Trouble man: Cillian Murphy (right, with Ruth Negga and Stephen Rea) as wanted IRA operative/disco sissy Patrick "Kitten" Braden in Neil Jordan's Breakfast on Pluto

"Look at this!" she says, gesturing for me to come over and stand by her. "It's just fucking insane! If I went outside with you and asked you for an autograph, the entire swarm would crowd around us. They'll do anything, this is so weird."

A couple stories below us on Bloor Street, a massive crowd has gathered behind velvet ropes. They stand there in the hot September sun all day, digital cameras and pens at the ready, waiting for - well, what exactly? For a Bentley or an Escalade with tinted windows to drive up, and maybe Julianne Moore or Adrien Brody will step out and then - gasp! - walk into the hotel lobby.

Thing is, if I wanted to, I could tell them where all the heartthrobs are. Johnny Depp, Jake Gyllenhaal, Keanu Reeves, Elijah Wood, Kevin Bacon, Viggo Mortensen, the list goes on and on and on, all are upstairs doing interviews. And hiding from them.

Tilda finally tires of the spectacle below, so we sit down with some sodas at the table and she looks at me with those clear, pale Orlando eyes. "Don't you think... the festival has, I don't know, gone a little funny this year?"

Swinton clearly hasn't been here for a while. It's like this every hour of every day of the festival, and it's both funny strange and funny ha-ha. Hundreds of people who come to "work the festival" - publicists, handlers, producers, actors, movie hacks like me - can be heard to complain about the sheer chaotic stress of it all. But the truth is, it's a lot of fun. Sure, it's a blistering, dehydrated, breakfast-of-choked-down-Doritos at 4 p.m. kind of fun, but with a combination of Pilates breathing, tequila and sheer adrenaline, it's possible to keep the pace for 10 straight days. But that's all. If the TIFF lasted one more day, we'd all probably die.

Contrary to assumptions, though, it's frightfully easy to keep perspective on what really matters in all of this. There is no better place than the cinema - in the cool, anonymous dark with your cellphone turned off - after the chaos of a 10-interview morning wound so tight that you're afraid the reins might snap. Pictures play on the giant screen in front of you, and they have never been so exciting or so worthwhile.

Tilda Swinton's Thumbsucker, for example, is a languorous, emotional take on American suburbia in which her son, played by Lou Pucci, tries to cure himself of that particular bad habit at the age of 18. This morning I saw Sturla Gunnarson's peaty take on the Beowulf story. It's shot in beautiful widescreen Icelandic glory and stars our own Sarah Polley as Beowulf's lusty, hut-dwelling love interest. Last night was Mary Harron's Bettie Page biopic, starring Gretchen Mol as the famous pin-up girl with a twist, and before that was Atom Egoyan's Where the Truth Lies, a hazy glamour-take on Nancy Drew in which Colin Firth and Kevin Bacon deliciously debase Canadian ingénue Rachel Blanchard.

Sunday I stole off to watch an unjunketed Midnight Madness screening of the Irish mad-cow horror flick Isolation, about which much will be said later. Before that, The Proposition, a searing and bloody Australian western written by Nick Cave. That morning, Capote, about the writing of In Cold Blood starring Philip Seymour Hoffman in the title role. Saturday night was a double bill of Tim Burton's Corpse Bride and Niki Caro's North Country, starring Charlize Theron as a female miner who wins a sexual harassment suit in court. Before that, a confession: I crept away from the TIFF grounds to catch a cheapie screening of the Hollywood thriller Red Eye, because I was curious about its star, Cillian Murphy, who also plays a cross-dressing would-be IRA operative in Neil Jordan's Breakfast on Pluto, which I was covering the next day. That morning, I watched the doc The Devil and Daniel Johnston, as well as a couple of Canadian "dramas" that, trust me, need never be mentioned in these pages.

Friday night: The Life and Hard Times of Guy Terrifico, a Canadian honky-tonkumentary about a hard livin' country star, and before that the truly mystifying, Saskatchewan-shot Terry Gilliam creeper Tideland. Ever wondered what working for Miramax does to your brain? Tideland can answer that. In the morning, the Israeli buddy-movie of sorts Paradise Now.

Thursday night, after my train got in, was a double bill: Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang, a big Warner caper starring Val Kilmer and Robert Downey Jr., as well as the Stephen Frears' feel-good picture about tits and the Blitz, Mrs. Henderson Presents.

