TIFF 2023

TIFF 2023: Days 6 and 7

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Day 6 began with a favorite that was expected, another that wasn’t and a third film that wasn’t in the same league but still deserves to find an audience. I squeezed in one more title on Day 7 before leaving Film Fest Land once again, returning to normal life.

THE HOLDOVERS

If Alexander Payne’s last film, 2017’s sci-fi allegory DOWNSIZING was a big swing and a miss, his latest plays it much safer for the benefit of everyone involved. A return to smart, dyspeptic comedy, THE HOLDOVERS also reunites Payne with another master of the form, Paul Giamatti, the star of his 2004 hit SIDEWAYS. Together, they’re a director/actor pair in sync with one another as much as Scorsese and De Niro or Holofcener and Keener.

The setting is an elite all-boys boarding school in Massachusetts 1970 (it was shot throughout the state, including a side trip to Boston.) Giamatti plays Paul Hunham, an ornery, pompous teacher who, like his Miles in SIDEWAYS is really just another masochistic, insecure underachiever. He gets stuck staying on campus for Christmas break to supervise the few students unable to go home. One of them, Angus (Dominic Sessa) is as intelligent as he is belligerent with a history of antagonizing Paul (and vice-versa.) Also staying on campus for the break is Mary (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), a cafeteria manager whose own son was recently killed in Vietnam. Angus and Paul evolve from being enemies to gradually understanding one another but David Hemingson’s screenplay presents this organically, further made convincing by the three central performances. In addition to Giamatti just doing what he does best, Sessa in his film debut is a great find on the order of, say, Lucas Hedges in MANCHESTER BY THE SEA while Randolph (MY NAME IS DOLEMITE) beautifully inhabits a complex character working through her grief.

Not only set in 1970, THE HOLDOVERS also looks and feels like a film from that period with its painstakingly correct stylistic touches such as its opening credits font, slow dissolves and winsome, period folk-rock soundtrack. At the TIFF Q&A, Payne mentioned that he always thought of himself as a 1970s New Hollywood-influenced director, so why not make a movie set in that decade. The highest praise I can give him is that he fully captures the feeling and substance of a good Hal Ashby film or one of Robert Altman’s smaller ensemble pictures. Though not exactly groundbreaking, it’s a solid, satisfying throwback and also a comeback for Payne as I haven’t liked anything from him this much since, well, SIDEWAYS. (Score: 9/10)

THE TEACHERS’ LOUNGE

A junior high school is as ideal a setting as any for a taut thriller and this German film gets all the little details right as to why—in particular, a mounting, no-going-back pressure of the sort easily egged on by early adolescents, although it comes just as swiftly from their parents and teachers. One of the latter, Carol (Leonie Benesch) has just taken her first job out of teaching school. She’s initially a natural—her control of and engagement with her students is readily apparent and impressive for such a novice. The trouble begins when a thief starts stealing money from various faculty. Carol is vehemently against the interrogation techniques the principal and her colleagues use on suspected (targeted, really) students. As more money goes missing, she decides to take matters into her own hands, making a shocking discovery in the school’s titular space. She’s also left immediately blindsided (and also targeted in a different way) by her action’s consequences.

I didn’t know what to expect coming into THE TEACHER’S LOUNGE, only mildly intrigued by its title and premise. I left it nearly buzzing with excitement from its cunning trajectory: in solving a mystery, good intentions end up backfiring magnificently for all parties involved. Meanwhile, due to opposing, unwavering stances exacerbated by public shaming conducted both in person and over social media, the tension ramps up until it reaches a near-breaking point. Suspicion, paranoia, desperation and hysteria all factor into how a seemingly straightforward conflict gets blown way out of proportion and the film rarely wavers in holding one’s attention. It may even go a little too far for some in the last act, though the final scene satisfyingly offers a modicum of closure for a seemingly unresolvable situation. (8/10)

