Confessions of a Festival Junkie

The Toronto International Film Festival began today and, I regret to say, all the good intentions of preparing for the onslaught of somewhere around 300 movies flew out the window. I did not carefully peruse the catalogue; prepare a preliminary screening schedule; or meticulously research the more obscure or arcane films from Asia, Eastern Europe, Africa, Latin America, et al.

For those that have never been in the maelstrom of a true cinematic smorgasbord it’s difficult to convey the full sense of the mayhem or stress experienced in the environs of Toronto, Cannes and in a strange sense, Sundance. It’s virtually impossible to avoid the feeling that one is going about it all wrong. Obviously with so much to choose from it’s inevitable that one will be sitting in a screening wondering whether the option not taken was an error of judgment.

The buzz about individual films is, in my experience, rarely a helpful sounding board. I’d been told just prior to a screening of Rachel Getting Married – the new film by Jonathan Demme – not to expect much and far worse. Yet this odd mix of Altman, Cassavetes and the filmmaker’s eclectic musical tastes is a harrowing, compelling saga of a family in crisis in the days leading up to what’s supposed to be a blessed event. It’s a raw saga and it has the gumption not to tie things up in a pretty bow.

Another surprise was The Brothers Bloom, writer-director Rian Johnson’s first film since his debut feature Brick. Again, while waiting on line, I was provided with a vicious dissection by a critic and could hardly expect what was to come. While the yarn of sibling con men and their rich mark has some bumpy spots and a conclusion that’s not wholly satisfying, it’s hard to imagine a picture in Toronto that’s going to be more fun and possibly a highlight of audacity. It also is a considerable step up for Johnson in terms of sheer filmmaking skill and a significant change of pace from his debut movie.

It should be noted that Toronto is a rare breed among major film festivals in the balance it takes between the demands of satisfying both the industry and its avid local audience.

Someone once noted that the Toronto audience would go to see a Lithuanian-language film at 4 a.m. and industry types have often gotten burned by the zealous reception countless movies have received at public showings. Also worth mentioning is that for the 50 weeks that surround the festival, Toronto isn’t more than a good venue for specialized movies. The event is an intrinsic part of the city’s social calendar and unlike other movie festivals such as Seattle or San Francisco, the collateral effect has been negligible.

Now, here’s the curious disconnect. The considerable response from both the industry and native audiences over the years compelled the organizers to create two festival tracks. One can spend the entirety of Toronto seeing press/industry screenings and never come in contact with a regular audience. The films are the same for both groups but there’s something a bit spooky about being cut off from the ordinary folk.

There’s a kind of tug-of-war going on between the two factions that I’ll grapple with later in the week, Toronto is a behemoth serving two masters and sometimes that strain is obvious. This year one can feel it especially in the press conference schedule. Ed Harris’s western Appaloosa is a good example. Its press session is scheduled Friday morning prior to any scheduled screenings of the movie and the list of significant filmmakers that aren’t being accorded conference time is legion and includes the likes of former Toronto favorites Barbet Schroeder and Agnes Varda.

In an odd sense one’s reminded of the film that’s a week into shooting and three weeks behind schedule. Sleep on it and gird for another daunting day.

– Leonard Klady

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