A Word from the Man Behind the Curtain

Back in January, 2011 was looking to be a very good year indeed. I had just finished compiling the votes for the inaugural CAST Awards and was pleased with the level of participation.

In March, I was flattered to be included on a panel on online film criticism among such exalted company as longtime film critics Adam Nayman and Jason Anderson and filmmaker Margaux Williamson. You can listen to us bat the subject around for almost two hours, if you like.

Duration: 1:46:47
Download MP3 (128MB)

In May, I was contacted to talk about Toronto Screen Shots for a blogging conference and the result is the video you can see above.

My confidence was rising, which helped because, also in May, I quit a very lucrative job. It was the first time I’d ever left a job with nothing else lined up already. Maybe I thought the film business was waiting to welcome me with open arms.

It wasn’t.

In the midst of a very tough job search, I was at least fortunate enough to be able to attend a number of press screenings, and enjoyed the deepening camaraderie with a number of colleagues, people writing about film on both a paid and unpaid basis. It was at this point when I probably should have hustled a bit more.

Blowing My Own Horn

Personal aside: I’ve never been particularly good at “tooting my own horn.” I suppose this could be partially responsible for my zig-zagging career trajectory. I’ve been happy to be a jack-of-all-trades generalist in the belief that it makes me a more “interesting” person. So while I believe I’m pretty good at most everything I try, I’m not confident enough to scream, “hey, look at me! I’m awesome!”

I began to notice a few of my blogging friends picking up paid writing gigs, and privately I was a bit envious. But instead of asking them how they did it, I continued to sit back and wait for others to come to me. When they didn’t, I reasoned that maybe I just wasn’t good enough, or that I really didn’t want it enough.

I do think both those things are true, by the way. Not that that can’t change.

The web is a wonderful thing, and I’ve been fortunate to have been riding the wave of internet publishing (“blogging”) since pretty close to the beginning. But I’ve increasingly felt out of sorts with the way the Internet has enabled the most obsessive among us to succeed. Remember, I’m a generalist. Even among some of my dearest film blogger friends, many of whom are a generation younger than me, I feel at once less serious about film and yet more connected to the rest of the world. I feel inferior and superior at the same time.

So I began trying to figure out what I wanted Toronto Screen Shots to be. I knew from the very beginning that I didn’t want it to be a “movie news” site, trying to break stories about the casting or budget of the latest blockbusters. I prefer to focus on reviews. But even keeping up with the new releases each year, whether theatrically or on DVD, has become next to impossible for me.

Media Firehose

It could be simply my age catching up to me, or maybe the pace of life really has accelerated, but I find myself unable to keep drinking from the firehose of media, especially when so many other outlets are doing a fine job of it already.

My aims for beginning this site were pretty straightforward: I wanted to become a more knowledgeable cinephile, and a better writer about film. I also wanted to share films that needed more exposure with an audience, however big or small. I’ve tried to write more about documentaries, or foreign films, or films that are not new.

I think I’ve gotten away from that over the past year or two, as the profile of film blogs has allowed more of us access to press screenings and DVD review copies. As the industry’s need to keep feeding us new product to sell overwhelmed my own need to deepen my appreciation for film, I think Toronto Screen Shots lost its way a little bit.

Another problem is that smaller film festivals which used to realize a huge benefit from online coverage (Toronto After Dark, Reel Asian, Cinefranco, European Union Film Festival) no longer really depend on me the way I used to think they did. Out of loyalty, I have kept trying to cover them, and this year in particular, I feel that I failed.

Back in the summer when I was riding high, I applied for TIFF accreditation for the very first time. When that didn’t come through (along with my rejection for membership in the OFCS, received around the same time), my confidence took a hit, but in hindsight, I’m glad I wasn’t thrown into that maelstrom. It’s clear to me that I need to slow down, to cut back, to reflect more.

The online environment has room for all kinds of writing. I’m disappointed that perceptions of film blogging seem so tilted toward blockbusters, toward discussions of box office numbers, toward only the newest films. That kind of coverage will be as disposable online as it is in print.

Writer's Block

So I hope you’ll bear with me as I try to realign Toronto Screen Shots with what my original goals were back in 2007. I hope that freeing myself from the “firehose” will break the crippling writer’s block I’ve been feeling for the past few months.

Maybe when I get my (modest) mojo back, I’ll actually start asking if anybody out there wants me to write for them. Stay tuned.

Note: I tried to find information about the images used in this post but was unable to. If you are the copyright owner, please contact me should you want the images removed or proper credits attached.

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Waiting for the End of the World: Lars von Trier Retrospective at TIFF Bell Lightbox

Years before he was persona non grata at the Cannes Film Festival, I discovered the films of Danish “bad boy” Lars von Trier at the old Cinematheque Ontario. So it’s fitting that the folks behind the Cinematheque are bringing a mini-retrospective of his work to their new digs at the TIFF Bell Lightbox. Beginning tonight and running through November 19, six of von Trier’s earlier films will be shown as a sort of appetizer for his latest, Melancholia, which opens on Friday November 18.

