TIFF 2007 Coverage

http://excal.on.ca/cms2//index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=3752&Itemid=2

A Chinese spy. Cowboys and drug deals. The Russian mafia. Teenage pregnancy. Lou Reed in Berlin. Bob Dylan. A man caught in a windshield. Explore asylum on LSD. Teenage prostitutes.

“Remember when we were once that young?” asked a bearded critic to his friend.

I realized early on that I would not be able to pass off as a professional “critic” during my first time at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF). I only hoped that my new shoes and faux-leather bag would help me to at least blend in with the established crowd of journalists.
I was immediately swept up by the hype surrounding the major directors presenting films at the festival. New films from the Coen brothers, David Cronenberg, Ang Lee and others were all must-sees, as evidenced by the blockbuster lines careening around every corner.


Lust, Caution

Lust, Caution, Ang Lee’s first Mandarin-language film since 2000’s landmark Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, is set in Shanghai and revolves around a Chinese spy who becomes entangled with a Japanese collaborator during the Second World War. Most of the action is displayed through the subtle development of the relationship between Wang (Tang Wei), the naïve but determined spy, and Yee (Tony Leung), the supposed traitor. The slow, methodical pace of the film may turn off viewers expecting a straight thriller, although scenes of graphic sex and one instance of shocking violence punctuate the film. The layers of the subtly masochistic relationship continue to unravel in the viewer’s head long after the film has finished.




Juno

The longest lineup I faced was for Juno, Jason Reitman’s comedy about a pregnant teen starring Canadians Ellen Page and Michael Cera. Like an indie melding of Knocked Up and Superbad, Juno revolves around expecting parents Juno MacGuff (Page) and Paulie Bleeker (Cera), who has perfected the role of awkward teenaged male. Similar to the Judd Apatow titles mentioned, many of the jokes rely heavily on pop-culture references, so do not expect this one to be a classic. However, the sweet, accessible nature of the characters made it an audience hit at the festival.




No Country for old Men

The glossy big pictures continued with No Country for Old Men, with Tommy Lee Jones providing star power. Offering one of the first films of the festival to garner almost unanimously positive reviews, Joel and Ethan Coen return to the same crime thriller styling that garnered them their first major praise with Blood Simple. Set at the Texas-Mexico border in 1980, the film centers around Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin), a cowboy who stumbles upon the aftermath of a drug deal gone wrong: several dead bodies, a truck full of drugs and $2 million in cash. Fleeing with the money, he is pursued by a mysterious assassin (Javier Bardem). Incredibly tense yet punctuated with humour and tied together with an intelligent meditation on themes of honour and aging, the film surpasses the success for they achieved with Fargo.





Eastern promises

David Cronenberg continues his distressing descent into what could possibly be considered convention with Eastern Promises. The story revolves around the Russian mafia in London, with Viggo Mortensen in the leading role and Naomi Watts playing a midwife named Anna.
While the bone-crunching brutality of A History of Violence is repeated here, Cronenberg gives in to a ham-fisted plot that includes a baby in peril. Anna’s quest to find the lost baby drives the story, but the tricky dynamics between the two families make for a more compelling viewing. You know you have entered uncharted territory when it starts to seem like David Cronenberg has become too conventional.









After screening both No Country for Old Men and Eastern Promises, press conferences were held for each film. Feeling primitive with my notebook in the midst of digital recorders and cameras, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat throughout the Eastern Promises conference, rewording my question to David Cronenberg repeatedly in my head until time ran out.
Luckily, I was able to compose myself in time to ask a pseudo-intellectual question to the Coen brothers during the No Country for Old Men conference. Inquiring about the barren landscape of the film and how it relates to similar landscapes in their other films, I was given a concise and informative answer: “Well, umm, well, the book is set there...”
Very dramatic. Another journalist received a similar answer so I resolved to not feel bad.


Stuck

It felt strange attending the press screenings for Midnight Madness films at non-threatening afternoon hours, but the strange films alone created their own mood once the reels started rolling. Stuck, a film about a man caught in a windshield, is absolutely painful, and that is a compliment. One of the most squirm-worthy movies in recent memory, Stuart Gordon stages a tale of a homeless man (Stephen Rea) who gets caught in the windshield of a car when a young woman (Mena Suvari) runs into him. The woman then leaves the car in her garage, waiting for the man to die so she can avoid legal consequences. Uncomfortable to the point of hilarity, the premise alone will warrant the film a deserved cult status.




A l’interieur

Infinitely more bloody and stark-minded, the French thriller Á l’intérieur uses the woman-in-peril setup to tense effect. Directors Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury nick the claustrophobic sadism of 2005’s High Tension but to a more logical result.
Bloodthirsty audiences will be satisfied by the tale of a pregnant widow terrorized by a mysterious stranger bent on retrieving the woman’s baby by any means necessary.




The Devil’s Chair

Almost as bloody but haphazardly twisting itself into an offensive mess, Adam Mason’s The Devil’s Chair starts off with a promising, if traditional premise: a young man and his girlfriend horse around in an abandoned mental asylum while on LSD. The girl ends up dead; the man ends up institutionalized. A psychiatrist brings the man back to the asylum for studying and shenanigans happen again. However, from there, the film turns increasingly ludicrous. Throwing nonsensical twists at the audience and soaking them in needless gore and sadism, Mason creates a wholly unsatisfying and condescending picture that cannot in good conscience be recommended to anyone seeking substance in a film beyond dismembered bodies.




Sukiyaki Western Django

Surprisingly violent Japanese director Takashi Miike had one of the least aggressive films of Midnight Madness, but also one of the best received. A simultaneous tribute to Japanese samurai films and Italian spaghetti westerns, Sukiyaki Western Django has Miike blending elements from both subgenres and not caring where the pieces fall, as long it is stylish in the right places. Sukiyaki Western Django is an honourable tribute and a ridiculously original creation.







I'm Not There

A different kind of difficult challenge permeates I’m Not There. Todd Haynes has created a brilliant and maddening biography of iconic musician Bob Dylan. In the film, Dylan is played by several actors who play him at different times of his life, as well as depict works influenced by him. Cate Blanchett is the most striking Dylan impersonator, perfectly embodying his twitchy mannerisms as Jude Quinn. Less successful are the more far-reaching branches: Heath Ledger as a Hollywood actor who portrays Jack Rollins in a film and whose music provides the backdrop to the changes faced by the actor as the film shifts into the 1970s; and Richard Gere’s pleasantly understated performance as Billy the Kid in hiding should have been saved for another movie. However, these stopgaps are forgivable for Haynes, as his sprawling vision is overstuffed with treasures for both Dylan fanatics and newcomers. Those without the acquired taste for his music may want to give this a pass, since they will not be able to revel in the celebratory nature of the film and its scenarios.




The Tracey Fragments

Bruce McDonald’s The Tracey Fragments paints a much bleaker picture than the optimistic Juno. Told almost entirely in split-screen, sometimes with as many as six or seven shots in the frame, it is the not entirely coherent story of a depressed teenager searching for her little brother whom she hypnotized into thinking that he was a dog. McDonald’s hyperactive rock-‘n’-roll aesthetic works well enough to keep the film entertaining, but it ends abruptly. The score, by Toronto rock band Broken Social Scene, helps to tie the narrative together.




Joy Division

There were several films being screened at the festival that revolved around musical artists who I greatly respect and enjoy. Joy Division is one of these bands, and they were showcased in two different films at the festival, Control and Joy Division.
Despite dying at the age of 23, the music Ian Curtis created with the band Joy Division has influenced every branch of alternative rock music. Yet, even after seeing Anton Corbijn’s Control, one does not gain any insight into how their music really came to be. Exquisitely shot but essentially vacant of any deeper revelations, Corbijn does not pose any easy answers for why Curtis supposedly committed suicide, but also unfortunately neglects to offer any interesting questions to keep the film from slipping into clichés. Sam Riley is an incredible doppelganger for singer Ian Curtis and the rest of the cast is proficiently rounded out, but they are hobbled by the weak script.
Those looking for actual insight into the band should flock to Grant Gee’s documentary instead of the popcorn simplifications of Control. Simply titled Joy Division, Gee (known for the 1998 Radiohead documentary Meeting People is Easy) gives the music the appropriate context, framing the story of the band around the cultural changes that affected their hometown of Manchester, and on how they were able to carve a distinct sound from their surroundings. Candid interviews and smooth, rhythmic editing set to the band’s timeless music (including unnerving live footage) make this a must-see for anyone interested in modern rock music.
Similarly miserable musical taste led me to Lou Reed’s Berlin. Initially maligned upon its release, Lou Reed’s tortured opus Berlin has since been hailed as a masterpiece. However, because of its initial commercial and critical failure, it had never been performed live. Director Julian Schnabel (Before Night Falls) staged the art direction for the shows and filmed the concert. There is not much context to be found in the film; it is really not much more than the filming of a proficiently-staged and impeccably-recorded show. The beautiful, but slow, plodding songs will not necessarily win over newcomers, but the film is nevertheless a celebration of difficult and challenging albums.


By the end of the week, the mood had become more solemn in the press lounge. Industry types could be seen muttering profanities to their computer screens and festival deadlines were taking the place of the celebratory nature that dominated the previous weekend. As I neared the end of the festival, the films began to seem less consequential. David Ross’ The Babysitters is a valiant attempt to sweeten a story of teenage prostitutes, but there is simply no way to make the subject matter feel any less creepy. My stint at the festival ended with director Sidney Lumet introducing William Wyler’s 1947 classic The Best Years of Our Lives. It felt like a fitting end to the festival; a classic, intimate drama introduced by an acclaimed American director (an Oscar-winner, Lumet has directed 12 Angry Men, Dog Day Afternoon and other acclaimed dramas). The film was already reviewed long ago, so I could rest easy.

When I emerged from the theatre, I was caught in the first rain pour I had encountered in my eight days in Toronto. Running to the subway, I knew I would be back again another day.