Much to my chagrin, today was my final day at HotDocs 2010. I have to head out of town at the crack of dawn tomorrow, so I’ll be missing the festival’s final three days. It’s been a wonderful week filled with so many wonderful films, and this festival remains my favourite of them all.

Anyway, on to today’s screenings...

First up was The Canal Street Madam (6/8), a profile of Jeanette Maier, who operated a New Orleans brothel with her mother and daughter for many years before being busted by the FBI. The film examines how Maier ran her business, which catered to as many high-profile clients as average Joes, and how, in present day, she’s trying to reconcile her past while building a new (or somewhat new) future as an advocate for the rights of sex workers. Archival footage and home video punctuates current interviews with Maier and her entire family, all of whom have criminal records, as they reflect on the past – including the made-for-TV movie about their exploits – and their feelings about prostitutes being prosecuted while their johns walk away with unblemished records.

Maier is a terrific subject, gregarious and outspoken most of the time, but nicely shaded with vulnerability and the heart of a lion when it comes to her kids or her work. I suspect, much like the empathic light cast on Joan Rivers as a result her biographical doc, this film will erase certain preconceived notions about a professional madam and, certainly, about Maier herself.

I followed up one documentary about controversy with another, and headed over to 12th & Delaware (6/8), a film about the goings-on at an intersection in Pierce, Florida, where an abortion clinic sits on one corner and a pro-life office is on the other. Co-directors Rachel Grady and Heidi Ewing (Jesus Camp) train their lens on both sides of the issue, first profiling the staff at the “Pregnancy Care Center,” which offers free ultrasounds and counsel to pregnant women considering abortion in a bid to get them to proceed with their pregnancies instead. What unfolds is often surprising or downright shocking, as the pro-life advocates peddle misinformation and, in one chilling sequence, secretly track the whereabouts of the abortion doctor across the street. The staff at the abortion clinic, who describe the perils of their profession and the non-stop harassment of the pro-lifers, get equal time and the fear and disbelief in their voices as they discuss their work is palpable.

While the film is balanced in terms of viewpoints, the pro-life side repeatedly shoots itself in the foot with the behavior and mentality of its zealous members. One biker-like dude, who’s perpetually wearing sunglasses, is especially frightening, and the ignorance they pass on in the name of life preservation is astounding. It’s very difficult not to feel like the confused young women looking for answers at their door are being manipulated, misinformed and completely misled. Being advised to stay with an abusive partner because “having the baby might change him for the better” is not only ridiculous, but irresponsible. And it’s all there onscreen in this compelling film.

Last up for the day, and my experience at this year’s fest, was a moving mid-length doc called I Shot My Love (6/8), a slice-of-life look at the relationship between its director, Tomer Heymann, and his dancer boyfriend, Andreas, as they try to navigate the waters of their romance amid their cultural differences (Heymann is Israeli, Andreas is German) while living together in Tel Aviv. Adding another layer to the love story is Heymann’s spirited mother, a fixture in her son’s life and frequent subject of his perpetually running camera, who keenly probes her son about what he wants out of life, and out of his deepening partnership with the sweet and open-hearted Deutsch man.

Before the screening, I was under the mistaken impression that Heymann’s film was about the dissolution of his relationship, but it’s just the opposite. He and Andreas are still together (it’s been four years since they met), and theirs is a touching love story that unfolds like one of Andreas’ performance pieces – a quiet, nuanced dance between two people working together to create something special.

And, after the film’s Q&A, I packed up my press pass and headed home, feeling more than satisfied with my HotDoc-ing. I saw great films, and wish I could have seen more – every year there are just too many to cram into any given day, and there are a ton I just couldn’t fit in this year. (Among the ones I missed but wanted to see were When I Rise, Ito – Diary of an Urban Priest, Kings of Pastry, Gaea Girls, Dish, Waste Land, Autumn Gold and The Parking Lot Movie, to name but a few.)

HotDocs continues to impress me, year after year, and continues to be one of the most accessible festivals Toronto has to offer. Its staff and volunteers run a tight, professional ship, but are always careful to remember: this is supposed to be fun. The love they have for their work and the films they program is evident, and I’m always sad when it’s over. This year, it’s ending a little earlier than usual for me, but I look forward to doing it all again next April. Until then...

[Note: for the full scoop on the festival’s award winners, click here on Sunday afternoon!]

HotDocs 2010

Sometimes I think covering HotDocs – or, more specifically, watching a slew of documentaries all at once – would be a lot easier if I were dead inside or had a heart made of stone. But I don’t, and I get immersed in the stories onscreen, and I cry... a lot... and it gets emotionally exhausting.

Today was no exception, as I attended back-to-back screenings that wrung-out my heart (in a good way, though).

First up was A Small Act (7/8) which, like i bought a rainforest, proves undeniably that every good deed begets another and that every effort makes a difference, no matter how seemingly small. The film follows U.N. human-rights attorney Chris Mburu on two tracks: 1. as he reconnects with Hilde Back, a now-elderly Swede who, decades earlier, helped pay for Chris’ schooling through an international sponsorship program, and 2. as he attempts to pay that one small act – which eventually allowed Chris to attend university in Nairobi and, subsequently, Harvard Law (on a Fulbright scholarship) – forward by founding a scholarship in his home village in Kenya in Hilde’s honor. Simultaneously, the audience is introduced to three prospective pre-teen applicants to Chris’ new program as they share their heartbreaking stories and study for the national exam that will determine which one(s) of them, if any, get marks high enough to qualify for the scholarship.