Melancholia (2011)
Still from Melancholia (2011)

Though I’m disappointed with the omissions, both obvious (no Antichrist?) and not-so-obvious (The Kingdom would have been perfect running over a few nights, and Epidemic seems not to be shown much), I’m most excited to revisit the (literally) dark early films that were my introduction to his work. The Element of Crime (1984) is a sort of police procedural, with a protagonist who practically goes mad trying to track down a serial killer in a post-apocalyptic and dreamlike environment that just might be the inside of his own head. And Europa (1991), the very first of von Trier’s films I saw, which follows a naive young American working as a porter on a very strange train in post-World War 2 Germany. Both films are dripping with style, evocative images, and dark, dreamlike plots.

The Element of Crime (1984)
Still from The Element of Crime (1984)

I’d also like to finally see The Idiots and Dogville, both of which seemed reliably provocative when I saw clips during Adam Nayman‘s excellent class earlier this year at the Jewish Canadian Cultural Centre.

Europa (1991)
Still from Europa (1991)

Here are the details for the schedule. Don’t forget that in addition to the retrospective, you can see Melancholia beginning Friday November 18.

  • Breaking the Waves (1996) – Wednesday November 9, 6:30pm
  • The Element of Crime (1984) – Friday November 11, 6:30pm
  • Europa (1991) – Saturday November 12, 8:00pm and Thursday November 17, 9:15pm
  • Dogville (2003) – Wednesday November 16, 6:30pm
  • Dancer in the Dark (2000) – Friday November 18, 6:00pm
  • The Idiots (1998) – Saturday November 19, 8:00pm

As always, tickets are available online.

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Toronto Reel Asian International Film Festival 2011

Celebrating its 15th year, Reel Asian returns this year to both Toronto (November 8-13) and Richmond Hill (November 18-19) with a strong lineup of cinema from East and Southeast Asia. Here are a few highlights I’m looking forward to:

Piercing 1

Saturday November 12 at 10:30pmPiercing 1 – An animated film which very pointedly criticizes the growing wealth gap and political system in China. This sharp satirical film was able to slip past the censors because they assumed that anything animated must be for children. Ha!

Resident Aliens

Thursday November 10 at 3:00pmResident Aliens – A documentary about three Cambodian-Americans who are deported to Cambodia as a result of their criminal records, despite the fact that they were brought to America as infants or young children. Sounds like an interesting take on assimilation, criminal justice and (re)discovering your heritage.

There are several more films which I’m hoping to catch, including some of the shorts programmes, which are often home to some of the festival’s hidden treasures. This year, I’m hoping to see A Drummer’s Passion, which explores the life of the Korean drummer Kwon Soon Keun, made (in)famous by a YouTube clip of his intense performance. Now 70 and living in Toronto, I’m sure he has a lot of stories to tell.

Tickets and passes are on sale now, so I hope you’ll check out some of the films, either in the 416 or the 905.

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Deep End

Deep End
BFI Flipside released Deep End in a combo DVD/Blu-ray package in the UK on July 18, 2011. The region-free package is available from Amazon.co.uk.

Deep End (Director: Jerzy Skolimowski): Somewhat condemned to arthouse obscurity after its 1970 release, Skolimowski’s first film in English (prior to this he was best-known as the co-writer, with Roman Polanski, of Knife in the Water) is a fascinating time capsule of a period between the hope and energy of the 1960s and the rather more dark decade to come. A stylish exercise from a director who has at various times in his life worked as a poet and painter, its narrative of adolescent obsession ends up being far more visually impressive than psychologically convincing.

Fifteen-year-old Mike (John Moulder-Brown) drops out of school and takes a job as an attendant at a slightly seedy public bathhouse in London. Almost immediately he is smitten by his spunky and streetwise colleague. Flame-haired Susan (Jane Asher) is in her early 20s and engaged, but not in any particular hurry to get to the altar. In fact, she’s carrying on an affair with one of Mike’s former teachers, a married man who gropes and manhandles his female students at will.

Mike is immediately jealous of both of the other men, and carries out childish acts of sabotage when he’s not stomping off in a sulk. Susan’s behaviour doesn’t help, since her flirtation often has a cruel edge. She seems to enjoy drawing him close and then pushing him away. Meanwhile, at the baths, she instructs Mike to accept tips from the female customers for any “extra services” he can provide. We’re never quite sure that she isn’t doing the same for the men, and when, during a surreal night in Soho, Mike seems to learn that his crush might also be working as a stripper, it pushes him closer and closer to the edge of acceptable behaviour. It’s a line that we know is definitely going to be crossed by the end.

