When Alex James was a member of the wildly successful UK group Blur, the worst thing he ever had to worry about was the nasty things members of Oasis might have to say about him and his bandmates to the British press. The possibility of a violent end at the hand of a Colombian drug lord was not so much of a consideration. However,the bassist recently entered the dangerous world of the South American drug trade by hosting a BBC commissioned documentary entitled Alex James: Cocaine Diaries (premiering tonight at 8pm on the Documentary Channel). Himself a former cocaine addict, James experiences first hand how his habit contributed to this devastating local economy.
I haven't seen the doc yet but I'm definitely intrigued. Of course, just getting the opportunity to take a closer look at this underground world is interesting in and of itself. Seeing fey little Alex James with his very English indie-rock boy hair, wearing a flak jacket and surrounded by men with automatic weapons is absolutely, positively must-see TV.
The following clip shows James witnessing the destruction of an illegal coca plantation:
Political correspondent and regular CNN commentator Donna Brazile is not going to the back of bus. I'm not sure who would ever be foolhardy enough to attempt to put her there but I'm guessing they'd only try it once. Here's Anderson Cooper's boo breaking down some of the bullshizz surrounding the 2008 US presidential election.
Donna, girl, I'll follow you without question!
For complete footage of the New Yorker panel discussion "If I Were Running This Campaign" click here.
Hold me back, darling. Some arrogant fool (at FOX TV, surprise) thinks it's a good idea to attempt an American remake of the classic Britcom, Absolutely Fabulous. For those of you not in the know, AbFab centred around two over 40, professional fashionistas named Patsy and Edina who spent their (abnormally abundant) free time shagging, shopping and partaking of copious amounts of recreational substances, all under the disapproving watch of Edina's strait-laced young daughter, Saffron. The only thing that's currently preventing me from flying out to Fox Studios and personally bitch-slapping every executive with the misfortune to cross my path is that original series creator, head writer and star, Jennifer Saunders (she played Edina) will have a hand in developing the new series. Saunders is a British comedy legend, having also created and starred in French & Saunders, Jam & Jerusalem and The Life & Times of Vivian Vyle. I'm sure Saunders will do her utmost to ensure that this new venture doesn't see her comedy legacy going straight down the loo. This isn't the first time that an attempt has been made to translate AbFab humour to this side of the pond. Back in the 90s when Roseanne was still a comedy tour de force in her own right (as opposed to the ranting, barely coherent blogger she has since become), she was looking to develop the series stateside as her own eponymous creation was coming to a close. I don't recall why nothing ever came of it. I think I'd have a little more faith in this remake if it was being done for HBO or the like instead of a major network like FOX. I feel like the desire to make the show palatable to a wider audience might result in a loss of edge from the original series. There was a lot of "snow hoovering" in those early days if you know what I mean. However, NBC did manage turn the US version of The Office into a runaway success. Still, I somehow can't shake the feeling that we might be in store for the equivalent of sewing a Lacroix label into a Juicy Couture track suit.
Well, here it is. I've finally managed put to paper (or computer screen), my much-delayed, overlong, barely coherent thoughts, memories and feelings for TIFF 2008. I think there's some Virgin Festival stuff thrown in as well. Supporting media included where available.
Off we go!
Thursday, September 4
It's the first day of TIFF but I don't actually have any films today. However, it's been a hectic and stressful few weeks at work so, after taking care of some chores during the day, I decide to head out that night to the Vice magazine/CK One Festival Ball. By myself. Yep, that's how I roll. Hey, I can't be expected to hole up at home just because my peeps are busy with prior engagements. I see it as a good excuse to mingle and meet new people.
The socializing proves to be that much easier as I realize, shortly after entering the party, that it's OPEN BAR. Result! OK, so much of the discussion with my new found friends involves comparing the quality of the various beverages but, I guarantee, a good time is being had by all.
The entertainment is pretty sweet as well. New York electro-hipsters The Juan Maclean are given the thankless task of warming up the well-lubricated crowd but manage to acquit themselves quite well. Most of the of the gathered audience are able to tear themselves away from fussing with their perfectly mussed hair and comparing American Apparel leggings to shake their too-cool-for school groove things on the dance floor.