WE GROWN NOW

Set in a re-creation of the now-demolished high rise towers of the notorious Chicago housing project Cabrini-Green in 1992, Minhal Baig’s film focuses on two 12-year-old boys living there: Malik (Blake Cameron James) and Eric (Gian Knight Ramirez). When not partaking in such activities as pushing a mattress down a dozen flights of stairs to use as a playground implement or playing hooky from school to explore the Loop, they’re faced with the harsher realities of this world: drug-ridden crime, drive-by shootings, reactionary police raids. As Malik’s mother Delores (Jurnee Smollet) looks for a safer environment for her family, what was once an inseparable friendship between the two boys begins to fray. While it doesn’t come close to achieving the rare poetry of obvious influences such as KILLER OF SHEEP or the fourth season of THE WIRE, this evokes a time and place in vivid enough detail (especially in the dimly lit, sparsely furnished apartments); James and Ramirez, both in their film debuts are also well cast. Still, it’s a type of story that’s been told many times before and far less predictably. (6/10)

THE BEAST

In past films like SAINT LAURENT and NOCTURAMA, I’ve admired director Bertrand Bonello’s approach and elements of his heightened style without finding them complete or entirely convincing. His latest gets closer than ever to feeling whole but that’s primarily due to star Lea Seydoux appearing in nearly every scene. Her Gabrielle is paired with Louis (George MacKay) principally across three time periods: 1904 France, 2014 Los Angeles and a near-future heavily shaped by artificial intelligence. Bonello will also occasionally and briefly shift to 1980 or the mid-1960s for scenes that seem present mostly to indulge in era-appropriate music or fashion. The constant throughout this is how Gabrielle and Louis spin in orbit but can never fully connect with each other for reasons not fully apparent until late in the film.

Very loosely adapted from the Henry James novella THE BEAST IN THE JUNGLE, the film is perhaps overlong but rarely boring. It’s mostly a showcase for Seydoux and MacKay as they inhabit different personas in alternate time periods (the latter especially effective when shifting from a European aristocrat to a 21st Century incel) and, as usual, also one for Bonello’s depiction of worlds only possible through a camera lens. I’m not sure what it all adds up to although its fixation on AI seems especially timely and considered; let’s just hope it doesn’t start an accidental trend by way of its high-concept end credits “roll”. (7/10)

TIFF 2023: Day 5

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Day 5 was my one four-film day at TIFF 2023; it’s also when I saw both my favorite and least favorite films of the festival.

PICTURES OF GHOSTS

Sifting through and reminiscing about one’s own past is easy; contextualizing these memories and enabling them to resonate with an audience is trickier, as one has likely experienced in many an autobiographical narrative or essay film (Chris Marker and Agnes Varda were the gold standards for pulling the latter format off.) In his follow-up to the phantasmagorical horror epic BACURAU, Kleber Mendonça Filho utilizes the essay film to both celebrate and scrutinize his coastal hometown of Recife, Brazil, the setting for his breakthrough feature AQUARIUS starring Sonia Braga.

Structured as a triptych, the film first considers Mendonça Filho’s childhood family home before shifting to the cinemas (some still standing, others long gone) that were formative in cultivating his love of film (he was a critic before becoming a filmmaker.) The third section builds on the previous two, considering cinema as a church and the symbiotic relationship between the two in a predominantly Catholic country such as Brazil. Abetted by his own narration, the film is a marvel of editing as the present day often mirrors and occasionally contrasts with archival footage he and his family shot of his home, the cinemas he once worked in as a projectionist and other imagery of Recife throughout the past five decades from a cornucopia of sources.

It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what makes PICTURES OF GHOSTS so effective in inviting the viewer to partake in and comprehend one artist’s own past. In his last two features, Mendonça Filho exhibited an enthusiasm about cinema and proved how bold stylistic choices could enhance a story without distracting from it. In relaying his own story, he’s made his most complete and compelling work yet—all the way to a playful, metaphysical finale that not only re-emphasizes the meaning of the film’s title but also comes to life with an unlikely but evocative needle drop for the ages. (Score: 10/10)

CLOSE TO YOU

When Elliot Page announced his transition, I was curious as to how this might change his acting career; his first major film role since then does suggest a new phase, returning to the small-scale, nuanced indie dramas that showcased his talent before JUNO made him a household name. This Canadian production from British director Dominic Savage gives Page an opportunity to play an out trans character and one immediately senses how at ease he is in the role, more so than anything he’s done since he was a teenager. While his character, Sam, who returns to his small hometown to visit family for the first time since his recent transition is obviously a role written with him in mind, at a post-screening Q&A, Page was quick to point out that while he obviously related to his character, his own coming out and post-transition experiences were entirely different.

