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By Steve Ramos
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Ralph Fiennes
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The gray-haired man screamed with unexpected fury. "I trusted you! I trusted you!" he yelled at the movie screen. It was an abrupt puncture to the overwhelming silence that had grabbed hold of the audience long before. The film playing, The War Zone, the directorial debut by Brit actor Tim Roth, had tackled Alexander Stuart's tale of a dysfunctional rural family with searing intensity. Basically, the audience was numbed by what they were witnessing on screen.
But this older film fanatic was intent on stopping the movie. He left his seat and tried to pull the fire alarm. Roth chased the man into the back alley of the cavernous Uptown Cinema. Their shouts could be heard above the movie's dialogue. Later, Roth returned to the auditorium to take questions from the audience. Of course, everyone wanted to know what happened. Roth's explanation was upfront: The man had his own experience with incest and the film spoke too close for comfort.
It felt appropriate that a film would send someone literally screaming at the Toronto International Film Festival. The fest itself is a surreal event best summed up as 10 days of movie madness. Using the phone-book-sized festival catalogue as a guide to find one's way through the 319 films becomes a Herculean effort. There are days when every movie seems to blur together into one celluloid nightmare. Often, with brilliant films like The War Zone, the outside world comes to a crashing halt and for an extended 99-minute moment, nothing else matters other than the film on screen.
That man at The War Zone screening, that screaming man, is proof that movies can still make an emotional impact. He's proof that film still matters.
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Mansfield Park
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There were moments when it seemed like the 1999 Toronto fest would never end. The screenings appeared endless. There was no end to interviews. But finally, just when it seemed like everyone involved would drop from exhaustion, the fest lumbered to a close like some Japanese moviemade monster beast stopping for a much-needed breather.
A lush period piece -- first-time director Martha Fiennes' adaptation of Aleksandr Pushkin's Yevgeny Onegin -- proved to be an appropriate finale. A stately drama of lost love and social classes, veteran actor Ralph Fiennes played Onegin for his sister. Liv Tyler rounded out the sibling collaboration as Tatyana, Onegin's lost love. Onegin is a somber costume drama that tells its story with a deliberately slow pace. It's difficult to picture Pushkin's epic poem as anything other than ponderous, although Ralph Fiennes, at a Sept. 18 press conference, found plenty of humor in the film's family collaboration.
"Martha could always sense the anxiety in me," Fiennes said, turning to his red-faced sister. "But she was able to handle that as well as all the other problems. I was always proud that she had the strength to carry this project off. I take my hat and other things off to you."
The only chance to catch one's breath occurs at the final moment of Toronto's annual moviemade 10-day marathon. Awards are handed out at a closing banquet: the Air Canada Peoples Choice award went to the Hollywood drama American Beauty. Special recognition went to The Cup, a film about Bhutan Buddhist monks who are soccer fanatics and the Philippine village tale Yesterday Children. The fest's Discovery Prize was awarded to Goat on Fire and Smiling Fish, while the Brit rave film Human Traffic and the American buddy tale Spring Forward were close runners-ups.
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Ghost Dog
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Looking back at this year's Toronto Fest becomes a 35mm blur.
On some days I watched seven films, briefly separated by mad dashes for interviews and press conferences at nearby hotels. The movie marathons would begin at 8:30 a.m. and often finish some time later with a midnight screening of some European horror film. The heady rush of cinematic images makes for a strange sensation. Although that might have more to do with the daily diet of sugar, caffeine and nicotine. Eating regular food became a logistical nightmare, although it's comical just to imagine the look on an usher's face after smuggling a sub sandwich inside one's pants pocket.
Secluded away in the daylong darkness of festival cinemas, permanently slouched inside a reclining chair, the latest Indian drama Split Wide Open blurs into the movie-within-a-movie documentary, American Movie, until finally melding into the Danish horror movie, Possessed. It's hard to keep everything coherent. Although three Manhattans gulped at a cocktail party before the screening of Jim Jarmusch's gangster/samurai film, Ghost Dog, did wonders for my sanity. Really, those three Manhattans had nothing to do with my positive review, although I'm afraid to think of the reviews I would write if I drank three Manhattans before every screening.
A dance of movie subtitles keeps you awake until the mad festival dance begins again the following day. It's not human to watch so many movies in one single day. If there was ever any truth to the notion that critics have little in common with everyday moviegoing Joes and Josephines, the Toronto Fest confirms the dividing gap.
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julien donkey-boy
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There is nothing geekier than a critic who rushes into a cinema for a 7-film marathon, although what makes the moviemade bubble that's the Toronto International Film Festival appear sensible is the fact that nobody watches these films alone. For 10 days, the outside world ceases to exist within the Yorkville neighborhood that makes up the festival confines. The only news that punctuates the festival bubble is news that affects the festival itself. Hurricane Floyd? Yes, I've been following it. Did you know that Floyd prevented Meryl Streep from flying in to promote her role in the biopic Music of the Heart? At Toronto, everyone grows crazed over the festival and everyone is a movie critic. Despite the fact that being a critic takes some of the fun out of moviegoing.