At midnight, the surprise performer (subbed in for Kid Sister, who had to bow out due to a scheduling conflict) turns out to be Toronto duo Crystal Castles. I'm a fan but since this marks the third time this year that I've seen the band, I'm less inclined to be blown away by watching vocalist Alice go through yet another public, 30-minute, mental breakdown.
The festivities pretty much wrap up after that. Upon exiting the venue, partygoers are laden with all the bottles of CK One eau de toilette that they can stuff into their pockets. So, a successful evening all round.
Crystal CastlesCrimewave
Friday, September 5
I have my first film at 2:15. Obviously, I hope all my films are going to be great but I'm always most anxious for the first one because it can set the mood for my entire festival experience. I'm especially anxious since, this year, I was so rushed in making my selections that I can't quite recall the synopses for the films I ended up choosing.
As such, I'm under the impression that A Film With Me In It deals with the trials and tribulations of a struggling Irish actor/screenwriter trying to complete his own script. Not so much. I don't want to give away too much but I think a more accurate description might go as follows: a seriously dark comedy about the true friendship, grasping the opportunities that life (and death) presents you and how to successfully skirt the peril of living in what has to be the worst flat in the entire Western hemisphere. This a film for people who thought the Extras Christmas Special was way too cheerful.
Best line: "Mark, when I went upstairs there were two dead bodies in this flat. How may are there now?
Rating: Bloody brilliant!
My next film, It Might Get Loud, is that night at 9:15. This time, I remember that the Loud is a documentary about the electric guitar and it's influence the lives and careers of musicians Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin), The Edge (U2) and Jack White (The White Stripes, The Raconteurs). What I seem to have forgotten is that all three stars are expected to be in attendance at the premiere and I'm not quite prepared for the level of rock fan hysteria (especially and predictably for page) that pervades throughout the evening.
There is a moment when it finally sinks in. I'm in my seat, waiting for the film to begin and I've just accepted a phone call on my cell from my friend Stephanie (we're trying to finalize our plans for the Virgin Festival that weekend) but, before I can say anything Page, White and The Edge enter the theatre from the side stage door pass by about an arm's length away from me. I hang up on Stephanie.
The film is fantastically entertaining. I'd read some worrisome reviews which claimed that those unfamiliar or uninterested with the subject of electric guitar might find the doc tedious. As someone with absolutely no musical inclination whatsoever, I'd have to refute that claim. I think that one of the great things about this doc was that it had less to with the instrument and more about how it shaped the paths of these three men.
Best moment in the doc: During a jam session involving all three musicians, Page contests The Edge on a chord progression - in a U2 song.
Best moment in the Q&A: The worship of rock royalty is momentarily trumped by the revelation that actress Elizabeth Shue (Adventures in Babysitting, Leaving Las Vegas, Hamlet 2), the wife of Loud director Davis Guggenheim, is among us. Seriously, there was an audible gasp of deference.
Rating: Rock and Roll!
TIFF side note: There's seems to be a little audience joke this year that involves making the "aaaarrrrgggghhh" sound when the anti-piracy warning comes up before the screening of each film. I'm already over it.
Saturday, September 6
Virgin Fest Day 1 (bring on the bullet points)
After a bit of a sidetrip in an attempt to get VIP passes (didn't work out - don't ask), Stephanie and I make good time getting to the Toronto Island Ferry, through security and on to the festival grounds by about 1:45.
We're not really interested in any of the acts currently on stage so we take advantage of the good weather and walk around the market area for a bit. Nothing particularly exciting but we scoop a couple of free velcro-closure bags (these seemed to be the most popular gear at the festival) as well as some complimentary candy. Lots and lots of candy. To date, I still have quite a bit of said candy.
We're mostly killing time until Melissa shows up and Spiritualized are ready to perform. J Spaceman et al on the sidestage in broad daylight is not something I'm fully prepared for but the show is typically brilliant and all doubts are put to rest.
Have brief encounters with Rani, Denise and Mark in the time period spanning the respective sets of Spiritualized and TheFratellis.
SpiritualizedYou Lie You Cheat
Things are already behind schedule so by the time we dash over to the main stage we're only able to catch about 15 minutes of MGMT. Having previously seen the band in a club setting I'm not too bothered but Steph was looking forward to seeing them for the first time and is a bit bummed (though slightly cheered by the fact that we get to witness Time to Pretend live).