In that Q&A, I was also surprised to find out that much of the film was improvised in a Mike Leigh-like fashion, consisting of the best bits of long, unscripted takes. It makes the final product’s apparent seamlessness all the more impressive as the ensemble emits a lived-in familial dynamic. It’s slightly more convincing than the parallel narrative where Sam runs into and deeply reconnects with Katherine (Hilary Baack), a hearing-impaired friend from high school. This could’ve been a separate film, although Savage just gets away with incorporating it beside the main plot. While multiple conflicts and their resolutions are a bit on the nose (to the point where decades from now, I can imagine how simplistic or dated they may come across), this is most significant and effective as a reintroduction to Page and a reminder to why he became such a major onscreen presence to begin with. (8/10)

FRYBREAD FACE AND ME

Billy Luther, a Navajo, Hopi, and Laguna Pueblo filmmaker best known for documentaries (MISS NAVAJO) makes his fiction feature debut with this gentle coming-of-age tale. 11-year-old city kid Benny (Keir Tallman) is sent to spend the summer with his relatives living on a ranch in isolated Northern Arizona. A bit of a naïve misfit often cloaked in a Stevie Nicks t-shirt, he gradually befriends his worldlier cousin Dawn (Charley Hogan) the “Frybread Face” of the title who has also been dropped off for the summer. Set in 1990, the film often comes off as something that could’ve been made back then, complete with lessons learned and somewhat overdone narration. If that sounds like faint praise, note that Luther has also crafted an affable, family friendly story with the occasional conflict/melodramatic detour that nonetheless remains pleasantly low-stakes. Tallman and Hogan are both fine, but Sarah H. Natani leaves the most lasting impression as Lorraine, Benny’s beatific, Navajo-speaking grandmother. (6/10)

SOLO

Simon (Théodore Pellerin), a talented young performer in Montreal’s close-knit drag community is immediately smitten by Oliver (Félix Maritaud), a fellow drag queen freshly transplanted from France. They pursue a whirlwind romance while also collaborating together onstage, although their vast differences in temperament cause more conflict and drama than anything resembling a healthy personal or professional relationship. Meanwhile, Simon still courts the attention of his mother Claire (Anne-Marie Cadieux) who long ago left his family behind to become a renowned opera singer. This premise has some potential, but not with such one-dimensional characters (Simon is a doormat, Oliver is a prick.) The more glaring problem, however, is that writer-director Sophie Dupuis brings little new to this type of narrative. It’s set in the present, but SOLO could’ve easily come out twenty or thirty years ago; sure, the costumes and drag performances (Pellerin deserves a better vehicle) are lively and entertaining, but it’s a shame to waste them all on a story so wafer-thin and by now overly familiar—I’ve already seen RUPAUL’S DRAG RACE UNTUCKED, thank you very much. (4/10)

TIFF 2023: Days 3 and 4

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I was a little concerned that everything I saw at this year’s TIFF would fall somewhere between good and meh, until I saw the first film reviewed below–the last thing I watched on Day 4.

THE FEELING THAT THE TIME FOR DOING SOMETHING HAS PASSED

It’s not wrong detecting allusions to other directors in Joanna Arnow’s feature debut: Roy Andersson’s static camera and deadpan humor, Miranda July’s gentle, slightly off-kilter whimsy, even Woody Allen’s simple white serif-font title on a black background. One can acknowledge such influences as it’s near-impossible to create something entirely new, even in an art form that’s relatively not so old. Still, it’s tempting to deem Arnow an original talent because she brings something highly distinct to the medium both as a writer-director and as a performer.

