Warning: Spoilers within
Years of TIFF marathons have taught me to adapt to disappointment and other lessons beyond the essential one: popcorn isn’t a meal replacement. Inevitably, films appear in my schedule that begin with promise yet land with a thud.
Let’s start with a film already winning gushy accolades. The Danish Girl has many admirable qualities including strong performances, sumptuous cinematography and painterly production design. What it lacks is anything truly surprising. I wanted more edges coloured in: where was the social context?
The Dressmaker had me (and a packed house) howling at the campy tone and screwball humour, but how cheated did we all feel when things suddenly turn tragic? As overheard in the bathroom: “And we never even got to see Liam (Hemsworth) and Kate (Winslet) get it on?”
Truly inventive and clever, The Lobster is a rich satire about singles who are turned into animals when they can’t find suitable mates.
Yet an overly long third act torpedoes the tone and ends up dragging on and on, as did Bang Gang: A Modern Love Story, a contender in the new juried Platform series of strong authorial voices. One of many films I saw this year from female directors, Eva Husson’s directorial debut focuses on a group of French teens sharing sexual adventures in their very own swingers club. What could have been truly provocative ends up spinning into a morality tale of STD scares and Youtube shaming and ends up flattened by both.
He Named Me Malala is a portrait of the youngest-ever Nobel Prize laureate Malala Yousafzai. While I loved the scenes of family life, I wanted to hear more about where her extraordinary courage comes from, and what her family really went through when she was shot by the Taliban for her outspokenness in support of girls’ education.
Later, in a Skype Q and A, Malala confirmed what I suspected: this is a movement, not a documentary-a platform, seeped in uplighting shades.
That’s okay-I’ll go with it-she’s a hero to millions including me. #withMalala
Biggest thud for this fangirl was High Rise, the latest from cult British director Ben Wheatley. A hot mess, this film opened with a jumped-up crowd of faithfuls already hooting their approval before the film began. I nodded off eventually after losing track of all the characters in their anarchist mayhem. That’s what happens when you see five films in a day. Not advisable for even this feisty fangirl. Five film days happen only once in my version of TIFF. I’m tipped, but not certifiable.
Other pouts:
- A pushy usher scolding me for holding four seats (after standing in line for an hour) for my companions who, like me, had paid for a ticket. We have 100 people in the rush line-up waiting for seats. You can’t hold them much longer. Read the fine print on your ticket. I will NOT give these up. My friends will be here any minute. Long stare. Where is Tom Hardy’s menacing glare when you need it?
- Dropped screenings of London Fields and Amazing Grace. Not the fault of TIFF, but I wanted to see both.
- One too many full cups of coffee ditched on orders from theatre staff at select TIFF venues. One too many bad seats at Roy Thomson Hall, surely the worst place to see a movie in Toronto, yet still used by TIFF for many of their premium gala screenings.
- Watching repeat viewings of TIFF sponsor ads. Could they not come up with multiple versions of said spots?
- A no-show from Matthias Schoenaerts, despite appearing in two films at the festival, including Disorder, a thriller made by yet another female director (Alice Winocour).
I’m useless at critiquing anything properly featuring this Belgian actor.
He is endlessly interesting to watch even when he has little to play with.
Still, some disappointments are easier to bear than others. While it failed to deliver enough thrills, Disorder showcases Schnoenaerts’ ability to rise above a meagre script.
Tomorrow I kill the curmudgeon and give you my highlights in TIFF Part 3: The biggest thrills. There were lots of them. I promise: the grump has gone to bed.
If you missed TIFF Part 1, read on.
