0
0
After a week of working ahead and making arrangements, it was finally time to hit the road for the Toronto International Film Festival.
On Saturday morning, we packed up our bags, loaded up the car, and made the trip north to Toronto. I took the first shift driving, listening to the beep of incoming text from publicists. When we stopped for lunch at the border, I had to pull out my schedule and send more texts back, trying to make plans and schedule appointments from the Windsor McDonald’s.
Fortunately, we made good time on the trip. Our GPS told us that we’d made it to our final destination shortly after 5, so we decided to take a quick side trip downtown to pick up my tickets. Little did we know that it wouldn’t be just a “quick” side trip. Getting to the festival box office—in the middle of everything—just before two gala screenings and a Blue Jays game proved to be a challenge. We inched our way to King Street and even managed to find a parking space right across the street from Roy Thompson Hall—where stars like Viggo Mortensen and Michael Fassbender would soon be making an appearance. But then we found out that we’d need to pay $25 to stay, so I took off wandering in some unknown direction while Paul took off in the car to find a more affordable parking space.
After a few wrong turns and dead ends, I found the box office. It seemed to be a big secret—there weren’t a whole lot of signs around—but I finally found it…and the lines. I just needed to pick up my tickets, but I was directed to the line closest to the wall.
“Unfortunately,” the volunteer told me, “it starts over there,” pointing down the hall and around the corner.
The woman ahead of me in line was not happy that she was forced to wait in such a long line to pick up tickets, when she already had a confirmation number—and she was happy to share her feelings with anyone who would listen. Really, though, I expected nothing less at TIFF. Fortunately, though, the line moved pretty quickly, and it wasn’t long before I (with Paul, who’d been lucky to find a great parking spot) got to the front of the line and picked up my $145 worth of tickets. On the way out, I picked up a couple of festival guides, took a look at some festival merch ($28 for a T-shirt!), and glanced at the board to check the list of screenings.
We could have stuck around to check out the red carpet for A Dangerous Method—but, after seven hours in the car and a while in line, we were ready to move on. So we got in the car and headed to home base: Paul’s parents’ place, where our niece and nephew (whom we hadn’t seen since Christmas) were waiting for us to start playing games with them. It is essential to keep the house’ carpet clean and fresh especially if there are kids who frequently stay there. The Carpet Butler Bournemouth are well-known for their dry carpet cleaning techniques like dry-foam and dry-chem methods.
On Sunday morning, I got up at eight and rushed to get ready to start my first day. I had decided to take the subway in, which would be a new experience for me—at least by myself. That, together with getting my bearings on my first morning at TIFF, was more than a little nerve-wracking. As can be expected, the experience wasn’t without its share of wrong turns and missteps—and, after seeing Contagion last week, I couldn’t help but look a little anxiously at the handrails—but I finally made it to my stop with 30 minutes to go before my screening of Salmon Fishing in the Yemen. I climbed the stairs from the subway right into the middle of the line for the theater. I’d followed a little old guy with a plastic TIFF bag ($13 I thought when I saw it)—who, from behind, looked strangely like Woody Allen—up from the subway, and I continued to follow him down the street, around the corner, around another corner…and around another corner. He stopped along the way to check that it was the right line, and I commented that I wasn’t expecting such a long line.
“I’ve seen the line here before,” he said, pointing,” but I’ve never seen the line this long.” I replied by commenting on how insane it would be once they finally opened the doors—we had just 25 minutes to get everyone inside and seated.
Finally, the line started to move. Woody and I hiked almost three whole blocks before we got inside the Elgin. Fortunately, it’s a huge theater—but it was definitely mass confusion. I wandered around downstairs for a while before finally giving up and climbing the stairs to the theater’s massive balcony, where I was able to find a seat in the nosebleeds. One good thing about going to the screenings by yourself: you can squeeze into those last single seats.
