Monday, September 25, 2006

Location Location Location

I turned 25 yesterday. Woo-fucking-hah. Ear hair and sore hips, here I come. It seems much older than 24, strangely. But 24 was a year of progress - not necessarily open doors, but more like french doors. Sure, you can see through them, but they ain't swinging wide just yet.

I have been putting off new re-writes on Chub and Marigold Moon, but it doesn't seem like I can do so any longer. Producer interested in MM has asked me to ‘think about’ (read: do it if you want me to get involved) changing the locations in the film. Currently, 2/3 of the movie takes place in an affluent suburb of Phoenix. Her suggestion: move it to Canada if I ever plan to see it on celluloid.

So while it's doesn’t change the story I want to tell…it changes the story I want to tell.

What to do? There’s a specific social, economic, and aesthetic stigma to Scottsdale, the bleached, transparent gated community I know all too well. It's not a generic setting - it's particular and deliberate. It is also impossible to cheat in this country, which ususally we're so good at. Can the same sensibility be replicated and transported north of the border? If so, where? Winnipeg? Vancouver Island? Banff?

Here’s the thing: I don’t think it can. But that doesn’t mean im not going to do it. I mean, other than it affecting a handful of secondary characters, the main plot point, and the overarching theme of the story, it’s fairly inconsequential. I joke because inside, I cry. It bothers me more than I'll ever admit, almost as much as recognizing that there's not a chance anyone in this country could ever afford to make the film as written.

So now instead of Marigold Moon: the tragic tale of a young girl’s move from Canada to the fake-boobs-and-palm-trees, it’s now Marigold Moon: the story of an east coast girl transfer to an affluent, all-white…prairie community? How about Medicine Hat? Exciting, nuanced...Medicine Hat.

Shit.

Try to contain your excitement. The painful re-positioning of a geographically specific story begins. And some cash might soften the blow. Might.

Next up on my solo slate: How to make Chub better when each note I get contradicts the next. Apparently it's loved for the same reasons it's hated. Personally, I think that's a good thing - polarization is a conversation starter - but clearly, my opinions have about as much weight as Mel's apology.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Casting, Day 1

Today we begin casting for 'Team Leader', a short series that I co-wrote.

I'm sitting here in the casting office, aka the director's apartment, waiting on a 'little person' to come audition for the role of Captain Annoy-o, the obnoxious office wart that nobody likes. The producer told me that the little auditioner is to arrive via motorized cart. THIS is why I'm waiting by the window.

And, wouldn't you know it, but the Little-Cart-That-Could has stood us up. Normally I'd be peeved at missing such a rare opportunity, but luckily I am still riding the giggle-wave from the actor who just left. He came in to read for the lead role, and impressed me with his preparedness and ad-lib comedy. Let's hope the rest of the day is as entertaining.

Note to all you aspiring actresses out there: It's a bad idea to wear a Hooter's shirt to an audition. It doesn't matter if you look like Carmen Electra or Camryn Manheim... it's a first impression you don't want to make. Even if you're auditioning for Bikini Girl 7, dress professionally.

Anyway, the major reason for this post is because I wanted to share this, something I just came across while waiting for the Little Guy to come in. And no joke - between the time I began this post and right NOW, he has arrived. And his 'little' cart? It's heavy as hell. But most importantly, his resume is impressive, so fingers crossed...

Friday, September 15, 2006

How and Why

I might be late on this one...if so, please indulge my amazement.

Watch this clip.

TIFF DAY 7 and 8

This post is from two days ago...sorry for the delay!
Day 9 and best of TIFF coming tomorrow.

TIFF DAY 7

This morning has been blocked off for meetings, so no movies. I missed nothing of interest other than Black Sheep, reviews of which have been split – love or hate, those are your choices.

Meeting 1: Major League Baseball Advanced Media
Sutton Place, 9AM

I showed up to the zoo catching my breath because I thought I’d be late, to see the animals out in full force. Apple’s (that’s the name I’m giving to the guy I met, from NYC) assistant was kind enough to call and let me know he was going to be late. Thankfully, now I had a minute to try and collect my thoughts before pitching a project that I don’t know anything about.

Well, maybe that’s not totally fair…story goes, Baseball’s first year at the festival, and they’d like to get a sense of what’s out there. So they send out a blanket email asking those with ‘sports themed’ projects to give them a call. So I did, regarding a show idea my friend Jody and I goofed around with – and nothing more. No real development whatsoever save for a decent and comical premise. And now I’m pitching it.

