I had the good fortune to attend the Toronto International Film Festival (http://www.blogger.com/www.tiff08.ca) this past weekend as part of my birthday present (yes, it happened in July, and I'm still celebrating). Positively blog-worthy, because it's an experience I'm not willling to forget. I'd also like to highlight several films that should be watched for vigilantly in the coming year or two; they may arrive as a flash in the pan, but if you need viewing company, please call!
We kicked off the film viewing experience on Friday with Guy Ritchie's glammy, hectic, stunningly loud Rocknrolla. A treat for the first time fester - Ritchie himself introduced the film, a gracious and hospitable artist with cool sneakers. As a sadly Americanized and undertraveled audience member, I clung desperately to the speaking track, which paid off with a passable understanding of the swirling plot. Every other frame was a visual exclamation point making good use of the A-list cast, including Thandie Newton, Gerard Butler, Jeremy Piven and one Chris "Ludacris" Bridges. Tres cool.
We tripped out of Rocknrolla, pretty smug that we'd managed to get the best film of the festival on our dockets, but not ready for the curveballs to come. The afternoon was spent with JCVD, which had come highly recommended. My viewing companion is admittedly a huge supporter of Bloodsport; simultaneously, I felt as though devoting a quarter of my viewing privileges to the Muscles from Brussels might be a little bit of a stretch.
Bloodsport it was not. A let down it was most certainly not. Through heart-wrenching courtroom scenes, an intimate glimpse into family life, and a high-drama post-office robbery, JCVD plays himself in the worst of times. "To what end?" has become a media-friendly topic for debate…career-amping move? Exhibition of aging self as a true actor? Proof that a karate hero can, with a little struggle, live by the dojo? Let me know. And pile a bit more proof on the plate, your friendly blogger cried quite a bit over the 47 year old muscle's improved monologue.
Almost a decade ago, Kristopher "camera guy" Belman of Akron, Ohio, began following the wild success of a group of five junior high school students playing local basketball. The boys, who rapidly became the best of friends bound by the love of the game, shot to unprecedented stardom by win after win despite adversity. Talk about right place/right time…Belman's footage documented the path to greatness forged by LeBron James. The film premiered this weekend at the festival (not a dry eye in the house) under the name More Than a Game. Biggest audience treat? Eloquent, in-person speeches and commentary by a teary James and his film cohorts, who remain brotherly. Standing ovations for all followed by a slam dunk competition down the street. Could it get any better? This snagged my vote for best film.
Fourth and final viewing happened on Sunday at 9:45a. A coffee-infused, hazy, and quiet crowd settled in on the rainy morning for The Burning Plain, an exercise in storytelling scripted by Guillermo Arriaga (best known for screenwriting Alenjandro Gonzalez Inarritu's 21 Grams and Babel). Featuring a haggard-looking Charlize Theron, the film played out like a novel, a masterwork of unpredictable temporal elapse and full, round characters. Story set aside, the wet and grey panoramic views of Portland juxtaposed against the parched towns of the Mexican border periodically found me holding my breath. Add in traditional literary themes of loss of innocence, family dysfunction, isolation and the run from one's self, and we have another winner.
Sidenote: when you head to Toronto, be sure to grab a quick tofu and tempeh infused salad or smoothie at Fresh, or a close-to-comfort food experience at the delectable Swan!