So there you have it: my TIFF thus far, in reverse. The important questions - how were all these films? what did the stars and filmmakers say about them? - will be answered in these pages in due time. Stay tuned.

Toronto International Film Festival

 
 

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Hollywood Haven     Ahhh, this is where all the stars are hiding. Not that I'm at all surprised. Toronto gets Johnny Depp's The Corpse Bride? They get Viggo Mortensen and Ed Harris' A History of Violence? They get the highly anticipated Domino starring Keira Knightley? And they also get appearances by the beautiful Charlize Theron, Elijah Wood, and Adrien Brody? Doesn't it feel just like Hollywood? Yes, that's probably because Toronto makes it feel as though Hollywood has come to them. Not a bad tactic if I may say so myself. Let's face it, without all the stars, it's possible that Toronto's fest could be just as dull as ours. Sure we always complain how Americanized and Hollywood-obsessed places like Toronto are, but then when we have a lack of a Hollywood feel at our festival, we envy Toronto. Why is that? Maybe because when the international cinema displayed at our festival used to be at one point interesting, the selections have become so dull that we feel like we need big names attached to the films to make them more interesting and draw in a bigger crowd. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying a movie without a great Hollywood actor can't be amazing, because it most definitely can, but when we see all the stars flock to the T-dot, we start to wonder, well, what's wrong with us? Can Toronto not spare a couple of the celebrities? I'm sure they could, if only Montreal would work a little harder at bringing them over. But first Montreal needs to concentrate on bringing back the feel of the fest, and they need to promote it better. As for the Toronto fest, it seems rather exciting, and features tons of movies I've been wanting to see all year. And believe me, I wouldn't have any problem waiting outside behind the velvet ropes to catch a glimpse of Johnny or Julianne. If a city spends lots of money and effort to put together a great event, you can be sure that I'll be there supporting it. And the celebs will help draw in a crowd; not a bad thing! Toronto's earned the hype.
Vanessa Hasid	{48 votes}	September 17th, 2005
Ambiguous Cillian     What a mystery eh? What is Cillian Murphy's sexual orientation anyways? Cuz he sure as heck seems a little too effeminate to be straight! But what do I know, right? With all of these Metrosexuals everywhere we look, I don't think I'd know a straight white dude if he bit my bottom! And even then, I'm not too sure what kind of a message that would send me... N-E-hoo, many of these movies sound interesting. Especially the Irish film - Isolation and that "Corpse Bride"... I can't wait! Does that make me weird? Ah well, like I care. C-ya!
Dawn Manhertz	{18 votes}	September 16th, 2005
Film Review 101/Toronto International Film Festival dispatch     Hey cinephiles, feel that? That energy? That noise? That's what they call genuine buzz at a film festival. That's what a film festival is supposed to have, not some lethargic forced hope that maybe things won't be that bad. Yes, Mr. Losique, that one is aimed straight at you and your crippled little filmfest that once was. <> People, scan the TIFF website and behold the gems to keep your eyes on. I may not like Toronto as a city but at this time of the year I'd give anything to be there.
Pedro Eggers	{29 votes}	September 15th, 2005
Military Invasion of Toronto?     A quick tactical strike at the heart of Toronto's cultural center carried out by highly trained élite Montreal film-buff commandos. Or perhaps just some persistent nagging: "Coooome on Toronto, give us your filmfest! We'll trade you for it! We'll give you the Expos! Oh... wait.... Blast it all to hell!" But seriously, another great looking lineup at the Toronto filmfest this year, unlike, *ahem*, some other filmfests closer to home. So this is one of the rare occasions that I'll swallow my pride and tip my hat in the direction of Toronto... but you better not get used to it cuz hockey season is upon us and I'll be damned if I tip my hat come October 5th! But yeah, the festival looks pretty great, and I've been looking forward to Gilliam's Tideland for quite some time, I mean, Jeff Bridges in a Gilliam film? Sweet frikkin' deal! What else? The cast for Breakfast on Pluto looks pretty amazing, but Neil Jordan's never been the most consistent of directors. Thumbsucker looks really interesting, with an big cast playing some unconventional roles. But my most highly anticipated film has to be Egoyan's Where the Truth Lies, not just because it's Egoyan, and not just because of the highly advertised sex scene, and not just because... wait, where was I? Oh, nevermind. Anyway, all in all, a very interesting lineup indeed. Oh, and "the Irish mad-cow horror flick", alright, you caught my attention there, kudos.
Raymond Lemoine	{23 votes}	September 15th, 2005

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