Apple sat down amongst the mayhem and got right to the chase. He was a very quiet talker, and I found myself continuously asking ‘pardon?’ and ‘excuse me’ and finally ‘huh’…but eventually, I had to just nod and smile with most of what he said, because a) the room was deafening and b) he was whispering.

Anyhow, long story short, I was nervous around the pitch but got the basic essence out, to a seemingly interested response. I learned a bunch about MLBAM, about what they’re looking at for the future, and what they’re looking for. He asked me to send him a treatment for the pilot of 'Franchise Player' – which isn’t a no, so I’ll take that as a positive. I know it’s a bit of a long shot, but this show could never be made in Canada and these guys have their Abercrombie boxers lined with benjamins. So I’ll flush out a series from this and see where it goes.

Final Note: Don’t let someone try to make you do business in the Sutton Place lobby during the film festival, unless you’re a seasoned pro.

Meeting 2: Decode Entertainment
King St. East, 12:30PM

V.A. has wanted to set up this meeting for some time now, so I was excited when she called me (I was stumbling through a Club Monaco fitting room cursing my lack of exercise) last week to let me know. She mentioned that there was some question on their part as to whether I was actually interested in working for their demographic, or just looking for a gig.

Valid question. And frankly, glad they asked it. Truth is, I’d love to write a show for 8-14 year olds. I think it would be an absolute blast. And while I’m not going to get into a tirade on the importance of values in children’s programming, I would get a real lift from writing a kick-ass mystery/detective/adventure show aimed at the ‘imagination’ age that teaches them to make good decisions. I’ve got young brothers, 11 and 12. It would be fantastic to work on something they could watch with their buddies.

And I think the meeting went very well. I instantly enjoyed my Meetor (if I’m the Meetee) and felt the conversation was relaxed and casual. I would say that by the end of my meeting, I knew much more about exactly what they’re looking for. So, it was valuable.

It felt good to get out from the theatre and the Varsity for the morning. But that’s where I head off to now...

Only, it’s a bit of a dull day of programming. All through the hallways, people consult their little industry guides with a disappointed eyebrow furrow as they try to decipher which film they’ve never heard of to see. We settled on the…

ZIDANE: UN PORTRAIT DU XXIEME SIECLE

I should have known. It says right there in the synopsis: “This film does not so much reveal Zidane as observe him…”. Okay, so you’re telling me I’m not going to learn anything, I’m just going to watch a soccer game…an old soccer game…and old, uninteresting soccer game…oh, I don’t even get to watch the game? I get to get right up close to an aging midfielder who’s never played with his teammates before, doesn’t score, or get kicked out? Damn.

He’d better do a bicycle kick! Something!

Someone set up 17 35mm cameras to film Zidane’s first game playing for Real Madrid. All you do is watch him saunter around, spit on the pitch, and feign injury. I walked out.

TIFF DAY 7

I had high hopes for this day. Itching for something inspired.

PENELOPE
I found it. I’ve heard many call this fairy tale a boring cliché, a 'rip-off Tim Burton', but fuck them. Personally, I loved the first 50 minutes of this film. I needed something full of Technicolor whimsy, something with the built-in ‘smile’ of Big Fish. The first sequence hooked me, right there. Director Mark Palansky and his production design team did a beautiful job. The only thing I wasn’t sold on was the prosthetic pig nose – but because Palansky chose to shoot Ricci in ECU over and over again, it was destined for scrutiny.

The wheels kind of fell off towards the end, but I don’t really care. It was fun to watch - a great way to start off the day. And James McAvoy, the actor who charmed my pants off in The Last King of Scotland, was again fantastic. I can't say enough about him. I tell you, this Scot is a wonderful young actor – his stock is rising.

Reese Witherspoon was cute in a supporting role, but let’s face it, as Ali puts it, “she’s always cute”.

I left the theatre all chipper and cheerio, and then promptly discover my friend A.J. hated it. Go figure. That’s the magic of movies.

AFTER THE WEDDING

I was told this film was one of the best of the festival, and it did not disappoint. I’m not a crier in movies, but I was damn close in this one.

This poignant Danish (in Europe, moron) film, about being faced with a horrible decision with no good outcome, was powerful and moving in a way American cinema's been lacking for some time. Think Sophie’s Choice. Shawshank. For some, Schindler’s List. For others, Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey (bogus, indeed).

