Having been here all of twice, my general impression of Toronto is that it's always sunny and balmy, and that roughly half of its citizenry strolls around talking pop hermeneutics all day. On my way out of the Ryerson Theater last night, I was walking a few steps behind a couple engaged in an animated conversation when we passed a Quizno's blaring "Sweet Home Alabama." "See?" he said. "That's America. As long as you don't have a conscience, everything's OK."

It struck me as being straight out of a movie, and reminded me that, earlier, I'd overheard a man complain to his friend about a film's whimsical fairy-tale ending. "Anyone who believes that has seen too many movies," said the man. "Or not enough movies," his friend volleyed back. This is not the sort of thing you hear at Sundance, where it's more common to hear cries of, "Dude, I'm at Sundance!" shouted into cell phones. But if it proves one thing beyond a doubt, it's that I eavesdrop like crazy.

This being my second year at the festival (it's the festival's 30th), I more or less know where the theaters are. So it makes it easier to cram as many movies into one day as humanly possible. Occasionally-- though not too often-- this requires adopting a ruthless strategy of cutting your losses five minutes into a not-so-promising film and sneaking out in time to make it to another. There's something about having a press pass and a pocket screening schedule that makes me think of one of those game shows where you're given a huge pile of money to spend at your favorite store, but only an hour to spend it in. A press pass makes it possible to see five or even six movies in one day, but the day's schedule winds up being as determined by dates and times of screenings, theater location and seat availability as it is by personal interest or desire to see a particular movie. This factors some element of chance into the day, which is a good thing. Patterns emerge. Coincidences pile up. Some days scheduled at random wind up feeling amazingly unified thematically. Is chaos theory an apt comparison? In any case, it would be impossible to replicate this experience in the real world, where the same movies might open months apart.

Friday's marathon yielded no actor repeats, but of the five films I saw, three were set in the South (Lars von Trier's "Manderlay," Alabama; Steven Soderbergh's "Bubble," West Virginia; and Cameron Crowe's "Elizabethtown," Kentucky. And two of them prominently featured baked goods. (They couldn't feel more differently about them.) Three dealt with stories of adult children in crisis returning to their dad-place ("Elizabethtown," Adam Rapp's "Winter Passing," and Joshua Michael Stern's "Neverwas"). And two out of the three dads were tormented men of letters beloved by their fans and resented by their children. Both of them (Ed Harris in "Winter Passing" and Nick Nolte in "Neverwas") had disheveled white hair and smoked and drank too much. This is not to suggest that any of these films are at all alike. On the contrary. They couldn't be more different in spirit, approach, method or intent. A small Southern town by a director of another name is definitely not the same small Southern town.

Posted by Carina Chocano at September 10, 2005 11:18 AM

Name:
Email Address:
URL:
Remember Me?	YesNo

 
Comments: