatres have dropped off the map, many literally. Over the years, this has included the Towne, the Uptown, the Cumberland and others.

The biggest theatre complex at TIFF is currently the Scotiabank at John and Richmond. While the theatres are decent, the facility can be a horror show and it’s a chaotic place to navigate at the best of times. A long escalator is the main approach to the theatres and a few years ago were completely out of action for the festival. I’m not a fan, either during TIFF or as a regular patron.

In line this week, I noticed a sign bolted to the side of the building and it looks like the Scotiabank is heading to the archives, although it’s not clear when.

Although I have little love for the place, it does take 14 theatres, including one IMAX screen, out of the downtown. It will be interesting to see what impact this has on future TIFFs. The only multiplex still in the core is the one at Yonge and Dundas, which TIFF used a few years ago. It’s a decent set of screens, but the access to it as problematic as the Scotiabank and it will move the action away from King Street and the Lightbox.

Something to watch in the years to come.

Cunningham (dir: Alla Kovgan)

A career retrospective of the American dancer and choreographer, Merce Cunningham, consisting of both archival footage of him and his company, remounts using currently working dancers and the writings of Cunningham, John Cage and Robert Rauschenberg. 

It’s an effective documentary, which gives a good sense of his character and views on dance. There are excerpts from dances created between 1942 and 1972. 

The film was shot in 3-D (in the introduction before the screening, Kovgan commented that she felt that 3-D and dance were natural partners). While some sequences benefit from the technology, there is a tendency for it to make the dancers seem a bit unreal, more like digital avatars than living and breathing performers. By comparison, “Pina” by Wim Wenders took a similar approach with the work of Pina Bausch but was much more successful at marrying the two. Still worth checking out though. 

The Climb (dir: Michael Angelo Covino)

Generally I’m not that interested in “bro” films but this looked like it might be something a little off the beaten track. As it turned out, it was. 

Mike and Kyle are long-time friends (the characters are played by the director/co-writer and other co-writer). The film opens on a bike ride in the south of France. On a long and challenging hill, Mike confesses to sleeping with Kyle’s fiancée. 

From that reveal, the film covers the next few years of their lives, their relationships and their growth as characters, although there is very little of that for Mike and marginally more for Kyle. 

The humour emerges from situation and often falls into the “did they really say that?” category.  The cast do a good job of selling it and there are a few scenes that are very funny (besides the bike ride at the beginning, there is a wedding scene later on that is just as good).  

This feels like something whose natural home is probably a streaming service where it would have the time to build an audience

Short Cuts Programme 1 (Various)

TIFF screens a series of short film programmes each year, featuring about half a dozen or so shorts at a time.

I haven't been to a "Short Cuts" programme in a few years and decided that this would be the year to address that. Short Cuts #1 included eight films from Canada and the rest of the world, leading off with a short called "Nimic" by the director Yorgos Lanthimos (the director of "The Favourite", "Killing of a Sacred Deer" and others). It also had star power as the lead was played by Matt Dillon.

Although it was clearly a film by him, I don't think it was the best of this program, feeling a little bit like a slight "Twilight Zone" episode.

Many of the films dealt with death and specifically how a death affects the living. Of those films, Siyou Tan's "Hello Ahma" was a lovely little film on the impact of a grandmother's passing on a young Chinese girl and how she learns to say goodbye.

The two most visually striking films were Sylvain Cruiziat's "The Raft", a piece on the collision of the European migration crisis and high art, and Brandon Cronenberg's "Please Speak Continuously and Describe Your Experiences As They Come to You" (probably the longest title of the entire festival. In both cases, though, the endings needed to be stronger to meet the promise of the set-up. I found this to be the case in particular with "The Raft". It's a powerful short, but the violence which occurs at the end and how it was applied didn't ring true with me.

Closing the programme was Sverre Fredriksen's "Human Nature", the only animated and comic film of the show. It was very short (probably only a couple of minutes), but it laid out the premise and delivered its punchlines very well.

The Whistlers (Dir: Corneliu Porumboiu)

TIFF 2019 opened on a ferry to La Gomera in the Canary Islands. A Romanian detective is entwined in a plot to free a prisoner who knows the whereabouts of 30 million euros back in Bucharest. He is there to meet the prisoner's girlfriend, Gilda, and his compatriots.

Surveillance (and the surveillance state) is a real and constant presence in the movie. To avoid detection, the gang have learned an indigenous language of the islands known as "El Siblo", a language which uses whistling to communicate. Communication (and how communication can be obscured or disguised) becomes a central theme of this noirish crime drama.

The pacing is very deliberate and I suspect that some people may find it a bit too slow and low-key. I gave myself over to the film and enjoyed it. There are also numerous references to film and film-making (a key location is an abandoned movie set in Bucharest), which added to my enjoyment.

If there's a fault in the film, it's the ending. I found it a little too "Hollywood" and smacked a little of overt product placement (beyond that, I will say no more).

Where is Everybody?

Today is the day that TIFF officially launches for the year with the release of the full schedule and program book. In the past, launch day is also the (re-)introduction to the joys of TIFF line-ups and rules of engagement for the year.

In the past, this has meant very early mornings camped out on Cumberland or at College Park, waiting for the box office to open. Over the past few years and as the organization of the festival has moved online, the need to be there at the crack of dawn has diminished, but there's still been a small charge in arriving at the box office and lining up with fellow cinephiles.

I arrived at the Lightbox just before 9:00 this morning and found the following:

Did a quick check with one of the staff to confirm that, yes, the box office was going to open at 10:00, so I had a seat and chatted with a couple of the early birds until 10:00.

There's always a change or two in the TIFF ecosystem each year, sometimes good; sometimes less so. This year they made the decision to not print a separate schedule for the festival, which put all the films on a calendar grid for easy viewing. In its place is the opportunity to download a CSV version of the schedule or to work with a third-party site called TIFFR. Not sure why they decided to dump the printed schedule, but they didn't announce this until a day or two before today. I don't think a smart thing to do from a communications perspective and I suspect that a consequence of this will be that the contingent of the TIFF audience that aren't comfortable with tech will head straight to the box office and, as a result, queues there could increase. We'll see how this plays out over the next few weeks.

With the launch of the schedule, it's time to dust off the blog and try to capture the fall of 2019 in all its splendour (or, at least, the splendour that presents itself to me).

Her Smell

As of this morning (the penultimate day of TIFF 2018), “Her Smell” has been the best film of the Platform series for me. It was also one of a number of films with strong female protagonists that found their way into my schedule.

Elizabeth Moss is a self-destructive singer fronting a three-piece rock band with serious indie creed (the closest analogue in the real world would peobably be Courtney Love and Hole, respectively). We see here at two particular periods of her life — one being a disastrous “comeback” period after her best work has been done and several years later when she has retired from the business.

A woman with demons, both internal and ingested, she is a whirlwind of problems at the nadir of her career. Moss is incendiary in this section and the director (Alex Ross Perry) puts you at the entre of this, using a dynamic camera and a punishingly effective sound design to put you there. At times, it feels like you are on the receiving end of her madness. The later section is the opposite and he does a great job of making both halves of her character “real”.

For such an all-consuming character, it would be easy for the rest of the cast to be completely overshadowed by her. To their credit, the other players in her orbit do a good job of inhabiting their roles. In particular, Eric Stoltz does some fine work as the head of the label that signed “Something She” on their way up and who might be pulled apart by the chaos on her way down.

Although not a “big screen” movie per se, it’s worth seeing it in a theatre to get the full force of a very good performance.