Again the tardiness of the schedule becomes an issue as we discover that heading back over to the sidestage to catch Wintersleep will cause us to miss most of Bloc Party. We take the chance and things actually work to our advantage because, um, we're not completely blown away by Wintersleep. Once again we head back over to the main stage for the majority of the BP set. (Lead singer) Kele Okereke and I share a moment over being the only Black people at this year's Virgin Fest. Just kidding (but not really).
Bloc PartyTalons
Steph and Melissa want to hang around for the Foo Fighters headline set but I have no such desire. I head off to get some funnel cake (Holla!) and to see what I can make of The Kooks. The band doesn't really do much for me - they get a lot of praise/attention in the UK press but I register them as nothing more than Random Scruffy British Indie Act. However, they provide decent enough background music to accompany the consumption of my funnel cake so I consider it a win all round.
Actually make it back to the mainstage in time to catch the kick off to the Foos 9pm set. Shouldn't have bothered though - three songs in and I'm bored as hell. It seems as if Dave Grohl and company have just been content to record the same bland jock-rock song over and over again for the past 11 years or so.
I text Steph to let her know I'll wait for her and Melissa (who have moved nearer to the stage) near the ferry gates and admire the Toronto night skyline. After about 10 minutes Steph texts back to say that they're both enjoying themselves and don't mind if I take off. Before I've even finished reading the text I've got my butt on a ferry bench making my way back towards the mainland.
By 10:30 I've made it home, had a hot shower and snuggled into my couch with a cup of tea a bowl of potato chips and large quantities of the aforementioned free candy.
Sunday, September 7
Virgin Fest Day 2: A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall
It is pouring buckets. before meeting up with Stephanie again, I make a mad dash to Canadian Tire to purchase a $10 pair of rubber boots to keep my feet dry but, upon getting them home, I decide that my $20 Marc Jacobs wellies will just as effectively do the job. No, you did not hallucinate anything you read in the previous sentence. I pull on my old, lightweight raincoat (which I dug out after the Rogers Picnic) and head out to brave the elements.
As we reach the island, Spiral Beach are coming to the end of their set but we've arrived just in time to witness the first of what will prove to be a tiresome series of jokes by various performers throughout the day involving the imminent arrival of Noel/Liam Gallagher taking the stage for a jam session.
Again, neither Steph nor I have have a desire to see any particular act at the moment so, after strolling through the market to score some more free candy, we head over to the B-Live Bacardi Dance Tent to try to stay dry. We spend about 30 minutes watching a b-boy crew go through various warm-ups but never quite take the stage for their performance.
By the time we leave the tent, the sky has miraculously cleared and the temperature warmed considerably. We make our way over to the side stage to determine whether Matt Costa is a performer we've previously heard and enjoyed or he's just some wack indie folkie type. Happily, he is the former.
More funnel cake! Woot woot!
For some reason I always think that I don't like the Stereophonics but then I hear their songs again and remember that I do. Most of the crowd is into it as well though everyone near the stage becomes irrevocably distracted when members of Oasis are spotted in the wings.
The Modfather, Paul Weller, is up next and he is absolutely brilliant! I kind of get the feeling that those in attendance who fall to the younger end of the age spectrum don't quite know much about Weller beyond the fact that he influenced Oasis. That being said, they are appropriately respectful and genuinely seem to be enjoying the music.
Oasis hit the stage impressively close to their actual scheduled set time. Despite the fact that I don't own anything by the band after Be Here Now, I'm still a huge fan. For some reason, I'm quite charmed by their whole Irish-Manc machismo vibe (for the record Noel > Liam) and, since I haven't seen them play live in years, I'm totally psyched for the show.
Everything's going along swimmingly until, shortly after the band begin to play Morning Glory, some git manages to charge on stage, shove Noel into his guitar monitor and make a dash for Liam before the crack Vfest security are able to tackle him to the floor. The entire band leaves the stage.
Everyone in my area are stunned at what we've just witnessed and certain that the show is over. However, a message comes over the PA stating the band will return to the stage in about 10 minutes and sure enough, the boys are true to their word. Noel has an obvious hand injury and he's understandably cranky (well, crankier than normal) but he's a trooper and the full set is completed in remarkably tight fashion. Obviously, no encore.