Performances all around the board were believeable without being melodramatic, and Rolf Lassgård in particular showed a raw sense of humanity with his portrayal of a billionaire who’s faced with something beyond his control.

Patrons drowned the credits in applause. Deserved applause.

After such a heavy film, I decided to see a 2 ½ hr. abortion documentary to lift my spirits.

LAKE OF FIRE

Any film that takes 15 years to make shouldn’t be allowed to run over 2 hours. Otherwise, we’ll end up with more and more 4 hr. Spike Lee Opus’ in years to come. And then it’s only a matter of time before Michael Moore’s damning indictment of the American porn industry requires you bring a pillow and jammies (and Lubriderm).

Two reasons I went to this film:
1. Director Tony Kaye (American History X) was so meticulous in his research, it took him 15 years to make.

2. I feel like this is the type of subject I don’t know enough about but should. The abortion debate is very much a window into what is fragmenting the American people into volatile camps that breed like lemmings and threaten USA’s position atop the pecking order.

The film is not for a casual viewer. It’s packed full of interviews presenting both arguments, and has some very graphic moments. I had to look away, once when they showed an aborted fetus, and once while showing an actual abortion. It’s heavy stuff, hard to watch. But you definitely get a clear sense of what is driving both sides. I, for one, didn’t know that God played such a mammoth role in this whole mess. And the religious right and Islamic militants share a disturbing number of commonalities.

I feel like I need to go home and take a long, hot shower. I’m speechless.


NOTE: I tried to go see the public Short Cuts screening tonight, but the rush line didn’t deliver, so I went to Hemmingway’s with Mike and Tess to wait for those who got into the films to resurface. Man, that bar is packed with chumps! Only during the festival, maybe?

Tomorrow is the last day of the festival – where they pack all the Canadian films. Looking forward to getting back to real life, doing some more writing, eating well, etc.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

TIFF DAY 6

TIFF DAY 6

It had to happen. I half-hoped I could dodge it, but, in true TIFF fashion, I was predestined for a day of stinker films. Apparently it’s a right of passage…I think I read that somewhere. So now I'm in the club, right? Right?

9:45AM
SHEITAN

I chose this film because it had the most interesting picture in the program guide. It showed a pretty blonde on all fours, catching the squirt from a sheep’s lactating udder in her smiling mouth. How bad could it be? It’s got pretty blondes, sheep, milk, and the first line in the description reads: “Fueled by pussy, booze, drugs, and hip hop…”. All the pillars of an instant classic.

And the first 20 minutes were great – high energy, aggressively charged cinematography, lots of swearing and violence...

But in the next 40 minutes, the film derailed for me. It went from a rambunctious party film to an awkward pursuit of sex. The singular focus of the three male leads was not engaging – I wasn’t rooting for any of them to get what they want. They spend the middle of the film rooting around this chick’s rural mansion and playing with her dad’s doll collection. And that’s pretty much it. Honest.

In the last 30 minutes, it turned into a gratuitously gory horror film, where our 5 teenagers run round and round dodging the menacing Joseph (more on him later). Then, I gasped in horror as it seemed to lean on the broken crutch of ‘it was all a dream’. I almost stormed the scene in disgust. Thankfully, the filmmaker took ‘Bad Endings 101’ and decided to make the dream a dream and return to the grotesque reality we just left (following? Me neither). By the end, I was rubbing my eyes from all the gross blood, and kinda shrugging. Huh? was the question of this film. I’m not sure what it was or what it wanted to be, but the confused muddling of set pieces, violent outbursts, and sexy advances didn’t amount to much.

The beacon of light comes from excellent actor Vincent Cassel, who plays Joseph, a simple groundskeeper who just might be the devil reincarnate. He steals the film from the other actors and the director with his ability to portray the character’s cerebral struggle on screen. It was a pleasure to watch.

Again, if you have a chance to see Sheitan, turn it off after they get to the country. It’s all downhill from there.

12PM
ALL THE BOYS LOVE MANDY LANE

An attempt to scratch the gloss of contemporary teen slasher films, Mandy Lane suffered from the same genre confusion that plagued Sheitan. While there’s absolutely nothing wrong with dancing between genres, if it’s sloppy and seemingly without direction, it’s going to scream on the screen. And your audience won't.

