I don't know what Dylan Farrow's experience has been... I can only imagine how deeply painful it would be to hear other women call him a figure of empowerment after he's spent most of her life shaming and discrediting her, while some of the biggest stars in the world fawn all over him and journalists refuse to ask him tough questions because there's some sort of unspoken moratorium on the topic.
Perhaps the problem is Canadian film, with its limited commercial hits, is quick to turn toward idolatry. If we can't have a Steven Spielberg we at least want our Ingmar Bergman, our Akira Kurosawa. And we're quick to hoist onto our shoulders anyone who even remotely seems like a possible candidate.
I'm caught up in the whirlwind of the world's biggest film festival, Cannes. Here, young filmmakers are realizing their dreams. My turn will come on Thursday afternoon when I present Jutra on the Croisette at Cannes. My stomach is doing flips at the thought of going onstage to introduce my film. But I'm also deeply proud.