The TIFF's Reaction
Before the Attack
Up to the morning of September 11th, I'd been desperately trying to
put the 2001 edition of the Toronto International Film Festival
into some kind of context. I'd been frequenting the event since the
mid-80s, first as a film student, now my fourth time as a journalist.
TIFF's silver-anniversary edition
came prefabricated with millennial sentiment and pontifications of 100-year-old
cinema's future practically built into the press agreement. The 2001
film year had been derided up until September as the medium's very death
rattle, a sweeping dismissal from most pundits that I didn't exactly
agree with (what post-"Jaws" summer movie season has
not been written off as the Worst Ever?). The fest began without "Oscar
buzz", with no "this year's American Beauty" hopeful,
and no programmer seemed to have discovered that rare homemade movie
that would blow the expensive gala epics out of the projector gate.
It did, true to form, place some obscure subjects front and centre:
"Wavelengths", a programme of avant-garde experimental
film and video, as well as a retrospective on Austrian documentarian
Ulrich Seidl, and a showcase of the little-seen works of Quebecois
"videaste" Jean Pierre Lefebvre. A low-budget Canadian
feature, Bruce Sweeney's "Last Wedding", kicked
off the Opening Night Gala.
After the Attack
| "With the impromptu afternoon press conference
on September 11, President and Executive Director Piers Handling
had nailed it for me: "The party's over."" |
Events were cancelled for the remainder of that terrible Tuesday, and
there was much boardroom deliberation as to whether or not to continue
-- a shut down would mark the first in the TIFF's 26-year history. But
with airports and borders closed, the celebs and industry types already
in town weren't going anywhere, and Handling later announced that the
screenings would continue, but qualified, "without any sense of
celebration." Parties and red carpet Galas were cancelled,
as were the Closing Night Party and annual Sunday Awards Luncheon.
Interviews and press conferences would proceed on the terms of the respective
filmmakers. It wasn't uncommon to see personalities like William
H. Macy watching the live coverage on giant downtown Jumbotrons
along with a panicked public. Director David
Lynch holed up in his hotel room for several days, distraught
over his son, a Manhattan resident (since found to be safe, I'm happy
to report). Mamet regular Ricky Jay wandered the downtown streets,
trying to make sense of the attack while pining to get back home. Only
a few others decided to occupy the time spent waiting for breaking news
by promoting their films (I was surprised when Mike Figgis and
much of his "Hotel"
cast, including Salma Hayek and David Schwimmer, showed
up at a midnight rescheduling to greet the audience).
Some films were cancelled outright, without explanation. The rumour
mill was abuzz with talk of censorship of those films of politically
"turbulent" subjects such as Leon Ichaso's "Pinero",
starring Benjamin Bratt as the poet/playwright Miguel Pinero
and Henry Bean's "The Believer", the acclaimed
drama about a neo-Nazi skinhead who hides that he is a Jew. Others insisted
those same titles weren't screened because the prints couldn't get through
(in the case of Frank Whalley's directorial debut "The
Jimmy Show", sort of "King Of Comedy"-lite, I believe
it). The cancellations and rescheduling caused me to miss a few films
on my "must see" list, among them, unfortunately, the People's
Choice Award Winner "Le Fabuleux Destin D'Amelie Poulain"
(from Jean-Pierre Jeunet, the codirector of "City Of Lost
Children") and the first Inuit feature/Cannes winner "Atanarjuat
(The Fast Runner)".
[The Lighter Side of TIFF 2001
]
- Robert L
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