The first scene was well done, where we learn why Mandy and Emmett are no longer friends. Then they all pile into rich-kid cars and head for an overnight at the secluded ranch – haven’t they seen the same teen horrors we have? You NEVER, EVER bring three hot girls and three cool guys to the middle of nowhere for a night of booze, drugs, and sex. Sure, you may get laid, but you won't live to brag about it.

Throw in a handsome ranch-tender (played by Anson Mount, Jim Caviezel’s long-lost younger brother) who’s handy with a shotgun, and you’ve got your obligatory red herring target. Only you know exactly who the killer’s going to be before they even leave for the ranch, so the red herring has no impact.

Then, as the teens die one by one, the writer (and first time director – surprise!) throws in a couple twists and turns showing that Mandy Lane isn’t so innocent after all – only logically, this doesn’t work. These plot ‘surprises’ are contrived, uninspired, and cliché. This worked great in the Scream films, which were satires of the genre. Mandy Lane wants to be a satire – but only when it is convenient for a line of dialogue or a one-dimensional character. Otherwise, it takes itself way too seriously for it to be dramatic. Even the ‘scary’ moments aren’t particularly scary, save for the one scene where the slasher cuts the eyes of a soon-to-be-bludgeoned, leaving him to crawl around a dark field while being tortured.

I heard people saying that they liked this highly anticipated film. The Weinstein Co. bought Mandy Lane, what should be a direct-to-video film, at this festival. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe the Weinstein’s are right – this is only a matter of opinion - But I felt disappointed with what ultimately was just the same old, same old uninteresting, predictable film.

2:45
THE LAST WINTER

Disappointed by the last two films, I was looking forward to what was billed as a ‘sharp, nervy ghost story’ and eco-critique. First off, who writes these TIFF blurbs? And why are they forced to sugarcoat elements of these films, even though they’re blatantly not good? I would much rather they avoid the negatives and focus on the positives rather than euphemizing the negatives into redeeming qualities.

In what was ultimately a thinly veiled critique of Cheney’s top-secret energy plans, the ghost story seemed to be fabricated so that the writer/director could get his point across without having to make a documentary. The resulting script and performances lacked any punch or originality, and honestly, was painful to watch. The worst film of the day – I walked out.

I figured after three bad films, I better not push my luck. I have a big day tomorrow to prepare for, which I’ll tell you about…tomorrow.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

TIFF DAY 5

TIFF DAY 5

It was my intention to watch Away From Her today at 10:00AM, but I arrived to a very long line of industry and press. So far, the busiest film I’ve seen, including Borat and For Your Consideration. So, instead of snaking around stanchions with increasingly ferocious filmies, I decided to take the time to do some work, and catch films later in the day.

1pm
THE KILLER WITHIN
I had heard this documentary compared to Capturing the Friedmans, a docu-mystery which I loved. And the first ten minutes of this film failed to disappoint, as we were introduced to a meek 70-something man who murdered his college bully in his sleep 50 years ago. The film was his coming out: Subtitles told us this is the first time he would share his story with his friends, family, co-workers, and the world. Bob Brechtel claims that his goal is to wake the world up to the dangers of ‘bully culture’, that he deducts incubates killers and victims from a young age. Then, we meet the brother of the man he killed, who says that if Brechtel says he murdered his brother because he was bullied, then it’s a figment of his legally insane imagination and the slander must stop.

It looked to be a classic, 'who do you beleive' type of setup, with all the makings of an eventual 3rd act showdown where the viewer could form their own conclusion as to the merit and validity of the subject’s argument. But they never met.

The result was an interesting case centered around a bland, uninteresting subject that went nowhere. Sure, he gave ‘full disclosure’, but to what result? What conclusion? It was more than evident that the audience was bored as hell after 45 minutes. I would much rather have continued to chat with Steven Zeitchik, the Variety reporter sitting beside me.

3pm
A FEW DAYS IN SEPTEMBER
I chose this film because the line for ‘Half Life of Timofey Berezin’ was daunting. And I’m glad I did.

This is the directorial debut of veteran screenwriter Santiago Amigorena. Roughly half the film took place in Paris, half in Venice, hence a natural France/Italy co-pro.