"For all you critics out there, leave the people alone," Roth yells to the audience. The Brit actor stands onstage in support of Italian director Giuseppe Tornatore's ocean liner fantasy The Legend of 1900. "This film is Sunday afternoon, glass of wine, put your feet up and let it wash over you. Stop thinking like critics. Sometimes it's nice to relax. I did. Very nice."
The excitement backstage at Toronto's elegant Elgin Theatre is evident. Moments earlier, a crowd 1,500-strong rose to its feet over the latest Jane Austen film adaptation, Mansfield Park. It was a welcome homecoming for Canadian filmmaker Patricia Rozema, who put a fresh, lively spin on the Austen genre. But the thunderous applause was primarily for Australian actress Frances O'Connor who stole the film with her starmaking performance as Fanny Price.
Crowds gathered at the stage door entrance behind the theater, hoping for a glimpse of the dark-haired O'Connor. Families waited for autographs. Mothers posed for pictures with their daughters. Here is flesh-and-blood proof of the success of the Toronto Festival: People here get excited about film.
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Mr. Death
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Mansfield Park was one of my favorite movies from this year's festival. Not that I didn't live through the full gamut of moviegoing experiences. There was good Hollywood product: The Cider House Rules and director Wayne Wang's mother/daughter drama, Anywhere But Here, starring Susan Sarandon with a stellar performance by Natalie Portman. American indie fare such as Ghost Dog, the Brandon Teena biopic Boys Don't Cry and Harmony Korine's experimental drama, julien donkey-boy, were stellar. Veteran filmmaker Errol Morris' Mr. Death: The Rise and Fall of Fred A Leuchter Jr. -- about an execution expert and Holocaust revisionist -- was the best fest documentary. There were stellar films from World cinema veterans such as Benoit Jacquot (Keep it Quiet), Abbas Kiarostami (The Wind Will Carry Us) and filmmaking brothers Luc and Jean-Pierre Dardenne (Rosetta).
The fest also had its share of awful films. Bruce Willis stumbled through director Alan Rudolph's adaptation of the Kurt Vonnegut classic Breakfast of Champions, Robin Williams was miscast in the Holocaust drama Jakob the Liar; and the Indian drama Split Wide Open proved to be an empty-handed look at urban poverty.
For every movie I watched there were four more films I wanted to see. It's hard to believe, but there just isn't enough time in 18-hour screening days to see everything you want.
Many of the films will find their way to Cincinnati audiences: Snow Falling on Cedars, Mumford and Ride With the Devil, although many good films were unable to break the festival bubble. Scottish filmmaker Bill Forsyth's charming follow-up to Gregory's Girl, Gregory's Two Girls, left the festival without an American buyer. Sunburn, a lively coming-of-age movie about Irish workers at a Long Island resort community, will probably never be seen outside of festivals.
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By Steve Ramos
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Harmony Korine
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There were few deals. Fine Line features purchased the Canadian drama The Five Senses. The indie comedy Goat on Fire and Smiling Fish is rumored to be close to a deal.
"Getting a deal was not why I came to Toronto," says Spring Forward director Tom Gilroy. "Don't get me wrong. I made this film to be seen by audiences. But my priority is that my leads, Ned Beatty and Liev Schreiber, are proud of the film. That's what's most important to me."
The Toronto Festival offers a safe haven for celebrities looking to tweak their public profile. So Willis tackles subversive comedy for Breakfast of Champions. Horror kingpin Wes Craven unveils his drama Music of the Heart. Supermodel Claudia Schiffer steps in front of a camera for Black and White. Sir Elton John came to town as the producer of the Brit comedy Women Talking Dirty. Joking around at a festival press conference, Willis shares his reasoning behind Breakfast of Champions.
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Onegin
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"Alan Rudolph allowed me the chance to act again when we did Mortal Thoughts," Willis says, slipping his sunglasses off his face. "I try to work a little bit of acting into my career."
It's the army of celebrities that guarantees front page festival coverage in the local dailies. The paparazzi track the celebrity shopping habits. They rate the actresses' wardrobe and cleavage.
It was the filmmakers -- directors Lasse Halström, Jim Jarmusch and Kevin Smith, unveiling his controversial film Dogma -- who kept the focus on the films themselves. Sometimes, at least for the celebrity-starved public, it was a tough thing to do.
It was during the screening of Korine's julien donkey-boy that the true reason behind the festival finally emerged. What other environment would offer the opportunity for an experimental film to be seen by audiences? Inspired by Korine's schizophrenic uncle, julien donkey-boy is an edgy, surreal follow-up to Gummo. Here is a film that places the spotlight on the underbelly of America. For Korine, the artistry behind the making of his movie is all that matters.
"Give the world something," Korine says. "Give them something great, something that will last a lifetime. I don't make art that you have to qualify yourself for."
The festival buzz finally unwinds with a Saturday afternoon screening of the Japanese monster sequel Gamera 3. While the flame-spewing turtle wreaks havoc over Tokyo, a scientist mutters in disgust, "Why is Japan always being invaded by monsters?" More importantly, what is Gamera 3 doing at a festival? I can't imagine a better way to finish the movie madness. After all, even film should never take itself too seriously. ©
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