9-13-2004
You know, those Moviegoing Fates have a really twisted sense of humor.
Why, just yesterday, at the end of my diary entry, I joked that they
were cackling in anticipation of messing around with my fest-going... and
today, they lay the cinematic smackdown on me.
See, no one told me that Maggie Gyllenhaal was in town.
That’s right, people, MAGGIE GYLLENHAAL! *My* favorite Maggie! No, she
doesn’t have a film in the festival, but her boyfriend, Peter Sarsgaard
does! DOH!!! I even remember noting that when I first received
my program book and saw his name in the cast for Kinsey. I
remember thinking, for a brief moment, what if Maggie comes with
him?!?!?! And there she was, strolling into its premiere arm in
arm with her beloved. How do I know this? Because the two of them
popped onscreen for a brief second during some festival coverage I was
watching earlier tonight. I nearly spit my bagel across the room and
actually did (for real) say aloud, “It’s MAGGIE!”
But, you knowwwwwwwww, I didn’t know. I had no idea she was here. (Note
the use of the word “was,” not “is.” Was.) The footage I saw was from
last night, so chances are Maggie and company have since hit the road.
Now, you may be saying to yourself, “But Vickie, what does this have to
do with the Moviegoing Fates? Surely *they* aren’t responsible.”
Oh, but they are. For, you see, they constructed such elaborate
distractions that there was no way I would possibly catch wind of
my Maggie’s presence. First, they made sure that she wouldn’t
have any films screening here this year. Fine. In cahoots with the
notoriously nefarious fest organizers. Not surprising. Then, they
ensured that Linda’s Maggie (Cheung), would have a film here,
thereby sending me on a mission... to find the DECOY Maggie. So, while I
was trotting around town, super-alert with eyes peeled and camera at
the ready for Maggie-frickin’-Cheung (sorry, Linda), Maggie
Gyllenhaal was probably sitting alone in her hotel room, staring
wistfully out the window and wishing she had something or someone to
occupy her time. “If only Vickie knew I was here,” she probably thought
to herself. “She could have shown me around town or played a game of
Scrabble with me or even talked to me about that freaky-ass French
movie about those little girls in a forest. Oh well.... She probably even
had a single tear trickle down her cheek at that point.
But no. The Fates would not have it. And, just to make absolutely
certain that their sabotage worked, they even threw in the
supremely distracting possibility that Sandra Bullock (!) would
magically appear. That was genius on their part, I must say. They made
sure I had to work for a ticket to Crash, then planted that
little nanosecond glimpse of SB on the news (which they knew I’d be
watching) to pique my excitement and cloud whatever microscopic
Gyllenhaal thoughts might have been left in my head.
So, there you have it. The irony is kind of sickeningly funny. I chase
Maggie Cheung while the Maggie I really want to see drifts in and out
of town, completely unnoticed until after she’s already
(probably) left. That just adds the final sting to the whole perfectly
executed plan. Damned Fates. I poop on you!
Whatever ill will the Fates had/have for me also appeared first thing
this morning at my screening of The Machinist, the dark, weird
and creepy new thriller (?) starring a horrifically emaciated
Christian Bale as an insomniac. Seriously, his physical
transformation for this film is absolutely astounding. I have no idea
how much weight he lost, but he is literally a walking skeleton. You
can see every single one of his bones, there’s zero fat or muscle, and
his spine protrudes out of his back in a grotesque way. He is virtually
unrecognizable.
Anyway, about 10 minutes into the film, the picture jumped, then jerked
around, then stopped and the image melted away into a blinding white
light. (You know, when the film is burned through by the light of the
projector.) The lights came up and some festival volunteer (oh no)
announced that the film would be back up and running in 10 minutes.
Yeah right, I thought to myself. There’s no way this is gonna be a
10-minute fix.
And it wasn’t. The film started up again after 35 (!) minutes... a HUGE
increment of time during a festival where one is often forced to sprint
across town when movies are on time, let alone delayed by more
than half-an-hour.
Sprint is exactly what I had to do in order to get to my second
screening, the Ray Charles biopic, Ray. The movie stars Jamie
Foxx in the title role and follows Charles’ career in the 1950s and
‘60s. It also covers his various relationships with women, including
his wife (Kerry Washington), back-up singers turned mistresses
(Aunjanue Ellis, Regina King) and his mother (Sharon
Warren). It had a hefty running time of more than two hours and 30
minutes, and by the time it was over my butt was seriously sore (it
still is now!) from sitting in the uncomfortable Ryerson Theatre seats.
The Ryerson is one of the new venue additions this year and is cursed
with not only having hard seats, but with having the most useless set
of women’s restrooms. FOUR stalls! For a theater that seats 1200
people!
My last film of the day was an indie drama from the U.S. called On
the Outs. The film tracks the intersecting lives of three teenage
girls (Anny Mariano, Paola Mendoza, Judy Marte) from the same
Jersey City neighborhood as they cross paths in a juvenile detention
center. Much of the dialogue, we were informed at the post-film Q&A,
was improvised, and that added an extra visceral level of authenticity
to the onscreen drama. It was a somewhat uneven film, with Marte (last
seen in Raising Victor Vargas) turning in a much stronger and
more memorable performance (in my opinion) than her co-stars.
And that was that. I will no longer tempt the Moviegoing Fates by
mentioning their cackling, and will instead say that tomorrow promises
to be a challenge. I have an average of about 10-15 minutes of
between-film food-procurement time (excluding the theater to theater
travel time, and the standing-in-line time) between each of my four
scheduled movies. I suspect the nutritional value of whatever I consume
will suffer as a result.
I am afeared.
:-/
Roger Ebert Sightings: Roger who?
Celebrity Sightings: Can I count director Taylor Hackford, who showed
for Ray? And I guess Judy Marte counts, too, since I knew who
she was before her film tonight.
Line Buzz: Good word-of-mouth on a South Korean film called
3-Iron, as well as Turtles Can Fly, a drama from Iraq and
Iran about kids who collect land mines.
