TIFF 2024: Day Four
And then it ends ... in-person at least.
Time to head back to Buffalo. It’s crazy. Saturday morning hit with the prospect of two and a half more days of festival excitement. Sunday morning hit with the reality that we’re leaving tomorrow. And now Monday has arrived.
Another worthwhile trip, though. No real clunkers. But no real masterpieces either. That’s the territory when you leave off all the big-name tickets to test the waters of Platform and Discovery while sticking to three a day instead of four so I can stay masked up for the duration. Saw a lot of really good international movies that will hopefully find their way stateside and I’ll be able to catch-up to the likes of THE BRUTALIST and THE ROOM NEXT DOOR later in the year.
My only regret: Not buying a program book on Saturday since they were all sold out by Sunday afternoon. Oh well. Maybe I’ll be able to find one on eBay.
Two more films to go today. Fingers crossed one of them wows me so I can leave Toronto with a potential Top Ten candidate.
REVIEWS:
ALL OF YOU
(World Premiere - September 7th - UK - English)
When we meet Simon (Brett Goldstein) and Laura (Imogen Poots), they’re on their way to the testing center to find out who her soulmate is. He’s joking that she’s making a mistake because letting science dictate who you should marry is akin to giving up on life’s mystery and adventure. She finds comfort in it, though. Not because she wants to take herself out of the equation, but because she finds marriage serves a purpose wherein security matters most and isn’t something we should leave to fate. Fast-forward a few weeks or months and Laura is on the road to engagement with Lukas (Steven Cree) while Simon is still left searching.
Goldstein and director William Bridges have been working on the script for ALL OF YOU for the past fifteen years after meeting on the set of a different romance and coming up with the sci-fi concept herein. I therefore wonder what they thought about FINGERNAILS when it was released last year since it has a very similar construct. The difference is that it concerns a woman who questions the result of her true love test and how that uncertainty eats away at her relationship while perhaps overstepping her boundaries outside of it. This one is about the consequences of regret—not in the test, but in waiting too long to declare one’s love.
Because Simon and Laura are in love. Whether they’ll admit it to each other or themselves, they possess a chemistry that has us believing they won’t drift apart like so many of their friends did upon taking the test, getting hitched, and leaving to fulfill the capitalistic duties of said union. Who’s to say it isn’t Laura deciding to follow the herd that finally allows them to open their eyes to the possibility? Maybe their friendship needed that barrier towards romantic love to give their yearning life. Either way, the “soulmate” thing is merely a catalyst for what follows. A crutch Laura can wield to prevent herself from throwing what she has with Lukas away.
We want her to, though, because Bridges and Goldstein created a textbook friends-to-lovers scenario wherein we demand satisfaction in the form of true love conquering all. Except they’ve also transformed “true love” into the largest obstacle in their way, forcing us to reconsider what it is we want from this archetype. Is it just lust? That sexually charged longing of never having the courage to find out and/or the forbidden desire inherent to wanting it despite one or both being attached to someone else? Maybe. We self-insert and imagine some hypothetical “what if” in our own lives that we can’t ever know would have worked anyway. It’s a fantasy that excels in the unknown.
Strip chance from the equation and it loses its excitement. That’s what Simon means when he tells Laura she’s making a mistake. Not because he doesn’t think it will work, but because she’s making it so it can’t fail. She’s introducing chicken and egg scenarios wherein she’ll never know for sure if she loves Lukas because their connection is real or because her brain refuses to consider the implications of the lab tech being wrong. We conversely know her connection with Simon is genuine. Enough to pivot from the cool ease of friendship into the messiness of romance? That’s why they call it “taking the plunge.” Intellectualizing gets you nowhere. Make your move.
The sad truth is that many don’t. They have “the one that got away” instead. Even some who have “the one they adore” still have someone who could have fit that role too if things were different. That’s the strength of what ALL OF YOU provides. Not just a reason to push Simon and Laura together so they must sink or swim, but also a reason to ensure they’ll always be too late. Because no matter how much they do love each other and how much they’ll risk everything to be together, Simon wouldn’t simply be asking Laura to get a divorce. Divorce is what happens when a human chooses poorly. Science, on the other hand, doesn’t make mistakes.
I love the ideas that Bridges and Goldstein have packed into this script and I enjoy the structure of letting decades pass without clearly defining the specific chunks of time that transpired between jump cuts. I love the two central performances (Goldstein has never been better and Poots maintains her place as one of the most underrated actors of her generation) as well as the supporting roles from Cree and Zawe Ashton as Andrea, a friend Laura sets Simon up with. I even applaud the honesty in how these characters revolt against reason and/or emotion depending on what will destroy them more. Sometimes we must accept the thing we want most isn’t meant to be.
