Sunday, 17 September 2000

Saturday was the last day of the Toronto International Film Festival. But I was done a little bit before that.

By the time Saturday rolled around, I needed sleep and I needed movies to see. You see, one of the few negatives about the T.I.F.F. is that the movies here have a shelf life of about 4 days max. By the time the buzz really gets going on a film, it may well be too late to see the movie. And there were a lot of movies that I really, really wanted to see by Friday and Saturday...no such luck.

What I did see was a perfect capper to the festival. It was 25 X 25, a series of twenty-five 3-5 minute shorts, shot on digital video by filmmakers who were participating in the festival. The range of films was pretty wide, from the personal to the political to the semi-fictional. But somehow, each film connected in a unique way.

The first of the films was from a first-time Canadian director named Andrea Dorfman, who recorded herself going through the paces of getting her film ready to deliver to the festival. Lots of wispy conversation and shots of her legs and feet and ultimately, her bridesmaid dress for a wedding that she was part of right before the festival was to begin. The organizers announced that the films would be seen in the order of completion, but my guess is that there was some judgement involved. And Dorfman was a nice way to kick things off.

John L'Ecuyer played around with the double entendre of the word "pu**y" as he recorded his cat and his girlfriend and himself below the waist, sans clothing. But that was followed by a much more interesting look at a body part below the waist...Agnes Varda's feet, which were the subject of Francoise Romand's short. The film was an ongoing extemporaneous discussion taking place as Varda had her feet scraped, cleaned and painted. Varda narrates and stars in her own documentary here at the festival, The Gleaners & I, and once again, the time with her proved to be interesting and uniquely charming.

John Greyson was up next with a very funny piece with two little kids discussing their choices for the festival. Of course, they were voiced in voice over, since they were toddlers. Janis Cole also treated her subjects as silent pieces of art, though they weren't children, but rather staffers of the festival, in a tribute to the effort of the people who really make this festival go.

Semi Chellas did a film called I'd like to thank... about the dream of accepting the award for... well, for whatever your fantasy award. He seems to have combined some actors -- or non-pros who were playing roles -- with real people explaining whom they would thank, what they would say, etc, if they won something. Jean-Francois Monette took the Beef Queen to the annual Norman Jewison picnic, only to find to their horror that there was no beef being served at the picnic. There was fish. And there was chicken. But no beef. But the Beef Queen managed to charm and cajole anyway and left a trail of smitten men ready to follow her to the meat locker.

Paul Cox took his camera with him on his press tour, turning the media into shy, nervous children. "Now you know how I feel," he tells one of them. Really perfect. Cox also talks a little about his next film, a biopic on Nijinsky.

Asia Argento continued to prove that life as an exhibitionist can be sweet, though perhaps more for us than for her. Her film, entitled How 2 B Loved in Toronto, toured her hotel room as she and a female friend bathed, dressed, tattooed, etc, etc. Bernard Rose also shot in his hotel room, though he was mostly interested in shooting out the window and seeing what he could see...which wasn't much. However, he did catalogue the views from the same hotel I'm in, so we'll always have the Park Hyatt.

Jean-Marie Teno was the first filmmaker to comment on Planet Africa, a segment of this festival which turns out to be far more controversial than I every expected. The argument is that the section, originally conceived to make sure that films that were made by black filmmakers here and abroad, were made part of the festival. The argument goes that there were only a handful of "black" films in the 18 years prior to the institution of Planet Africa. But would a quiet decision to seek out these films, without categorizing them, be better? As I talked to people about the issue, I found that Canadians, who have a section called Perspectives Canada, also feel a bit ghettoized. Teno takes the issue right to the staffers. And they clearly understand that there is a difficult situation here, all the while maintaining their stances as best they can. When asked about whether a black filmmaker could get into the "Contemporary World Cinema" section, the staffer can only say that it is theoretically possible. Ouch.

Jonathan Nossiter also touched on the Planet Africa issue, though his film was called Sympathy for the Distributor, with tongue deeply in cheek. Very funny stuff. As was Robert Kennedy's entry, Glitter Jones, the saga of a festival wannabe. And Mia Trachinger got the best of writers looking for short cuts in her film about a course that teaches you how to write a screenplay in just 21 days.

And then, my notes get a little blurry. The festival handed something out before the show, listing the filmmakers, but not listing what their films were or what they were about. Believe me, it is out of no disrespect that I am not sure which film these filmmakers made. Bad handwriting in the dark, trying to make keyword notes and watch shorts...a mess.

So, my apologies to deco dawson (of the uncappable name), Charles Officer, Glenn Standring, Mahamet-Saleh Haroun, Munga Tunda Djo and Clement Virgo, whom I believe once again hit on the Planet Africa issue.

The notes I can make out, include Carlos Siguion-Reyna's Festival Shuffle, which was shown to the backing track of "Do The Hustle." Very funny. Paul Carriere's film was about his film being two frames out of sync right as the festival was about to begin.

And finally, the most fun of the films, from a documentary director who rocked the fest with his film, Fighter. The director is Amir Bar-Lev and the film was Kid Protocol, which is all about sneaking into festival venues where you just don't belong. Hysterically funny and instructive too. I used his tips to sneak into a party later on, the night I saw the film. But besides being funny, Kid Protocol hit on exactly what the spirit of the festival is supposed to be. It's a big party for people who love film. Not for sales. Not for the media. Not for the ultra-rich. It's for the love of the art. And all 25 of these filmmaker were kind enough to offer up that love. A great project. They should do it very year.

After the film, I gave up on going to any more screenings. I decided I'd have a quiet night. I went to Chinatown and had a great dinner. I went to a bookstore and had a great time, looking at an buying books...what concept! And at about 10:30, I was in a Starbucks on Queen St. getting ready to come back to the Park Hyatt to write about the day and the festival in general and BOOM...the phone rings. Friends encouraging me to go to the closing night party at the Skydome. So, off I went. I snuck in, using the clever tools of Kid Protocol. Then, I talked security into allowing in Cyclops...uh, I mean James Marsden, along with the lovely Amy Strong and the spectacular co-star of the festival's best strip club improv movie, Dancing At The Blue Iguana, Charlotte Ayanna. It was funny to have Marsden recognize me...I'm sure he still has no idea who the hell I am...and for me to be able to assist in his partying efforts.

Speaking of which, the group I was with grew to 6 and headed off to the next party around 1:30 a.m. with Marsden, Strong and Ayanna in tow. And my group spent hours flirting with a bunch of 20something Canadian girls with limited clothing coverage. And now, it's 4:12 a.m. and I need to be awake at 10 a.m. so that I can go to the closing breakfast that Dusty was kind enough to invite the uninvited me to join, at his table. It's good to have friends. I am lucky indeed.

P.S.: My apologies to Jill Bilcock and the movie Before Night Falls for miswriting their names yesterday. The errors are being corrected as you read.

P.S.S.: My thanks for Morgan Fouch for all of her efforts in putting up the column in Saturdays, Sundays and even Labor Day Monday during this festival coverage...and for making the corrections when I screw up. And special thanks to Heather Feher for creating these awesome T-n-T pages, graphics and the photo galleries.

Until then...

READER OF THE DAY: From Not Entertainment Weekly: "I would think that you would have to agree that this is the worst time in the history of film. 0 interest in ANY of the films out now; obviously I am not alone; Friday's winning film made $1.6 mil. Yikes! Hollywood better watch out; people are getting tired of seeing the same old s**te..."

E ME: What would your short be about?