The film was a thrill-less thriller about the five days leading up to 9/11. I say it was thrill-less because it was a sexy character drama that focused significantly more on the interactions of three strangers than it did on the whodunit. I thought the script was excellent (no surprise), and with lots of close-ups of its beautiful stars (especially Sara Forestier, who’s a French version of Michelle Rodriguez, only attractive) I almost didn’t notice it was 20 minutes too long. Almost.

What the film suggests is that it’s as absurd to think the CIA rerouted the planes that dropped the Twin Towers as it is to think no one but Bin Laden knew what was going to happen.

The latter is what comprises the film’s story, about a shadowy American who tells the Saudis that they should withdraw ALL of their American holdings immediately– but not why.

Why? is the big question in this film, and I am of the opinion that as long as you get your answers at the end, asking WHY is an excellent way to watch a movie. And the audience applauded despite a flat, predictable climax, which I think says something coming from such a jaded, seen-it-all-before group.

5:45PM
THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY
This is exactly the type of rom-com debut feature you would expect from an actor-turned-writer/director: wacky, out-there characters (I would bet thousands he pitched them as Quirky), some funny dialogue, some really bad jokes, a decent soundtrack, and the obnoxious ‘speed up/slow down’ thing that young directors seem to get so jazzed about. The result is a poor movie with some good moments. And Isla Fisher’s father sticking her diaphragm into his sandwich is not one of them.

Jason Biggs was good in this film, even if it was the same character he played in the American Pie franchise (it didn’t help matters that his father character was the same, watered down version of Eugene Levy’s in those films). Joey Pants’ turn as a jailbird father rivals Tim Robbins' racist villain as the worst performance by a good actor at this festival.

Director Michael Ian Black is an asshole, if his Celebrity Poker performance is any indication, and therefore I feel no fault in declaring this movie a delicate disaster. The entire premise, about a guy who asks a complete stranger to marry him – she says yes – is ridiculous and requires a great leap of faith. Even worse is the typical ‘girl uncovers guy’s secret and kicks him out’ moment at the mid-point of the 2nd act that lacked any firepower whatsoever. Zero emotional impact. Why? Because these two strangers did not yet formed a relationship (his fault as the writer, and another reason why young directors shouldn't necessarily direct their own scripts). For god's sake, they hadn’t even kissed before she finds out he was once engaged and banishes him to take public transit home.

I wish that all first-time romantic comedy writers could read this script. It’s an excellent example of how a few gaggy set-pieces and ‘zany’ characters DO NOT guarantee gold on the screen, but instead can isolate the audience and their emotions if small things like ‘plot’ and ‘logic’ aren’t tended to.

And now, I’m going home. Got a headache and a tickle in my throat. I hope I’m not getting sick.

Monday, September 11, 2006

TIFF DAY 4

9:30AM
FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION

Everyone’s been excited about this film. It’s been buzzing around the festival along with Borat and DoaP. Christopher Guest’s departure from the mockumentary genre wasn’t such a departure after all – because much of the film is told through the lens of an Entertainment Tonight type show, it allows for the direct-to-camera interviews that have been a stalwart of his films since Guffman.

This movie, about actors caught up in internet Oscar buzz during the production of a film called ‘Home for Purim’, is very funny. I love ensembles, and Guest’s familiar cast does their 'thang’ damn well. It must be tough for a director to divvy up screen time for all of these fantastic actors and characters, but I suppose it’s an enviable position. I find it challenging as a young writer to balance ensemble scenes, let alone full features of 10-plus major characters.

Watched this with Patrick, Hannam, and Dan, and I think it’s safe to say the four of us laughed pretty much through the whole film. Particularly guffaw-worthy is Fred Willard as Ryan Seacrest circa 2035. His hair got a laugh EVERY TIME he appeared on screen – I think that’s a viewing first for me.

At the end of the day, I would say that this film was better than 'Mighty Wind' but not 'Best in Show'. Great actors like Ed Begley Jr. and Eugene Levy were underused (someone had to be), although Guest gets applause from me for not allowing this film to balloon into a 2hr-plus viewing. At 86 minutes, it was just long enough to be near-great. Which on the scale is much better than good and only slightly below great, or an 89% if it were a test. No more films today, as we’re off to the…

CFC BBQ

We got there really early, which felt fairly awkward at first but turned out to be an astute strategic move. We hit the lengthy food lines before anyone else got there. Usually, you join the queue hungry, and by the time you get to the front you’re so fucking ravished that the topsoil starts to look like ground beef and yards of shepherd’s pie mirage begins to line the CFC patio. Not this year –I was fed and full with tons of time left over to schmooze. Mark my words: I will now be the annual ‘uncomfortably early to the BBQ’ guy.