All that said, however, something about the finished piece just didn’t fully gel for me. FINGERNAILS has bigger issues, but this one still doesn’t quite stick the landing—maybe because the concept itself is flawed or because I’m too much of a romantic to be able to consider why someone would actually want to take that test. In the end, we got where we always knew we were going. For all the promise of a new spin via its sci-fi trappings, ALL OF YOU is ultimately a familiar story told familiarly with a fresh coat of paint. It’s a well-made and effective facsimile, but I wonder if it missed its potential to say more.
- 6/10
BELOVED TROPIC
[Querido Trópico]
(World Premiere - September 8th - Panama/Colombia - Spanish)
It begins as a story about an immigrant woman seeking assistance to get her paperwork in order with the government. Born in Colombia, Ana María (Jenny Navarrete) has been living in Panama for three years now. She left home when her mother died and has continued to care for ailing women at an assisted living facility ever since. Desperate for the security that a visa would provide and the money inherent to a full-time gig considering she’s also five-months pregnant, Ana María jumps at the chance to work for a local businesswoman falling prey to dementia (Paulina García’s Mechi). Her new patient’s economic status and political connections (via her daughter, Juliette Roy’s Jimena, who now runs the company) might just be the answer to all her troubles.
BELOVED TROPIC isn’t simply about an exchange of services, though. Documentarian Ana Endara Mislov and co-writer Pilar Moreno ensure that we realize right from the start that Ana María truly cares about this line of work. The character is soft-spoken and attentive. When many would receive the message that their boss wants to see them and selfishly get right up so as not to keep them waiting, she stays put to finish painting the nails of the woman currently in her care. We assume this empathetic nature is a product of doing the same job for someone she loved, but it’s also about understanding the importance of human dignity during circumstances that can quickly cause others to forget it.
So, when the once independent and powerful Mechi takes the news that she’s been given a babysitter poorly, Ana María doesn’t hold it against her. Change isn’t something we accept easily—especially when we know in the back of our minds that it’s necessary and out of our control. Ana María therefore bides her time. She sits in the background (epitomized with great humor during a tea date with three friends wherein one of the guests asks Mechi who the “new girl” is right before the camera cuts to her staring at them from a bench close by) so that she can be ready for whatever might be needed. Whether Mechi forgets her name or neglects to even learn it, Ana María will do her job.
We’re talking about the type of unyielding patience and purpose reserved for a parent. In many ways, Mechi’s deteriorating mental and physical state demands a return to needing a maternal presence as much as a friend considering she’s all alone in this big house now. It isn’t therefore lost on us when everyone asks Ana María if she has other kids. They presume her growing belly isn’t her first and interpret her diligence as a caretaker to be evidence of it. Between their Latin American culture allowing people to boldly proclaim motherless women are being justifiably punished by God and the ease at which grown children turn their attention away from their parents’ wellbeing and onto their children, Ana María and Mechi are two pariahs in a pod.
Maybe that’s why their relationship grows so strong despite its tenuous beginnings. Mechi is everything Ana María has missed since her mother’s passing—someone to give her all to before the baby takes over that role. And Ana María is everything Mechi needs (even if she’s yet to admit as much) since her sons refuse to believe there’s a problem and her daughter has only now accepted one exists. That’s not to say Jimena is a bad person. She simply cannot be expected to watch her mother 24/7 as she would a newborn baby. It doesn’t mean Ana María is replacing her either. Maybe she starts to become the person Mechi gravitates towards first, but we see the love in her eyes every time Jimena appears.
The drama inherent to Mechi’s decline is enough to make BELOVED TROPIC worthwhile as a solid and affecting fiction narrative debut for Endara, but it’s the universality of its sense of love and loss that allows it to be more. I don’t want to ruin a plot point, but there’s more than meets the eye here as far as mother-to-baby opposite caretaker-to-adult is concerned. Beyond those superficial connections lies the underlying themes of womanhood and compassion and the ways in which society pushes impossible constraints upon them. Ana María is no less of a woman for not yet having a child than the younger soon-to-be mothers she runs into at ultrasounds and in the market. And Mechi is no less of a human being for needing help.
