9-18-2004
When I started the diary this year, I likened the first day of the film
festival to the first day of a new school year. Well, the last
day of the film festival is like the last day at summer camp. It’s time
to pack up and go home. You came to the festival, met a whole bunch of
new friends and reconnected with old ones you only see once a year. You
laughed, you cried, you shook your fist at something (or someone)
irritating and had scads of fun that only you and your festivalmates
can truly appreciate. You’ve traded stories, swapped names and phone
numbers, taken photos and promised to meet up again next year, same
time, same place. Hopefully, all your friends will be back, but you
know some won’t. You’re tired and a little sad that it’s all over, but
grateful for the experience.
That’s how I feel tonight.
End-of-fest nostalgia aside, my final day at the 29th Toronto
International Film Festival was one marked by, well, mediocrity.
My first film of the day was the only exception – it was excellent. It
was a documentary called Z Channel: A Magnificent Obsession and
was directed by Xan Cassavetes (daughter of John). I’m not sure
what it is about California-centric docs at TIFF, but they’re always
superb. A few years back it was Dogtown and Z-boys, which I
loved. Last year it was Mayor of the Sunset Strip. So good. And
this year, it’s Z Channel. The film chronicles the rise and fall
of the revolutionary all-movie local cable channel in Los Angeles that
was on the air in the 1970s and ‘80s. It also tells the story of the
station’s founder, Jerry Harvey, whose almost obsessive love of film
was key to the success of his brainchild. The film was introduced as a
movie-lover’s movie, and was it ever. It featured dozens of interviews
with directors, producers and actors, all of whom cited the station’s
influence, and countless clips from well-known and super-obscure films
that were featured in Z’s programming. It was just over two hours long,
but it could have easily gone on for another hour and we would have all
gleefully sat in our seats to watch. It was a great start to the day
and I hoped it was an indicator of the quality of films I’d be seeing
as the fest finished up.
Not so much.
Film number two was Bluebird, a dramatic film from the
Netherlands about a 12-year-old girl (Elske Rotteveel) who’s
bullied at school. And that’s about it. It started out well, but
nothing progressed, really. She’s bullied, she’s bullied, she’s
bullied, she’s bullied and then she’s bullied some more. Nothing
extreme, mind you, but enough that I started to question why nothing
was being done about the situation. I don’t mean to spoil the film for
anyone (so if you’re hypersensitive about potential spoilers, please
skip to the next paragraph at this time) but the movie just kind of
ends on an ambiguous and mildly ambivalent note. It’s only 80 minutes
long, so surely they could have tacked on few scenes to slow down the
rapidly paced ending. As it stands, the conclusion rings false and
leaves everything unanswered. I was disappointed.
At this screening, I was also reminded that some people really bring
far too much crap with them to movies during the fest. The official
festival tote bags are quite large this year, which (in my opinion)
only encourages folks to pack everything they own and cart it from
theater to theater. I’ve seen moviegoers arrive with huge knapsacks,
purses and armloads of junk (jackets, books, coffee mugs, etc.). But
today a new benchmark was reached, for the woman seated next to me at
Bluebird pulled out one of those miner’s head lights (the ones
that you wear on your head, with the big black straps and the battery
pack at the back) and put it on. Yes, that’s right, a miner’s light. To
read the newspaper. I really had to try hard not to laugh because she
looked SO absurd. I mean, is it that important to read the paper
in the five minutes before the start of the film??? Do you
really need to wear a lamp on your head?? I should point out
that, in addition to her courageous headgear, she also had a small
buffet (I’m not kidding: one plate with tortilla wraps, the other plate
with fixins like lettuce and meat) on her lap, a stack of newspapers, a
big bag and a large bottle of water surrounding her. I felt like
handing her a book on simplifying her life, but I feared it would only
wind up as one of her bring-along items.