But I find three hours is a bit long to present the plastic smile and kung-fu grip. I did meet some neat new folks, specifically Tess Girard, a young director, and Alex Epstein, who, I must say, can rock a chocolate safari hat like nobody’s business. Part shade, part deterrent, part statement, part self-defense – ALL style.

But otherwise, I found myself drifting from group to group, latching on to someone I knew until they ran into someone I didn’t. Once their conversation turned to old times/their kids/Milan fashion/something I couldn’t contribute to, I moved on like the crazy corduroyed (I was told it was appropriate for the season, apparently not) nomad of the BBQ.

While on the topic of my wardrobe malfunction, I found myself sweating like a Muslim at the airport for most of the afternoon. And I couldn’t take my blazer off because I had cultivated quite a collection of sweat stains under said jacket. I was aware of Armpit Ponds 1 and 2, and Lower Back Lake, but I expect there would have been some unwelcome surprises had I shed the overcoat and gone for the gusto.

It was much less populated than last year – about 1100 instead of 3000. This allowed the CFC’s army of raffle-ticket saleswomen to circle the food tables and bombard us with offers of discontinued iPod Mini skins and raffle tickets. What I found amazing is that many of the thugs...ahem, salespeople were pitching us to contribute to the Canadian Film Institute, the Cdn Film School, even the Cdn Film College. I did not give these good people my $20 bucks – I’m still debating whether I got my $5000 worth from last year.

Despite the gang assaults, it was good to see the same people I’ve been seeing every day since Thursday. I’m going to miss Weird Skinny Mullet Guy, Mrs. Don’t-Own-A-Bra, and the Mustachioed Three when the festival wraps.

After this, I absolutely had to go get some exercise. Whatever I felt inside of me, it wasn't healthy. A steady diet of street meat and popcorn had me feeling even less healthy than usual. I ran around for a few hours, and felt marginally better about myself...for a few more hours.

Final thought: I’m a bit enraged that a writer friend of mine, a CFC ALUMN, didn’t receive an invite to the party. How can they do that? contributedt a working writer that has contirubted tsvelte culture of the building, so that svelt housewives can bring their designer-clad fauxhawked kiddies to kick people in the shins and dance around the grass? Just saying. And those who know me know how much I love affectionate things that are smaller than me. This isn't about them. It's about doing what's right.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

TIFF DAYS 2 and 3

DAY 2.

THE USA VS. JOHN LENNON

I love the Cumberland. I find the entire experience much more pleasant than the Varsity – from the staff, to the crowds, to the theatres. I can safely say that I’ve never seen a bad fest film at the Cumberland. Ever. Come to think of it, going forward I'll make it a contractal requirement that any film I write must open at the Cumberland. It’ll ward off bad spirits.

Anyhow: This film was good. I admit to not being well-versed in Lennon’s personal history (as a producer at a party last night informed me, he died the year before I was born), so there wasn’t much about this film that was repetitive. VH1 was involved, and it featured exclusive interviews with Yoko, G. Gordon Libby, George McGovern, and Gore Vidal (who I dig – and you know who also earned himself a barrelful of Budd Points? McGovern. Why couldn’t a man like this be elected President? I blame inconvienient timing and the intraparty tinkering.)

Vietnam, Communism, and Nixon (Think Iraq, Islam, and Bush with bellbottoms) are at the forefront of this film. Without mentioning current events at all, the doc quietly illuminates the devious criminality going on south of the border today. And you can be sure that 20 years from now, investigative films about the current administration will be FLOODING the theatres, and we’re all going to be sick to our stomachs and vow to never let it happen again…until the next time.

Add to the interviews some very candid footage of John that really showed his wit, humor, and moral constitution…result? A decent, if not great, movie. It’s really a total talking head/archives doc, but the subject is interesting and engaging enough to put the cuffs on my ADD for 90 minutes.

Favorite Line: “Patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel” – Gore Vidal

BORAT CULTURAL LEARNINGS OF AMERICAN FOR MAKE BENEFIT GLORIOUS NATION OF KAZAKHS

Fuck. Let’s have a round of applause for 20th Century Fox, who, after watching “Team America”, must have thought: “Eh...That’s only so-so offensive. Let's raise the bar, shall we?”

