I’m almost two-thirds of the way through my 2008 films and finally have a few hours to string together between films. Some general thoughts about the film festival so far:

• I am pretty much sick of the Ryerson. 12 of my first 13 films — including eight in a row, and even four back-to-back-to-back-to-back screenings in one day — have been there. It’s convenient, and huge, and a decent venue all around…I just want to go somewhere else for a change. I’ve been there 15 times since Thursday night and I have four more screenings before it all wraps up Saturday night. Enough already. At least I know where the secret bathroom is…
• I’m not sure I’ll ever get tired of the pirate noises. For those of you who don’t attend TIFF screenings, I’ll explain: last year, in an effort to be all tough on people filming festival films, they tell people in the introductions not to film anything and that night-vision scanning will be used. They also put a big full-screen warning up before every screening saying something about piracy being punishable by blah blah blah. Well, last year the mention of piracy prompted people — Matt Brown claims to be the first — to yell “Arrrrh!!!” at the screen. It caught on last year, and continued into this year; the first few screenings prompted lusty pirate-calls from the upper Ryerson reaches. Even in small theatres one or two people (like yours truly) while give a quiet “Yar!” before the film starts. Among the more unruly audiences it’s even begun to happen while the festival staffer is saying their bit about piracy, to the point where the more clever ones like Colin Geddes have just shortened it to “Don’t, you know, steal the movie.” rather than be shouted down. I tell you why I like this though: it’s such a classic example of a polite and clever Canadian response to annoyance at being treated like punks. Surely the smart people at TIFF know that most film leaks happens from inside the industry, and that people who shell out hundreds of dollars for film packages aren’t terribly likely to be the ones stealing films, but they persist with these heavy-handed warnings and goons bearing night vision goggles. I just like that the Toronto audiences cheerfully mock them every time, and then happily settle in for the film.
• Still with the preamble: I hate the Motorola clip, I don’t mind the Cadillac ones (only because there’re three or four and they mix it up so we don’t get too sick of them) and I like that the staff no longer stop at asking people to turn off their cell phones…they also ask them to leave them off and not text throughout the movie. This warning started a few days ago, and has earned applause ’cause that light is fucking annoying.
• The lineup situation at the Yonge & Dundas AMC theatre needs to be fixed for next year. If this theatre is the new workhorse of the festival, you can’t have chaos — and that’s what it is — every time you send people in for their screening. A single outside line for all films, no cordon to keep festival-goers and pedestrians separate, crossing a lobby perpetually bisected by a Starbucks line and three escalators to the top makes for some issues. The line is more of an unruly herd of sheep by the time they reach the summit. Get it sorted out, kids.
• While home for lunch yesterday I watched a movie (’cause, you know, I haven’t seen many lately) from the PVR: Shoot ‘Em Up. It might well have been the worst piece of shit I have ever seen. How, HOW do Clive Owen, Paul Giamatti and Monica Belucci make that cancerous turd? Ugh. Makes me appreciate the festival films even more.
• Speaking of cancerous turds, I’m glad to see the Paris Hilton documentary — and all the accompanying press manipulation — is getting trashed. Quoth the AV Club:

“I’ll admit to being intrigued by the idea of unauthorized Hilton documentary, given the wealth of dismal footage that does meet with her approval, and I had hoped that Petty would capture the raw machinations of Hilton Inc. No such luck, alas. All one could do before, after, and during the screening was just stare at Paris and contemplate the void. The one thing the documentary suggests, inadvertently I’d guess, is that Hilton seems to have no inner life whatsoever. And that’s the difference between her and Marilyn Monroe, the icon who’s fun-and-flirty image she’s trying to replicate: People gawked at Monroe because she was bubbly and sexy and flirtatious; people gawk at Hilton because her eyes reflect the blank, pitiless implacability of death.”

[tags]tiff, tiff08[/tags]