I went from that movie about a girl being bullied to yet another film
that involved (peripherally) sexual abuse of a child. The Dutch-British
drama Hidden Flaws follows young sister and brother Chrissy
(Priscilla Knetemann) and Tommy (Bram van den Hooven),
who flee home after an incident involving their older brother. They
wind up staying with an elderly woman (Henny Orri), who’s
dealing with her own difficult past, a glass eye and the news that the
seaside house she thought she owned will be rented out to vacationers.
It’s a curious little story that, for the most part, was quite
compelling and featured a terrific performance from Knetemann. But it,
too, had a half-assed ending that detracted from what came before and,
in my opinion, kind of cheated its characters and the story that had
developed.
Then came the final movie. The closing-night gala. The Big One.
And what an empty pile of poop it was.
It was, in a word, stinkalicious (which is not to be interpreted as a
compliment, btw). First, we had to sit through all three festival
directors stand on stage like gradeschoolers to recite a scripted (and
painfully wooden) co-speech (first I read, then you, then him, then
back to me, then him, then you again, then me, then you, then him –
argh!) about how great this year’s fest was, how wonderful and amazing
Toronto audiences are (clearly they did not read my letter!) and how
TIFF is hoping to raise some $140+ million dollars for their fancy new
Festival Center. I suppose that was their way of subtly warning us that
ticket prices will go up again next year and that we can all expect to
be solicited for donations over the course of the next 11 months and 14
days.
Jiminy Glick in Lalawood was, I suspect, selected to close the
2004 Toronto Film Festival because it was partly filmed during the 2002
Toronto Film Festival. My guess is that the programmers thought this
would be a clever, self-referential delight that would thrill the
audience because of its ties to the event we’d all just enjoyed for ten
days. Instead, what we got was an aimless, pointless, plotless
mish-mash of celebrity interviews, improvisation and the thinnest
storyline you can imagine. The movie follows Butte, Montana,
entertainment reporter Jiminy (Martin Short) to the Toronto Film
Festival, where he winds up entangled in the life of a famous actress
(Elizabeth Perkins). And that’s all, folks.
I love the Jiminy Glick character and was really looking forward to the
movie but, man, it was seriously bad. And you could tell that the
audience was disappointed. I overheard some people behind me lamenting
that it was just “too silly,” but I don’t think it was silly enough. It
wasn’t funny enough. It wasn’t smart enough. It came off like 90
minutes of extra footage from some other project.
The best part of the otherwise painful film, though, was a shot of the
then-still-standing Uptown Theatre. As soon as the trademark green
UPTOWN marquee lettering and lights appeared onscreen, the audience
cheered and clapped in appreciation of the fallen landmark. I got a
little verclempt.
Oh, and we did, however, get free samples from Starbucks and
Clodhoppers (a Canadian confection that is, I suspect, infused with
crack because of its addictive properties), so that was good. But
otherwise, the film fest ended on a decidedly lackluster note for me.
There was no promenade past all the fest venues this year, because
they’re too far apart and it was already after 9pm by the time
Jiminy let out.
TIFF 2004 went out with a whimper, not a bang.
Ah well. Award winners and final thoughts tomorrow!
Roger Ebert Sightings: Just when I thought all was lost, when I had
abandoned all hope, THERE HE WAS! Sort of. I mean, not in person or
anything. But onscreen. He was in Jiminy Glick in Lalawood for a
nanosecond, but his face was right in front of me, 20 feet high. In
light of the Ebert Drought of 2004, I’m taking that sighting and
counting it. I feel it was the universe’s way of rewarding me for my
earnest annual quest with the second-best thing to actually seeing him
live and in the flesh.
Celebrity Sightings: Martin Short and Canadian singer Jane
Siberry, whom I actually saw twice today at two different films.
Line Buzz: Quill was SAD! Apparently, the entire
audience at today’s screening was bawling! Everyone agreed the film was
excellent, but very sad. And if line buzz is any indication, then
Turtles Can Fly is a shoo-in for the best foreign film Oscar.
It’s the one film that has been mentioned to me (as being great) in
line almost every day of the festival.