Arnow stars as Ann, an office worker in her early 30s whose sex life consists of a series of BDSM relationships where she is the submissive participant. In the very first scene, she’s naked in bed with a fully clothed Allen (Scott Cohen), an older divorcee who is her most prominent dominant. With her very average body type and vulnerable, direct (if near-bored) demeanor, Ann immediately reads as an unconventional protagonist—plain yet with a specific point of view, a little mousy but determined, choosing her words carefully though never in a hurry to stop talking. Absurd humor is laced throughout the film’s brief vignettes which occasionally expand beyond the bedroom to Ann’s corporate workplace (a supervisor chides her for not making good on her promise not to outlast her there as an employee) and her elderly parents. Seamlessly played by Arnow’s own parents, she has arguments and other interactions with them that are simultaneously mundane, nagging and hilarious primarily for being so true-to-life: Who can’t relate to the mounting pressure of being asked to bring an unwanted piece of fruit home with them?

Divided into five chapters, the film tracks Ann as she moves from Allen to a variety of other doms, eventually meeting a guy who might be a candidate for her first “normal” relationship. What Arnow never forgets is that no matter how funny or relatable a situation may come across, “normal” is itself an abstract, almost meaningless concept. The peculiar way she views the world will inevitably seem off-putting to some (that lengthy title!) but enchanting to others for how she finds the humor in these absurdities and indignities without taking herself too seriously or losing focus of what makes them seem so real. (Score: 9/10)

FLIPSIDE

Chris Wilcha, who worked on the TV-version of THIS AMERICAN LIFE has many unfinished projects scattered throughout his career. This documentary, ostensibly about the still-hanging-on small town New Jersey record store he worked in as a teen thirty-odd years ago, nearly ended up as another one, until he noticed a thread running through many of these partially-completed works: the passage of time and what it means to hold on to sentimental talismans from one’s past. Thus, FLIPSIDE resembles a tapestry of sorts, jumping from the record store’s proudly old-fashioned owner to Wilcha’s old boss Ira Glass, jazz-great photographer Herman Leonard, DEADWOOD creator David Milch and even cult kiddie-show host Uncle Floyd.

As a fellow white, middle-aged, NPR listening music obsessive, I am clearly the target audience for this personal essay film and I can imagine some critics older and younger resisting the urge to yell at Wilcha, “Get over it!” And yet, I have to applaud Wilcha for this film’s continually expanding narrative—once you get past the self-indulgence of him examining his own life, you see the interwoven connections between all these subjects and also how each one suggests an alternate but equally viable path to growing older and staying both motivated and stimulated. To retain a fondness for the past but not let it determine (nor hinder) the future is a philosophy he puts in the work to arrive at, and the effort often proves as edifying as the destination. (8/10)

SEAGRASS

A touchy-feely couples retreat with activities that allow you to bring the kids along? What could possibly go wrong? In Meredith Hama-Brown’s mid-90s-set indie drama, husband and wife Judith (Ally Maki) and Steve (Luke Roberts) and their two young girls travel to the British Columbia coast for this vacation of sorts and no one seems very happy about it. As the parents confront their drifting, gradually fractured relationship with opposing tactics that do not prove especially helpful for either of them, 11-year-old Stephanie ((Nyha Breitkreuz) and 6-year-old Emmy (Remy Marthaller) both deal with their own issues: perhaps due to Judith’s mom having passed away six months before, Stephanie exhibits antisocial behavior while Emmy believes her grandmother’s ghost is omnipresent, observing and also haunting them at their resort and the nearby jagged, voluminous ocean caves.