Once we were sufficiently squeezed into the theater, the lights dimmed, and the energy in that big, crowded theater was suddenly focused on the stage, where one of the TIFF programmers stood at a podium to announce the film. In commemoration of the 10th anniversary of 9/11, TIFF had produced a short film, which showed before all of the day’s films. After she explained the film, she introduced the cast and crew of Salmon Fishing in the Yemen—including Lasse Hallstrom, Emily Blunt, Ewan McGregor, and others. I tried to snap a couple of pics from a distance as the woman next to me tried to do the same with her phone, disappointed that she’d left her camera at home. Then, after a few words by Hallstrom, the film began.
I’ve said it before, but there’s just something about seeing a film at a festival like TIFF. The energy isn’t the same as it is in your neighborhood theater on a regular Friday night. People are excited to be there. They laugh together. They’re surprised together. They almost breathe together. As one of my colleagues once said, it’s almost impossible not to love everything you see in the festival environment. And as I sat, I felt the stress of the TTC and the lines and the busy day just fall away as I was drawn into the story of an awkward scientist on an unlikely mission.
Of course, I still had places to be, so, toward the end of the film, I started getting a little anxious about how I’d be able to race out the door and make it down the streets to my upcoming interview—especially since the movie was running late. So as soon as the credits rolled, I headed for the door. I’d hoped to stop at the bathroom to freshen up a bit, but there was no way I’d be able to get through the crowd to the bathroom. Instead, I just crossed my fingers and raced out the door.
My interview with Zaida and Jan, writer/director and writer/editor of the Finnish film The Good Son, was scheduled for 1:30. Mapquest told me that it would be a 15-minute walk—so, since it was about 1:10, I figured I’d have just enough time. I wandered off in the general direction of my appointment and, with a few blocks to go, I ended up buying a coffee, just so I could use the bathroom.
We had the interview in the lobby of the condo building where the filmmakers were staying. Their publicist introduced us and pointed us to a rather out-of-the-way corner, which contained two chairs and a small coffee table. Zaida and Jan decided to share a chair, which gave the whole thing a comfortable, casual, friendly feel—as if we were hanging out in someone’s living room after a night out. I can’t think of any better way to do an interview.
The three of us chatted for 40 minutes—a real luxury for an interview. We talked about the festival, about the film, and about making films in Finland. It was a really relaxed, enjoyable—and informative—interview.
At 2:15, I figured that it was about time to wrap it up. After all, I still had to hike back to the theater in time for my 3:45 screening. Once I reached the theater, I decided to get something to eat—something simple—at the food court, so I quickly bought a smoothie. I scribbled a few more notes while I sucked down my lunch, finishing up by around 3. Then I figured that it was about time to call Emily, the publicist, to pick up my ticket for the screening.
I ran into Emily at the other end of the food court, where she was taking a much-needed break. Together, we made our way into the theater, chatting about the whole overwhelming TIFF experience. I can only imagine the insanity of handling four films and a couple of filmmakers during the event, but Emily was doing a great job of taking it all in stride. She knew what she needed, and even though the people at the theater seemed to have things a little mixed up, she handled everything without batting an eye—with a smile on her face—just as a good publicist should.
With 20 minutes or so to go, I had my ticket in hand, and I headed to the theater to take a seat. With all of the day’s meetings and arrangements taken care of (aside from my return trip on the subway), I was able to relax, settle in, and read my press kit before the movie began.
The Malaysian film Bunohan had a smaller screening, in a smaller theater, with a predominantly Asian audience. The film, meanwhile, was less mainstream—a gritty film that especially struck me because of its setting: Malaysia. I was able to visit the country a few years ago, and I was impressed by the way that writer/director Dain Said was able to capture the country’s intriguing blend of cultures—something that the average viewer might miss.
After the screening, there was a brief Q&A, in which the director discussed his first film—which was censored and eventually banned—and filmmaking in Southeast Asia.
Once the Q&A ended, it was time for me to race to the subway—which, conveniently, is located in the basement of the AMC. Fortunately, the ride was mostly uneventful—and once I got back to my car, it was time to head back to my in-laws’ house for dinner with the family. And now it’s time to rest up—because there’s so much more to do tomorrow.