Because the secret at the back of the film isn’t a damning one. Ana María isn’t committing a crime and her lie isn’t intentionally being told for personal gain (even if it might be helpful towards those means, nonetheless). It’s no more damaging than the one Mechi tells herself when she says she’s okay so as not to fully confront her confusion and embarrassment. These are two women that the world would rather pretend don’t exist than to actually do the work to give them the respect they deserve. It only makes sense that they ultimately end up being the ones to see each other and provide that respect themselves. Both Navarrete and García are wonderful—nuanced, heartbreaking, and inspiring in equal measure.
It’s only together that Mechi can reclaim the dignity to hold her head high at the end of her life regardless of the pity given and kid gloves used by those around her. The same is true for Ana María to find it in herself to live life without the noise saying she’s “less than.” Watching them smile and laugh in the rain or quietly smile with understanding in the aftermath of a tough day is to champion what it means to be human. Strip away their finances, immigration statuses, and internalized cultural indoctrination and you find two people unencumbered by anything besides the pure joy of companionship. BELOVED TROPIC would make a great double feature with THE INTOUCHABLES as a result.
- 7/10
REALLY HAPPY SOMEDAY
(World Premiere - September 8th - Canada - English)
It’s time for Z (Breton Lalama) to rebuild the staircase. That’s the metaphor he uses with his new vocal coach (Ali Garrison’s Shelly) to explain the fear and sense of uncertainty he has with his changing voice. Before taking testosterone, it was the one constant he could count on. People still talk about his performance as Éponine in Les Misérables and the aspiration to jump from Toronto to Broadway was always in the realm of possibility. But now Z is lost. Even changing the octave to sing “On My Own” can’t prevent his voice from cracking during an audition. With confidence shot, he wonders if he made a mistake. The hormone saved his life, but now it feels like it’s also destroying his dream.
Where so many trans stories find themselves focusing on the relationship and familial aspects of acceptance to allow a character to simply exist, J Stevens’ REALLY HAPPY SOMEDAY (co-written with Lalama) uses Z’s identity as a springboard towards a universal narrative about reinvention. Yes, it’s very much a trans story considering the reinvention at-hand is a result of testosterone treatment, but it’s also a human story that happens to feature a trans character. This distinction isn’t trivial either since it means that we can appreciate Z as a person first. By normalizing his existence, we can turn our attention to his struggle for purpose. Bigotry never enters the equation. Z’s search is about belief.
And not just in his capacity to sing in a new register with the same talent and resonance as before, but also in love. We see it often: a person letting shame prevent them from telling their partner bad news as a means of hiding the fact their silence might be about trust instead. Because Z and Danielle (Khadijah Roberts-Abdullah) had a plan. He would get his shot on Broadway and she would apply for a visa to join him in New York. But while that stage is his goal, it’s not a necessity. Not enough to erase his work towards renewed happiness via Shelly’s help. So, just like he’s held onto “On My Own” for too long, what else must he leave behind?
The result is as much an ending to present as it is an entrance into the future. It’s not without its second-guessing and frustrations, though. Should Z move to New York anyway once Danielle decides to go? Will vocal lessons be enough to solidify his voice in pursuit of a musical theater career or should he resign himself to being a bartender forever? Things get so dire that the option to stop testosterone treatments even rears its head. How could it not when it’s probably the simplest solution despite also being the one he’d regret most? The only way forward is therefore to strip away all excess and build himself back up. That’s when you discover what truly matters most.
Enter new friendships (Xavier Lopez’s Santi). Lovers (Katharine King So’s Sage). Songs (“Favorite Places”). Add the sense of freedom that comes from being single and devoted to oneself and Z finds the room to want things again instead of merely resenting that which he can no longer have. It’s about baby steps. Moving away from the path he was on to repave the one he needs. Gain confidence from fun. Relinquish the impossible expectations he places upon his own shoulders. And realize that he’s literally a different person now. Just like his body must change, so too must his dreams. Maybe not the endgame, but definitely the journey. Starting over isn’t the worst thing if it reminds you why you started in the first place.
Lalama delivers a fantastic performance in the lead role—really expressing the inner conflict that exposes how comfort and joy aren’t the same. It helps when the chemistry with supporting characters is this good as both Garrison and Lopez provide the perfect amount of respect and championing to push Z back on-track. I love the juxtaposition between Roberts-Abdullah and King So too. By utilizing a crossword puzzle as a mirroring device, we recognize just how far apart process and intent can be. How quick we are to pretend as a means to grow closer without acknowledging that doing so can take us further from ourselves. As long as you put yourself first, you can ensure everything that follows will enhance rather than suppress.