Given the abrubt end to the proceedings, a confused group of about 40 000 attempt to make their way back to the ferry dock at the same time. Steph and I are bracing ourselves for the ridiculously long wait when she sees my friend Duncan walking a few feet from us. Dunc makes his living as a boat captain and by happy coincidence, he happens to be on duty for the VIP ferry that night. He generously offers us covert passage and after a slight and puzzling delay (which, Dunc later tells me had something to do with the police needing access to the dock) we are back on the mainland.
So, that's Virgin Fest done for another year. Don't know if I'll have the stamina to take it on again next year. Yeah, sure I will.
Paul WellerEchoes Round the Sun
OasisThe Shock of the Lightning
Monday, September 8
The day starts off oddly enough when, as I'm getting dressed after breakfast the condo fire alarm goes off. Fortunately, as I'm frantically to get my none-too-pleased cats into their carrier and out the door, a message comes over the security intercom (remind me to tell you at a later date just how creepy it is to have a disembodied voice occupying your living space) saying that it's a false alarm.
I head out at about noon to attend the Dsquared2 meet-and-greet at Holt Renfrew. The Canadian-born, Milan-based design duo had staged a public runway show the night before which featured their fall/winter 2008 collection. Since I was at Vfest I was unable to attend and thought this would be the next best thing.
The D2 boys, identical twins Dean and Dan Caten (who I still can't tell apart), arrive fashionably late but it's impossible to hate on them. They're so adorable and tiny and bristling with energy that I want to take them home with me so I can ruffle their hair (they probably wouldn't appreciate that) and feed them PB&J with the crusts cut off (again, probably a no-go what with all the carbs). Anyway, I meet them, we take a few photos together, I have them sign my promo gear, get a sample of their new perfume and I'm off to my 2:45 film.
Uncertainty explores two separate narratives based around the decision of a young couple on the 4th of July. In one scenario, the two decide to visit her family in Brooklyn while the other story shows them blowing off the familial obligation to party it up in Manhattan. I don't want to give too much away but, suffice to say, at the end of the 24-hours in each story, our protagonists come away much changed for their experiences.
When I first read the synopsis for this film I had my reservations. I was worried that, handled ineptly, the story could wind up as a bad, low-budget choose your own adventure flick. Honestly, if the film hadn't starred former child star turned crazy-hot, indie-film poster boy Joseph Gordon-Levitt, I probably wouldn't have bothered. Please try not to judge me.
Fortunately, the film is fantastic. The cuts back-and-forth between each scenario have a natural flow so you always know where you are within the respective narratives and it never feels like you've lost any pertinent information from either story. More impressive, though each scenario explores a different film genre - one is a suspense-thriller, the other a quiet, family drama - the level of tension remains constant throughout the entire movie. I don't think I'll ever look at empanadas the same way again. And though this can't be classified as a "message film", I did spend a few days afterward contemplating various ideas it had put forth which, to me, is always a good sign.
OK, so, not to go on too much about it, something pretty cool happened after the film and here it is:
I met Joseph Gordon-Levitt!
He was very sweet and patient, signing autographs and taking pictures with everyone who asked. As he was signing for me, I said to him "I'm just going to take a picture while you're signing." and he said "Don't you want to be in the picture too?" I hesitated because I was tired and bunged up from being at VFest all weekend and didn't really feel "photo ready" but he said "Aw, come on, yes you do!" Le sigh.
Best moment: I think you can guess.
Rating: Thoughtfully thrilling.
My next film, at 9:15 that night, is called Lymelife. First of all, I want to say I really did like this movie. I feel I need to mention that right off the top in order to deflect somewhat from the amount of complaining I'm going to do about it. This film really felt like a half-assed version of The Ice Storm. It had that same vibe of a 70s, secret-and-lies filled, middle-class family drama without a lot of the much-needed edge.
Thankfully, there were a lot of great performances to help elevate the film beyond being average. Rory and Kieran Culkin did their surname proud by producing two amazing performances. I wish that Kieran's part had been bigger in order to capitalize on the real-life brothers' natural chemistry. Timothy Hutton and Alec Baldwin (who was in town to do press but didn't make the screening - I cried a little) were also great to watch. Unfortunately, aside from Jill Hennessy, the females in the film don't fare as well - though they make a valiant effort, their parts seem written as one dimensional caricatures rather than fully fleshed out in their own right. I will say that Emma Roberts continues the tradition perfected by her acting family (including father Eric and aunt Julia) for boring the crap out of me. Someone like Olivia Thirlby (Juno, Uncertainty) probably could have brought a bit more to that role.