Borat's targets: Jews, Women, Gays, Rednecks, Jews, New Yorkers, Blacks, University students…and Jews.

Borat is so overtly inappropriate that you don’t question for a second where his true self lies. It’s a spectacle indeed, and something that everyone should see. Cohen explains it as “a dramatic demonstration of how racism feeds on dumb conformity, as much as rabid bigotry.” The Kazakh government doesn’t agree, but really, they don’t hold much weight in the Valley. Even Billy Baldwin has more clout.

Jay Roach, Todd Phillips, Sasha Cohen, Larry Charles. It’s a no brainer. The film is hilarious. Absolutely and totally make-your-cheeks-ache funny. I don’t want to ruin any of it for anyone, so that’s all I’m giving you.

Favorite Line: “Children! Run and stomp on the egg before the Jew Chick hatches!”

TIFF DAY 3

Last night was party kick-off night. I started at a pre-party for ‘up-and-comers’. I hate this phrase. Up-and-comers? Where am I coming from? And why does it connote that I was nowhere before? Do they have Down-and-Leavers parties? I want an invite to that one.

This was hosted by Roma Khanna, Senior VP of content at the mighty Chum. She was very pleasant, as were most of her guests. I met some very nice people that I could see working with in the future, had some great spring rolls, and got to soak up the Spoke patio which I always hate until I get there.

After that, the big ‘schmooze’ (sounds like a spreadable treat) at City TV, where thousands of screaming fans wait for their favorite celebs to prance down the red carpet and into the party. Only thing is that none of these ‘celebs’ were actually in the party, save for the obligatory Canadian content. Or maybe they were, and I'm just not cool enough to know it. Regardless, I had a blast, enjoyed many beverages, got rained on, introduced myself around as Emmett, and saw some old CFC friends.

But fun last night isn't fun for today. I’ve got the hat, hood, and sunglass uniform on. Thank god all I have to do is sit in a dark room and gorge on buttered popcorn. God bless butter.

THE LAST KING OF SCOTLAND

I’m one of those guys who hasn't ever really been impressed by Forest Whitaker. I didn’t like Ghost Dog, so there’s that. While I respected him as an actor, I didn’t understand the high praise he receives from better educated cinephiles.

After watching this movie, I get it. Forest Whitaker is an excellent actor. And he gives a look that makes Don Cheadle’s legendary stare whimper like a belt-whipped Schnauser. I’ll wait for an Oscar nod before I roll out the I-told-you-so’s.

James McAvoy was also great, more than standing ground with Forest’s performance. Nice to see Agent Scully in the rural Uganda. Although she really served no purpose, nor were the first ten minutes necessary to relay his character arc, but I'll allow the indulgence.

Idi Amin was a ‘child’, as he’s described in the film. A child that ruled a nation. And to the filmmaker’s credit, as well as Whitaker’s, you actually like this brutal dictator at times. He’s charming. He’s friendly. He’s a psychopath! Evidence A: He kills one of his wives and chops off her limbs...then re-stitches her arms where her legs should be and vice versa. Very hard to watch.

Yet a very commanding film. You can’t take your eyes off Whitaker, because as Idi Amin, he’s always got his eyes on you. Literally. He stares for a good part of the movie. And it speaks volumes.

Between this and Borat, the two best film’s I’ve seen yet. Not that I’ve seen that many…but I have yet to walk out on a snoozer...


FALKENBERG FAREWELL

I spoke too soon.

A) I couldn’t understand these Swedes. They talk too damn fast, and that’s that. Also, the subtitles were in a font with like, 35% opacity. So they were almost illegible.
B) I saw way too many penises in the first ten minutes to continue watching. Call me old fashioned, but I like my penises spread throughout a film, not front-loaded.

CATCH A FIRE

I was in line for All The King’s Men, but there’s another screening later in the week and I overheard this was going to be good from two 'woMen' sitting across from me at breakfast.

I don’t think it was, however. Some may disagree, but I found it s l o w. Maybe I was all Africa’d out from the Amin film, I dunno, I just wasn’t into it. It took forever to get going, and for no good reason. The few engaging scenes came too late.