While often a fount of amusing material, new age-y couples therapy is a rather easy and familiar target for satire and this hits all the expected notes: props, trustfall-like exercises, screaming and the like. It’s fortunate, then, that not only is the cast game for it, they all function together as a deeply believable dysfunctional unit, one with a shared, extensive history that’s palpable even before specifics are revealed. What pushes the film even further away from its simple premise is its expansive sound design and sense and manipulation of space. The sequences where Emmy is left to her own devices, letting her imagination and superstition take precedence are gorgeous and eerie, opening up the film to consider the ambience of a world that can seem mysterious and unfamiliar to any six-year-old. Building to a maelstrom of a final act, SEAGRASS evolves from predictable to nearly extraordinary. (8/10)

GREAT ABSENCE

Shot by Yutaka Yamazaki, who has worked on Hirokazu Kore-eda films from AFTER LIFE to AFTER THE SUN, this second feature from Kei Chika-ura is often Kore-eda Lite, although what’s missing is the supple touch the veteran filmmaker usually suffuses his work with. It doesn’t lack for ambition, though—this is a puzzle film of sorts, utilizing flashbacks and abrupt temporal shifts in piecing together the dramatic, present-day action occurring in the film’s first scene. The structure requires active viewing and ample patience from the viewer, but the reveals often end up not resonating in relation to the amount of effort built into them. Fortunately, the acting just about saves it: Tatsuya Fuji, whom some might remember from IN THE REALM OF THE SENSES gives a tremendous and sincere portrait of someone afflicted by Alzheimer’s Disease without ever showing off while Mirai Moriyama (primarily known as a dancer rather than an actor) and Hideko Hara (SHALL WE DANCE) both hold their own as his son and wife, respectively. Although dense and overlong, Chika-ura exhibits enough skill and inspiration that I wouldn’t mind revisiting this to see if I missed anything. (6/10)

VALENTINA OR THE SERENITY

A big draw of TIFF for me is an opportunity to see films from remote corners of the world that might not otherwise be available or on my radar. Sometimes they’re excellent and occasionally they’re atrocious, but this one, from an Indigenous Mixtec village in Oaxaca, Mexico, is neither—just a pleasant little film about a young girl who refuses to believe her father has died in a freak drowning accident, going so far to claim that he has spoken to her from the river where he met his maker. As Valentina, Danae Ahuja Aparicio is the best thing about it—she has a naturalness that can’t be faked or learned. Her optimism is as deeply felt as her stubbornness and through her, the film is a window onto a culture’s distinct rituals and sensibilities. Having said that, Ángeles Cruz’s direction is rarely more than capable and even at a slim 86 minutes, the premise would have been better suited to a short. At the very least, you’ll come away from it knowing the Mixtec body language to summon thunder and lightning at will. (5/10)

TIFF 2023: Days 1 and 2

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I returned to the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) for the first time in nine years (in person, anyway; attended the virtual 2020 edition from my laptop.) I saw 17 films and will be posting reviews in groups of four (and in one case, five.)

ORLANDO, MY POLITICAL BIOGRAPHY

With this unconventional documentary, transgender writer/philosopher/feminist Paul B. Preciado doesn’t so much take Virginia Woolf’s ORLANDO back from the 1992 Sally Potter film starring Tilda Swinton in the title role as he comprehensively shows how her story about a figure living both male and female lives is one decidedly a century ahead of its time. Utilizing the sort of playfulness and defiance once favored by director Derek Jarman (for whom Swinton was a muse), Preciado interviews a score of trans and non-binary persons of all ages and races, each of them wearing the signature ruffled collar favored by Woolf’s character and introducing themselves by proclaiming, “I am (name) and I will be playing the part of Virginia Woolf’s ORLANDO.” 

For a first-time director, it’s arguably uneven: Preciado doesn’t hesitate to confound expectations or startle an audience into submission with a soundtrack swerving between thumping diva house and annihilating thrash metal or phantasmagorical scenarios straight from a particularly wacky Kate Bush music video. No matter how quirky or slapdash he comes across, there’s a sincerity and root-for-the-underdog momentum. His disparate voices coalesce into a Greek chorus where the power of and goodwill executed by individual stories gains focus rather than fixating on the dryness of gender theory or intellectual polemics. ORLANDO becomes a prescient text that’s not necessarily a bible but more of a jumping-off point. What also seemed like sensory overload on first view has had staying power: with time to fully digest all of its thoughts and quirks, this is one of the more innovative and entertaining documentaries I saw at the festival. (Rating: 8/10)

UNICORNS

Luke (Ben Hardy), a working-class straight bloke from Essex, unwittingly wanders into a London gay club and falls hard for Aysha (Jason Patel), a drag queen, making out with him before he realizes he’s not kissing a woman. At first, Luke recoils violently but over time he and Aysha forge a professional relationship that bleeds over into friendship and eventual love.