Then there's the ending. You pretty much know where this thing's headed about 5 minutes in so the decision to throw out an obvious red herring and delay the inevitable is, frankly, baffling. All that seemed to be accomplished was to kill the built up tension.
Rating: B-
Tuesday, September 9
On my way to see my next film, I pass Cheech & Chong walking down Yonge St. Doesn't really have anything to do with anything, I just thought I'd share.
Synecdoche, New York marks the directorial debut of screenwriter Charlie Kaufman (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Being John Malkovich). I'm not even going to make an attempt at explaining the plot of this one so that we can all avoid the mutual brain cramps. Suffice to say, if you like Kaufman's previous work, you'll probably like this film too.
Sidenote: Some TV exec needs to give Kaufman a(n open-ended) commitment to a weekly network series. Hey, David Lynch got to do it.
Best moment: During the Q&A, when an audience member asks Kaufman to discuss a particularly mind-bending aspect of the film - and he flat-out refuses.
Catherine Deneuve was, is and always shall be the HBIC.
French people always have the uncanny ability to look incredibly chic, whether it's during a serious medical exam, making afternoon tea, doing a drunken face-plant onto a busy street or writing a letter.
With apologies to my future baby-daddy, I will be naming my two sons Basile and Baptiste after the ridiculously adorable cherubs, charmingly melodramatic in this film. I'm serious - I'll adopt or employ any and all means of fertility procedure in order to make this dream a reality.
French people are obsessed with Angela Bassett and, more specifically, her badonkadonk.
Apparently, it is A-OK for a man's wife to sleep with the cousin that he originally won/bargained/lured her from. So fine, that said man and his children can make breakfast in bed for the wife and cousin and the only thing the man will do in recognition of the liason is to shrug resignedly while serving the breakfast.
When in doubt, give a shout out to Shakespeare. This is the second film ( the first being Uncertainty) that I've seen this week which employ the work of the Bard. Oddly, both films sample the same work - A Midsummer Night's Dream.
Family drama (especially around the holidays) is a sonofabitch. Potentially fatal disease is a cakewalk in comparison.
Rating: Ah, oui!
My next film, Medicine for Melancholy, is the sort that makes you feel as if it was made specifically for you yet you think everyone you know will relate to it and, therefore, must see it. The story revolves around two young, black indie kids who spend 24-hours together following a drunken hook-up at a party. They both have various and often conflicting issues with race and they spend their brief time together sharing, arguing, bonding and trying to come to terms with their individual self-identities.
The film is beautifully shot, the soundtrack is gorgeous and the dialogue is impressively un-cliched. Much credit to the two leads Tracy Heggins and Wyatt Cenac for pulling off two note-perfect performances. I was especially, pleasantly surprised by Cenac who's is probably best known as the newest correspondant on The Daily Show (though he didn't show up for the screening - more crying on my part). He easily could have coasted on his smart-ass persona but he wisely chose to delve into the vulnerability of his character.
With all this character study going on, the film also manages to incorporate a discussion of the gentrification of lower-middle class neighbourhoods of the San Francisco area without missing a beat.
Rating: I left my heart in...
Thursday, September 11
Damn you, Sir Michael Caine, you screwed me again!
My first year attending TIFF was the same year that The Cider House Rules premiered. I was able to get a ticket for the gala screening but, though I wasn't necessarily there to celebrity-watch, was slightly disappointed that Caine was not in attendance along with his young co-stars Charlize Theron and Tobey Maguire. However, I loved the film which, of course, went on to great critical acclaim and garnered Caine an Oscar.
More than 10 years later, I was excited to get the chance to be in the presence of the legendary actor at the screening of his latest film Is There Anybody There?
No such luck. Though he was at a previous screening he doesn't make it to this one (again, more tears). We don't even get an appearance from the director.
Ah well, at least the film is good. Actuallly, Is There Anybody There? turns out to be a wonderfully melancholy story revolving around the relationship of a death-obsessed boy and an aging magician longing for his glory days. Despite the rather heavy subject matter, the film never becomes completely bleak, instead opting to reveal the light of joy in the darkness. No Pollyanna crap though.
Best moment: The fact that this marks my second visit to the magical Winter Garden Theatre which almost makes up for the fact that the Elgin (which is occupies the lower floor in the same building) was relegated to premium screenings for this go round of TIFF.
