September 12, 2003

A day after my best day of screenings at the festival, perhaps my most lame…

Four films - one dog, two mediocrities and one good directing sample. I don't feel like lingering on the bad stuff until I get home and write the full wrap-up that will appear on Monday. By then, I will have seen another eight or nine movies, be able to offer a first-eye analysis of Chloe Sevigny's most recent entry on the "Special Skills" section of her resume and have closed out the festival with the final show ever at the Uptown theater at the final Midnight show, the buzzy Undead by the Sprung Brothers.

In the meantime, the great directing sample belongs to Scott Caan, whose debut film, Dallas 362 is one of the most skillful efforts you will ever see by a first-time director. He's not one of the world's great visualists. In fact, when he tries to do something visually clever, he usually overreaches. That is not his skill. His work with his actors - again, the only failure being an overreach with an overscreechy Selma Blair and her sidekick/boyfriend, whose name I would have if he were listed in the program book.

(Note: This reminds me of something I didn't write about The Human Stain, which is that there is no mention at all of ANY of the actors in the black/young section of the movie. What struck me about that is that the section that is really supposed to be the critical element of the story is so unsaleable that it didn't even make the festival book. That is a stain on the film and this mostly stainless festival.)

Caan delivers us the first Shawn Hatosy performance that explains why he keeps getting shots in movies. It's not that he's been bad before. But never special… until here. And here, he is strong and quirky and far more interesting than he has ever been before. And Caan does more than that. He gets a simple, clean and very effective performance out of Jeff Goldblum, the way we loved him before he got more ticky than Nic Cage in Matchstick Men. Kelly Lynch is right on target in her portrayal of a too young widow who is as much her son's friend as parent. And even though not being paid a lot of money or being hired to be naked, Ms. Lynch does an honest post-coital scene that isn't titillating or terribly tit aware at all, which is how it is in real life.

Caan's screenplay is some good, some not so good. But he is not dumb. And I would be happy to see him attached to any of the movies that studios can't get John Stockwell for. Caan has an eye for the youth culture that I only see when I go to certain hangouts where Caan also goes. His is the world of beer commercials and Fiona Apple videos… but it is real. And he doesn't get stupid or showy about it. He gives it to us warts and all.

This is a movie I will stop and watch when it eventually ends up on cable. It's not a great movie. But it could be the beginning of a very strong career behind the camera.

THE CELEBRITY LEVEL of the fest seems to have dipped today, as talent did not want to remain in Toronto (or anywhere else too far from home, I'm sure) on 9/11. For my part, I dined in the same restaurant that I took a group of eight to 9/11/01 after we had enough television watching for one day. It seems like a long time ago. A quiet day was quite nice.

I gather that there has been some real interest from distributors in The Yes Men, which I hoped for yesterday. UA picked up Cigarettes & Coffee, which has gotten soft responses here at the fest, though Bingham Ray has a long relationship with Jim Jarmusch. Not so clear is IFC's reasoning in picking up The Saddest Music in the World, which has gotten god festival response, but has no chance of breaking the $250,000 mark in American theatrical release. Maybe Guy Maddin's name will draw better in Canada.

One of the surprise hits of this festival is Paramount's School of Rock, which has gotten an extremely enthusiastic response from pretty much everyone who has been willing to give the movie a shot. Richard Linklater, whose last studio outing was that disastrous Matthew McConaughey period movie, is not here to bask in the glow of his success, away in Europe shooting the sequel to Before Sunrise, which again stars Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy… both of whom have recently become single. Jack Black's $1 million per film salary was looking a bit inappropriate after a run of misses. But here, he should join the Chris Rock level of movie stardom, if not pre-death Chris Farley.

Have I mentioned that Once Upon A Time In Mexico is a big fat smelly turd that is incredibly frustrating in that it exposes a sad lack of growth on the part of Robert Rodriguez. Don't be fooled into thinking that Salma is in this movie in anything more than a cameo. She is not. And she certainly is not topless again. Neither is the underutilized Eva Mendes. And I sure hope that this is the last time I see Enrique Inglesias in a movie in my lifetime. Rodriguez is amusing and inventive in his big explosions. But they are inevitably off point, overblown and completely disconnected from any story points. And I can't take his last minute political posturing as a Mexican as anything other than insulting. Other than that, I LOVED it!!!

I did love Matchstick Men, as I've written before. It's a small movie, but a very special small movie.

And did I mention that Cabin Fever was the most overrated, overhyped mediocrity since... well... in a long time. It is not scary, not funny and not particularly well made. And on top of that, I hear they cut out some of what was passing for "good stuff" among the most willing of geekdom. Save your money. Fly to NY or LA and see Lost In Translation. Wait for Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Or Gothika. Or even Underworld. Cabin Fever will have you scratching your head... and not from a blood disease.

Okay… that's it until Monday. More then… and then back to the beginning of the fall movie season in a big way.