Co-directed by Sally El-Hosaini (THE SWIMMERS) and screenwriter James Krishna Floyd, UNICORNS is a conventional, slick and unapologetic crowd pleaser. Floyd noted that it takes a “non-binary approach” to a love story for which it’s more commendable than original and yet, despite its calculation and unlikeliness, I found it considerably moving by the end. Much of the credit goes to its two leads, especially Hardy who gives a nuanced, expressive performance that often overrides his inarticulateness and convincingly conveys his internal struggles and growth. Newcomer Patel also excels at delivering the contrast between his flamboyant onstage persona and the far staider version of himself he displays for his conservative parents.

The depiction of an Asian drag culture in the UK is fascinating for how it goes beyond portraying it as a loving but dysfunctional family, ending up in some dark corners that create drama and near-tragic consequences for Aysha. It ultimately brings the two leads closer together but its implications speak of a world where it’s not enough to be who you are, it’s how willing you can be to let others in. Along with Hardy and Patel’s performances, this is what resonated strongly with me at the conclusion. Manipulative? Yes, but also heartfelt. (7/10)

THEY SHOT THE PIANO PLAYER

Bossa Nova music and Jeff Goldblum, together at last. Your mileage may vary depending on either of those things (particularly the latter) but this docu-animation hybrid is a mostly worthy successor to co-directors Fernando Trueba’s and Javier Mariscal’s 2010 Havana-centered feature CHICO AND RITA. Goldblum plays an author (named Jeff, natch) who in a framing device recounts his efforts via a reading at New York City’s famous Strand Bookstore. His goal? To find out what happened to Francisco Tenório Jr., a Brazilian jazz pianist active in the 1950s/60s Bossa Nova scene whom after a few recordings seems to have disappeared. Interviewing an impressive array of living legends from the movement (JoãoGilberto, Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil), Jeff gradually pieces together a trajectory of a country that underwent a culture renaissance while also suddenly finding itself subject to totalitarian rule.

As with CHICO AND RITA, the film’s whimsical visual design, Wes Anderson-level attention to detail and vintage music are both delightful and often sublime; Goldblum, himself a musician also feels an apt choice for a narrator. What’s missing here, however, is not only an extensive dive into why Tenório was a great musician but a compelling enough reason to care about his specific disappearance. He comes off as a stand-in for the many so-called dissidents silenced by Brazil’s regime—a collection of fragments rather than a complete portrait. Worth seeing for aficionados of Brazilian jazz and unique animation, but not much of a reach beyond those interests. (6/10)

GONZO GIRL

One of the better-received directed-by-an-actor films populating TIFF this year, this behind-the-camera debut from Patricia Arquette is most notable for another terrific late-career performance from Willem Dafoe. His Walker Reade, a Hunter S. Thompson stand-in works in part because Dafoe doesn’t attempt to emulate the infamous late writer/personality (save for a few sartorial choices). Instead, he embodies his spirit while also coming off as a heightened, drugged up version of, well, himself and does so with such totality and finesse that he almost seems like the protagonist when he isn’t one. That would be Alley (Camila Morrone), the straightlaced college student working as his intern in the summer of 1992.

An adaptation of Cheryl Della Pietra’s memoir of the same name, one can sense what attracted Arquette to making it and also why she’s well-suited for both this material and a smaller role as Reade’s caretaker/drug-runner. It’s best when she doesn’t take the text too seriously and has fun with the more outrageous aspects of Pietra’s shenanigans with Thompson (Alley’s first acid trip is rendered as an endearingly handmade magical mystery tour) and his unconventional writing process. Not as inspirationally zany as, say, FLIRTING WITH DISASTER, the 1996 screwball romp Arquette co-starred in, but for an enticingly screwy first film, more than competent and not at all embarrassing. (7/10)