Engaging, moving and brilliantly paced to draw out every ounce of suspense and tension – the sequence where the children await their test scores had everyone in the audience on edge – A Small Act is a wonderful documentary that reminded me a little of War/Dance in terms of its tone, though the subject matter in this film is comparatively much more uplifting and far less gruesome.

I stepped out of the Bader and into the pouring rain, then ran over to the ROM for my next screening, which also promised to tug at the heartstrings.

Monica & David (6/8) is a very lovely little movie about its titular subjects, a Florida couple with Down syndrome, who get married and attempt to navigate the world as husband and wife. Living under the watchful, supportive eye of Monica’s parents, they attend life-skills classes, learn to cook and consider finding jobs. The film does an excellent job at demonstrating how much Monica and David love each other, and how much their families love them both but - because it focuses almost entirely on the magical, positive side of the couple’s relationship - it does feel a bit like it lacks a little balance. Having said that, and it’s really just a minor criticism that’s more about my personal taste, the film is filled with many heartwarming moments and vignettes, and the wedding itself is especially moving. Yep, I totally cried.

The only real misstep, in my opinion, happened during the post-film Q&A session, when the director referenced a Toronto Down-syndrome couple (who are engaged to be married) she’d met just prior to the screening, and then invited them up on stage. I so know her intentions were good, and that the gesture was simply meant to show how couples like Monica and David exist everywhere, but it felt really awkward and unnecessary and a bit patronizing in a sort of “aww! aren’t they cute!” kind of way. Again, maybe that’s just me, but it stuck out in a strange way and I felt a bit like the couple had been put on the spot.

Thankfully, by the time I headed out, my eyes were dry again and so were the streets. The rain had stopped, I caught my bus on time and went home to get ready for tomorrow, my final day at HotDocs 2010.

HotDocs 2010

Sometimes, I find myself lucky enough to be present for a really magical festival experience. Something that’s so special it reminds me why I attend film festivals in the first place, and something so unique that it couldn’t really happen in any other context. And, for me, it’s usually not the big, fancy premieres or high-profile films that provide them. It’s often the tiny films, the unknowns, that cement themselves in my memory for years to come and become part of my festival history for life.

Today, I had one of those experiences.

I’ve been eating, and loving, Jelly Belly jelly beans for more than 20 years, so when I was flipping through the festival schedule and saw that HotDocs would be screening a film about their creator, it was a no-brainer. And, as I queued up for the screening of Candyman: The David Klein Story (7/8) all I was really expecting was, perhaps, a colorful film about an unsung hero of the confectionery world.

But no sooner did I take my spot in line when an exuberant, rumply guy in a rhinestoned cowboy hat began working his way from person to person, introducing himself. It was David Klein. He stopped to talk to everybody, and thanked each of us profusely for coming to the film. He talked about how much he was loving the festival, and Toronto, and invited us all down to visit him at his shop in California if we’re ever in the area. His son, Bert, who appears in the film and is one of its producers, was also on hand, taking photos and letting slip that we’d all be getting a bag of Jelly Bellies when we got into the theater. What?! Awesome!

I watched the Kleins work the entire line, and I watched as the faces of the people in the line lit up, one by one, as father and son made their way amongst the ticket holders. It was like everyone suddenly turned into delighted children, eager for candy and excited to meet the guy who made it. Certainly, that was the case for me. By the time I sat down in the theater, bag of beans in hand!, I knew this would become a festival experience I’d talk about for years to come. It’s not every day you meet someone with as genuine a generosity of spirit as David Klein.

The film itself was equally great, revealing the big heart (and big brain) of a smart, creative law-school grad who, in the 1970s, introduced the world to “gourmet jelly beans” but, who, after selling the rights to a one-time business associate in 1980, has since been excised from the candy’s history. The story has something of a “nice guys finish last in business” lesson to it, but any fears that the doc might be a downer are erased when you see that Klein is much more interested in helping other people than in the bottom line. Happy to give away his money (or time or expertise) if it means lending a hand to someone else has, perhaps, been his undoing as a would-be multi-millionaire, but has allowed him to put more than his share of good out into the world.

[Oh, and the free beans before the screening were handed out by the film’s director, Costa Botes, who insisted I take a second bag when I returned to the theater after a pre-film trip to the loo.]

My second film of the day was one that I had earmarked as a “must see” the second the screening schedule was released, and my excitement only grew as I heard pre-fest buzz that it was excellent. This Way of Life (6/8) didn’t knock me on my ass with awesomeness as much as I thought it would, but it was still a really fascinating and moving portrait of a New Zealand family living a unique life. Free-spirited parents Peter and Colleen are raising a half-dozen children (all under 10 years of age) in a rural mountain community, with the prevailing themes of their child-rearing being: goodness, fairness, and understanding the difference between right and wrong. As the family endures a number of hardships – Peter’s adversarial relationship with his stepfather at the root of most – they lose their home and much of what they own, but never their hope.

Filled with gorgeous cinematography, the film is also infused with a great deal of sweetness and tenderness... which is beautifully juxtaposed with the ruggedness of the terrain, the work and the strapping hero at its center. When Peter sits perched in a tree and thoughtfully reflects on his love for his wife and each of his children, there is immeasurable poetry in his heartfelt, tearful words and a profound reminder of the importance of family. I left feeling very warm and fuzzy.

It was a pretty good day of movie-going, overall, I’d say.

HotDocs 2010