The script was average at best, but stood out specifically for Tim Robbins, who spits some very poor dialogue. He’s a good actor, but this was not a good performance, lacking in nuance and depth. Derek Luke showed me more range than he did in Biker Boyz or Moesha. This emotional type of film is exactly what your agent tells you will get you ‘serious work’.

I fell asleep at the end. Don’t tell anyone, okay? I blame the butter.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

TIFF DAY 1

TIFF DAY 1

11:00 AM
KABUL EXPRESS

Squeaked my way into a seat at the last minute. This guy’s breakfast Dr. Pepper is occupying MY cup holder. Had to wedge a water bottle between my legs. The stress of keeping my crotch dry from designer water cost me at least three grey hairs.

I remember reading about this film in Variety, specifically the mag touting director Kabir Khan as the only regional renegade capable of making the first film shot entirely in Afghanistan since the fall of the Taliban. I remember thinking, ‘cool!’, followed by ‘this guy's got big ones.'

Synopsis: Weeks after September 11th, two Indian journalists go to Afghanistan hoping get a rare interview with a Taliban member. They finally find one – who kidnaps them and their chauffeur, forcing them to sneak him to the Pakistani border.

What’s good: The two leads, John Abraham (if it were the 80’s, he’d be the Indian Richard Grieco) and Arshad Warsi were excellent. They were a great buddy duo. And despite the subject matter, the film had some classically funny moments. Humanizing the Taliban kidnapper is what separated this film from an American version of the same story. The climax, while predictable, still evoked an emotional response from a jaded, seen-it-all-before audience of press and industry folk.

What’s bad: It was a bit of a struggle casting the American Reuters journalist who’s beauty is only surpassed by her….

Well, usually, this character has another redeeming quality, but the only thing she contributed to the film was getting the other characters in trouble. The audience actually groaned at the trite, melodramatic dialogue that Khan gave her (as the rest of the writing was tight, was this a deliberate attempt to embarrass the sole American character? I hope so).

And another thing: Whoever told Linda Aresnio she could act was lying. She made Beyonce’s performance in Goldmember look like Meryl in Sophie’s Choice. The last time I saw such an over-the-top performance, the pony-tailed pizza man just followed the sorority girl to her bedroom so she could get the correct change (and I could go on…)

And for most of us westerners who ignorantly assume Afghanistan and India and Iraq and Iran are all the same cratered oppressors, the film did an excellent job of separating and identifying Indian ideology and characteristics from Afghan, from Pakistani.

“These guys carry guns like we carry cell phones.” A great line of dialogue from the two Indian journalists.

Overall, I enjoyed it. And I won the arm-rest.

1:45
LONDON TO BRIGHTON

Got a seat where I could put my feet up. I heard a recent study that this increases viewing pleasure 187%. Don’t ask me to cite my sources, but suffice to say I could have watched the Motorola commercial on a 90-minute loop and been pleased as punch (whatever that means).

Billed as the gritty gangster funfests that the Brits are known for, this flawed but watchable film was really about the loss of innocence. It was certainly much more emotionally commanding than the average mob flick, but the gangster stuff actually wasn’t very interesting – especially the antagonists, who were foul-mouthed, 5-o’clock shadowed carbon copies of the worst Guy Ritchie villian.

Fortunately for this film, the protagonists were great, and a departure from the norm.
The film followed an unattractive streetwalker and a 12 yr. old runaway as they flee from the mob. The only twist on the "common-pimp-bullied-by-a-organized-boss-into-catching-one-of -his-hoes-who-done-him-wrong" story was this: Within 5 minutes, the mob boss cut the tendons of pimp’s hamstrings, causing the pimp to run around England limping and bleeding, chasing our heroines for two acts. Talk about really cranking the stakes and tension.

I liked it despite itself and was engaged right up until the predictable ending. I have never understood why we defer to Movie Logic in this scenario:

Mob boss sends the henchman to do hunt down someone who fucked him over. Only in the third act, once he gets them all together, in a ‘dramatic twist’ he kills the henchman and lets the two people (always our heroes) he’s spent the WHOLE FUCKING MOVIE HUNTING walk away free.

So, dog sends cat to catch mouse. Cat comes back with mouse, dog kills cat. Why didn’t dog just kill cat at the beginning? Why put cat throught the motions? Why worry mouse unnecessarily?

Enough about dogs and cats. Today was Festival Lite. I’m going to get a good night’s sleep. Because tomorrow, after a hectic viewing schedule, the parties begin.