If you were able to watch a new movie every two hours all day from 8 a.m. through midnight for the entire 10-day run of the festival, you would still only be able to see a little more than half of the movies the festival has to offer.
A few years ago I came up with an algorithm to help determine the number of films I could see in a season, attempting to break my 2010 record of 32 films in 10 days. Thus far, the elusive 33rd film continues to escape me. Perhaps this year?
At the Toronto Film Festival 2013 it's all about the biggies: studio blockbusters sit lined up like rockets on launching pads, positioned for awards season. Most prominent, perhaps, is Alfonso Cuaron's Gravity.
If you're not a fan of gush, you may as well stop reading now. Sunday was the world premiere of Bruce McDonald's new movie and I can only gush. How would you would feel if your wife cheated on you, just after having your baby? Ok. And what if it was with a fuzzy-lipped, wet-mouthed, sloppy-back-packed adolescent?
As a director, it would be pretty easy to find a half hour here or there to talk about the day, but, as a producer/director, running around to meetings, festival events, conferences, and more meetings, it's almost impossible.
The story of Rhymes for Young Ghouls is well-told, well-paced and nicely poised between moments of tension and tenderness. The frames are well-lit and well composed and the music -- a good portion of which is old-school Delta blues -- perfectly complements the rawness of the film's visual character.
Movies can amaze with their ability to not just take you out of yourself but to put in the middle of worlds you otherwise would never get a chance to see or experience.
This film, Denis Villeneuve's first in English, demonstrates a stirring talent on the rise. The tension, the anxiety, and even the damp cool of the late November air are delivered to us through a heap of well-chosen images, daring shot construction, and carefully-managed set design.
Now that reality is the new fiction/entertainment, I find myself doubting what's true or false. Is everyone on Facebook really that perfect? Are we raising a generation of wimps? Can homegrown videos reach nine million people organically? Is bacon a food or an industry? And for the love of God, will the real James Franco please stand up.
Toronto has gone Hollywood as it does each September, gripped by movie and movie star madness as the Toronto International Film Festival enters its se...
The Wind Rises is a biopic of Jiro Horikoshi, the brilliant designer of Mitsubishi fighter planes used extensively in the Sino-Japanese War and WWII. Yet despite legendary director Hayao Miyazaki being an avowed pacifist, the film glosses over Horikoshi's culpability in making war machines. By avoiding politics, the movie becomes undone by it.
With Enough Said, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, one of TV's funniest women ever, has finally been given a perfect film vehicle.
My novel Sex and Sunsets was optioned as a movie. The option ran out, and it was optioned again, and again. Option cheques arrived for 25 years. I gave up on it being made....
Kelly Reichardt has made her career on the fringes of the Hollywood system, making complex, austere films on tiny budgets, and building up a reputation for a singular vision. But, with Night Moves, a generic take on the moral questions associated with terrorism, Reichardt's vision feels blinkered.
Well, it's day four and two of the CINEMANOVELS public screenings are in the books. TIFF audiences are amazing. They were so enthusiastic about the film, and the questions they asked during the Q&A were smart and thoughtful.
Today my phone buzzed with the story of a film blogger calling 911 because he was bothered by someone using their cellphone during a screening. It's kind of a funny story to most, I suppose -- one that illustrates just how wrapped up people can get in this odd world. Except I didn't find it funny. At all. On any level. As a guy who spent every day of my working life for eight years trying to keep up with the volume of calls pouring in to 911 -- legitimate calls, each of which carried with it the weight of someone possibly dying -- I find Billington's action offensive.