BFI’s restoration of the film is remarkable, and since most of the film’s appeal is visual, it makes for a stunning presentation, especially on Blu-ray. Also enlightening is a feature-length (74 minutes) documentary on the making of the film, with input from Skolimowski, Asher, Moulder-Brown and many others. There’s also a short film starring Asher exploring obsession from a female perspective, as well as another short documentary about scenes which weren’t included in the film. Finally, a substantial booklet is included with essays from David Thompson, Yvonne Tasker and Skolimowski expert Ewa Mazierska.

While I appreciated the film’s daring visuals and the theme of adolescent sexual obsession, I found the script weak and the performances uneven. In a few places (particularly one scene with former blonde bombshell Diana Dors), the film played like a classic British sex farce in the manner of the Carry On films, making its third act turn into darker territory somewhat jarring. But the leads are beautiful to look at, as is London (even though much of the film was actually shot in Munich!) and the soundtrack (with songs by Cat Stevens and Can) evokes a time and place that perfectly suits our protagonist’s tragic loss of innocence.



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The Last Gladiators

The Last Gladiators

The Last Gladiators (Director: Alex Gibney): Filmmaker Alex Gibney is clearly a very busy man. The Last Gladiators, in which he examines the world of National Hockey League pugilists, focussing in on the story of former Montreal Canadiens enforcer Chris “Knuckles” Nilan, is his tenth feature film since 2005, an unusually prolific output for a documentarian. And you can add in a couple of shorter segments he contributed to some other collaborative documentary projects during that period. Gibney has a track record for matching the quantity with quality, as his latest film proves, even if it’s a departure from the kind of politically-charged topics he’s best known for, such as the downfall of politicians (Client 9: The Rise and Fall of Eliot Spitzer and Casino Jack and the United States of Money), corporate malfeasance (Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room), and American military torture (Taxi to the Dark Side, which won an Oscar in 2008 for best documentary feature). But as a lifelong hockey fan, Gibney, an American, saw rich source material in examining the subculture of one of the most controversial aspect of Canada’s game, with Nilan’s own intriguing story providing about 75% of the film’s content.

Retiring in 1992 after being plagued by injuries (he’s undergone 26 surgeries), Nilan’s most notable achievements from his 13 year NHL career are more than 3,000 penalty minutes, a Stanley Cup win with the Canadiens in 1986, and a selection to Team USA for the 1987 Canada Cup series. After being drafted by Montreal, he played nine seasons for them before being traded to the New York Rangers and eventually his hometown Boston Bruins, before ending his career back with Montreal. Nilan’s pride and love for the Canadiens still runs deep and it seems as if he never got over the devastation of being traded away from them. His troubled post-NHL history, which proves to be the most substantive part of the film, could make Nilan the poster child for pro athletes who struggle with their post-playing lives. A toxic combination of substance abuse (alcohol, prescription painkillers, and heroin), employment problems (Nilan hated the insurance job he worked at), and legal troubles (including a 2009 arrest for shoplifting) destroyed his relationship with his wife and child and nearly killed him. Nilan, who has a very dark and intense side, may be a rough-around-the-edges character, but he’s still a likeable one. Part of his appeal is his blunt honesty, openness, and a willingness to take full responsibility for his failings. Interviews with his father who, like his son, projects a hard-ass demeanour and speaks with that always-fascinating thick Boston accent, add real emotional depth to the film, as the senior Nilan holds little back in conveying the profound heartache and shame he felt (and still feels) over his son’s struggles.

The non-Nilan portions of the film find Gibney tracing the evolution of the enforcer’s role in the game from its mid-70s heyday with the Philadelphia Flyers’ “Broad Street Bullies” through to its greatly diminished need in the current game. Numerous interviews with the most prominent fighters over the past couple of decades provide insight into the enforcer mindset, with players like Marty McSorley, Tony Twist, Donald Brashear, and the late Bob Probert weighing in (Probert’s interviews, conducted shortly before his death, are sad to watch). The scenes with Brashear are sad for a different reason, as we see the former fan favourite playing in D-list hockey league games and still itching to drop his gloves.

The Last Gladiators is a timely piece in light of the recent deaths of three NHL enforcers that called into question the possible link between their occupations and its negative residual effects on their lives. Nilan, who I heard give an interview on Toronto’s Prime Time Sports radio show the week before The Last Gladiators‘ TIFF premiere, discounted the connection. Nilan’s stance apparently escaped the attention of TV’s Hockey Night in Canada neanderthal Don Cherry, who criticized him and two other former fighters (also without basis) on the telecast for supporting the supposed theory.

Gibney, who began filming a general portrait of hockey fighters, chose wisely in deciding to make Nilan the central subject. The Last Gladiators is consistently gripping and only misfires when the director chooses some disappointingly obvious music on the soundtrack (Steppenwolf’s “Born To Be Wild”) or engages in unnecessary scene re-enactments to advance his narrative, dragging the documentary into cheesy E! True Hollywood Story territory. Being a hockey fan isn’t even a necessary component in appreciating the film, as I haven’t given a toss about the NHL since the inept Toronto Maple Leafs killed my love for the game in the mid-90s.

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