- 7/10
SKETCH
(World Premiere - September 7th - USA - English)
Would you rather your daughter draw an admittedly dark picture of a monster stabbing a classmate hard in the stomach or actually do the stabbing herself? It’s not really a question, right? And yet the notion that kids need creative outlets to vent their frustrations and rage is way too new a concept. So new that I still assumed Amber (Bianca Belle) was going to get in trouble with the school and her father (Tony Hale’s Taylor) after the target of her ire (Kalon Cox’s Bowman) tattles. To instead have the guidance counselor defend her actions and provide a notebook in which Amber can exorcize her demons in privacy proves quite profound. It’s high tide we finally let our children feel again.
Writer/director Seth Worley’s SKETCH is a breath of fresh air in this way because it’s always providing its kids the benefit of the doubt and its adults room to rethink their otherwise punishment-based impulses. Just because taking away Amber’s imagination leaves her with only literal violence doesn’t mean you ignore what’s happening, though. You monitor her pain and supply an avenue towards safe communication to try and work through it together. Unless, as is the case with Taylor, you’re also reeling from the same tragedy. It isn’t therefore Amber’s suffering that he’s ignoring as much as it is his own. That’s why he’s removed all of his late wife’s photos and put their house up for sale.
So, when Jack (Kue Lawrence) stumbles across a pond that inexplicably “fixes” whatever he submerges in its water (his cracked phone and cut hands), he believes he might just be able to play the hero for both his sister and dad. He tests it out first, of course. Still on inanimate objects, but enough to give him the confidence that bringing his mother back is possible. (Un)fortunately for everyone involved, Jack is waylaid in his attempt by Amber’s curiosity. She follows him to the pond, almost falls in, and drops her notebook with all its insanely inventive yet nightmarish creations. So, more than just “fixing” things, it’s soon revealed this pond can also bestow physical form to Amber’s ideas.
It’s a wild conceit that works because of the trust Worley gives to his characters. Strip away the impossible and you still get to the heart of a message wherein the person everyone thinks needs help (Amber) is conversely the one person who doesn’t. Because where she’s manifesting her feelings through art, Taylor and Jack are repressing them via that old toxically masculine chestnut of one simply “getting over it.” That’s the foundation upon which a giant glittery blue monster named Dave and tiny red thieving Eye-ders can accelerate the need for introspective self-reflection. You can patiently avoid the truth by telling yourself Amber will be okay someday, but you must escape death-dealing monsters now.
The synopsis isn’t lying when it compares SKETCH to family favorites like JUMANJI and GREMLINS. This adventure through the emotions of grief is very much in that vein both in its imaginatively dark fantasy world-building and its heartfelt empathy between unlikely companions banding together to achieve a common goal. I’m not only talking about Amber and Jack resigning themselves to bringing Bowman into the fold despite him only wanting to fabricate a big gun with smaller ones attached from the pond. It’s also about Taylor finally opening up to his real estate agent sister’s (D’Arcy Carden’s Liz) obvious worry that he’s moving way too fast when it comes to his desire for normalcy in abnormal times.
There’s big HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS energy too as the perspective shifts between the trio of tweens and adult duo. The former are thrust into a life or death scenario stripping away the desire to maintain some false need for childhood innocence while the latter are desperate to find them, protect them, and learn how to stop letting things get so bad that they’d accidentally trigger an apocalyptic event of crayon wax and chalk dust. And rather than cheat by allowing the “responsible” party to save the day, Worley recognizes that a parent’s job is support. Taylor has his own quest of self-discovery and self-correction. Children are a resilient enough bunch to figure things out on their own.
It won’t be a walk in the park, though. Not with monsters driven by the rage of a young girl screaming so she won’t drown in her debilitating sorrow. That these beasts retain the attributes of their artistic medium (as well as the shortcomings) proves a wonderful flourish to feed into the aesthetic and Belle, Lawrence, and Cox’s infectious sense of humor. Their line readings and comic timing is impeccable, the sarcasm and courage to take up the fight to conquer these feelings instead of merely trapping them a joy to witness. Because once you can find a way to defeat your own demons, there’s nothing in this world you cannot overcome.
- 8/10
UNDER THE VOLCANO
[Pod wulkanem]
(World Premiere - September 8th - Poland - Ukrainian/English/Others)
“Kocur has given form to the purgatory of survival in times of horror. [Wielding] this family in ways that enhance the inherent drama of being angry without an outlet by having them say and act outside of the filter society constructs to keep the peace.”
– Full thoughts at The Film Stage.
TODAY’S SCHEDULE:
RELAY, d. David Mackenzie
THE ASSESSMENT, d. Fleur Fortuné