TORONTO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL
Diary 2: Sept. 8, 2000

I am going to get exhausted really, really quickly.

It's hovering somewhere around 3:15am, and I'm just getting back from 6 films. The day started at 7:30am, and hasn't quit since then. In the end a lot of time is just spent sitting, but it still can take its toll. I'd like to see the average marathon runner compete against me in this particular form of endurance. It's all mental in the end, in whatever way you want to take that.

This is going to sound remarkably like kissing ass, but I yet again am completely amazed by how uniformly cool, patient and understanding the staff of this fest are. Many key members are back from years past, and I've always been treated well by the organizers, even when some participants got a little pissy. The volunteers, and particularly the veteran volunteer coordinators, are really top notch, and its nice to see them back. I can see how the groups that go from fest to fest, from Telluride to Venice to Montreal to Toronto to New York, can develop quite strong friendships.

Tonight was the CityTV party, and, despite the fact that I -tried- to get Terry David Mulligan to get me a ticket, I was once again not invited to the big ta-doo. I hear it's usually not that great anyway. Today I managed to see 6 films, despite the fact that my early morning rising did not guarantee me arriving on time for the 8:30am screening of David Mammet's new flick. Not used to subways during morning rush hour, to be completely frank. I usually awake at noon.

In short, I'm braving the wilds, experimenting with my choices, and leaving the blockbusters for later.

Midnight Madness kicked off tonight, and it was great to see Colin Geddes, the groovy programmer, and the freaks and denizens of the night that I've shared many a screening with. From miscued s+m intros to Tsui Harks harkenings from a small glowing tv set (at least he sent a tape...), it was all business as usual.

Man I love this festival sometimes.



Heimkehrder Jager (Hunters in the Snow)
Directed by: Michael Kreihsl


You know you are in a film fest environment when your 89 minute screening feels really long. As well it should, it's 10 am in the morning dammit. Still, I can blame the film for a large percentage of the feeling that I wanted it to end.

Hunters in the Snow is hardly an unwatchable film, but it certainly does not live up to its premise. The film's protagonist is a Falling Down type character, with an artist inserted into the lead role. Franz spends his time in a gallery, fastidiously copying Breughel still life paintings, a form of painted art that seems even more archaic in today's video age, almost as archaic as frescoes in these days of wallpaper. There is, in his quiet actions, a sadness and uselessness

When the film is at its best, it is examining strong aesthetic issues -- the impotence of the cultured artist, for example, crippled by the overwhelming catalogue of what has proceeded, unable to create something new and fresh in a world where it's all been done before. Franz, in fact, exhibits this importance in two formal ways: first, how he spends his days copying another, unable to create in the traditional sense, and secondly, through his violent and absurd outbursts, he uses destruction as a mode of expression.

Scenes such as the high-speed low-impact tour of the museum, along with the awful view from the inside of those giant warehouse superstores, provide excellent fodder for Franz's eventual break. In the end, the reaction to the importance is itself prematurely capped. What held the potential for interesting critique and examination becomes instead an awkward love story, complete with motorcycle intimacy. The themes, like the rotted fruit hanging from the scaffolding in his studio, are overripe for picking upon. In the end, it unfortunate that in the directors own work he has let the fruits of his labours not fully ripen, or rot away all together as his efforts spoil.

Grade: C



GIRLFIGHT
Directed by: Karyn Kussama


While the performance from the lead actress was compelling, I felt that the film became just another girl-making-it-in-a-boys world movie. I was, however, probably in the minority in the room. Many seemed to be really affected by the film. I instead found the photography to be so-so, and the continuous inserts of banal catchphrases (ie., "its not the size of the dog in the fight, its the size of the fight in the dog") annoying after a while. In short, while parts were new and interesting, I can't make it a recommended view.

Grade: C


Keep the River on Your Right: A Modern Cannibal Tale
Directed by: Laurie Gwen and David Shapiro

A fun and interesting documentary about an old, gay, Jewish painter from New York who once lost himself in the mountains of Peru, having joined a tribe that happens to feast on human flesh. Tracing his visit back to his past, the filmmakers do at times seem overly pushy, to the extent that the subject expresses grave reservations. Still, in the end, he at least on camera seemed happy and the tale, while not overly cinematic with its DV and simple compositions, nonetheless makes for an enjoyable viewing.

Grade: B


Bunny
Directed by: Mia Tachinger

This one will take a while to sort out - somewhat experimental, somewhat surreal, it involves Eastern European refugees and pink bunny suits. What could have been a good 20 minute flick gets stretched to the point of boredom.

Grade: C-


Faithless
Directed by: Liv Ullman

Liv Ullman creates a long, thoughtful, pensive piece. Based on a script by her mentor Igmar Bergman, the film plays like the gentle old stories of a elderly grandfather, except this grandfather would have kids who hate him as he carves out a lonely existence in the middle of some Scandanavian rock beach. While not to everyone's taste, the technical and narrative complexity alone are to be applauded - the film looks gorgeous, and the film is both literate and witty. Not for those who hate Bergman in the first place, the film nonetheless holds together in the end.

Grade: A-


Time and Tide
Directed by: Tsui Hark

Tsui Hark does not disappoint. From dizzying camera plummets to strange slow motion or freezeframe hammer-to-the-face shots, the film is visceral and bombastic enough to keep the midnight crowds awake through it all. Blowing up, literally, many clichés that have build up thanks to compatriot John Woo's oeuvres, Hark plays with style and technique in a way that is still miles beyond all the pale Hollywood imitations (with MI:2, sadly, Woo himself has paled while basking in the Californian sun.) Enjoyable, bombastic fun that I will not need to see again for a couple years.

Grade: A-