vampire love

I don't know what it is about the vampire myth that is so enduring. Much has been written on the seemingly endless cycle of repetition and variation on this theme, so I won't spend a lot of time speculating; however, I'd like to compare and contrast two examples of it that I happened to see on the same night this weekend: HBO's dramedy True Blood, and the 2008 Swedish film Let the Right One In. It's like comparing apples and oranges, but I still think it's an interesting cultural exercise.

I haven't always been a True Blood fan but in Season 3 (when Sookie was nursing viking bloodsucker Eric back to health from magic-induced amnesia) things got pretty hot and heavy and I admit I was hooked (apparently I wasn't the only one--the Season 3 finale drew 11.4 million viewers). There is something inexplicably sexy about the idea of making it with a vampire and the show has coasted on this for quite some time, rehashing one of the most deeply-rooted American archetypes: the good girl who loves bad boys.

For me, the other most appealing aspect of True Blood is its small-town Louisiana setting; as the brilliantly-constructed opening credits sequence establishes, the swampy ground of Bon Temp is rife with voodoo, sex and holy rolling. In classic HBO fashion, the seedy underbelly is sliced open and its entrails exposed for us to feast on.

Unfortunately, Season 4 transitions from vampire sex to war on witchcraft, and for me the show has officially jumped the shark. The writers must sense that their audience will eat up whatever drivel they dish out, penning such appallingly bad dialogue as "This fucking sucks!" when Marnie the witch gets taken down. I'm sure they'll keep True Blood on life support for a few more seasons, but I think the whole thing is getting ridiculously campy and over-the-top.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have Let the Right One In. This love story disguised as a horror movie is delightfully refreshing, and not just because it seems to have been shot entirely at -30 in the dead of the Swedish winter. Its protagonist, Oskar, is an almost albino-blond 12-year-old who is so innocent and sweet he hardly seems of this world. Of course, the school bullies have a field day terrorizing him. One day, he meets a girl his age (Eli) who seems to understands him but, strangely, she goes around barefoot in the snow and can only come out to play at night. People in the neighborhood start dying mysterious, untimely deaths as Oskar and Eli get closer, until he finally beings to understand her dark secret....

The film's style is old-fashioned and it looks like it was shot 20 years ago on a $10,000 budget, but in a good way (think of what a horror film would look like if directed by Ingmar Bergman c. 1984). That being said, its restraint makes it suspenseful, and its well-spaced, creepy FX scenes give just the right amount of goosebumps. Hard-core horror fans might disappointed (although I'd encourage them to give it a chance), but for me this movie's subtle thrills and endearing protagonist make it a great thinking-person's scary movie and represents a much more sensitive, decidedly un-American take on the vampire love theme. I haven't yet seen the US remake (entitled Let Me In), but without young Kare Hedebrant's angelic face and captivating performance, it surely couldn't compare. If you need something to watch while handing out candy tonight, I highly recommend the original.

Happy Halloween!

"drive" fan

I was going to write a post devoted to Drive, the retro-80's chase movie I had been anticipating seeing for some time, but I'll never top this brilliant "illustrated reaction" by Lisa Hanawalt.

However, I'll still say this: While the grown-up part of my brain thinks that the best part of this movie was the opening sequence, and that it's just a little too "cool" and its style trumps its substance, the teenager in me is totally agog.

It's the kind of movie I would have seen at seventeen and then stayed up all night talking about over coffee with my friend. I feel like plastering my walls with posters and fan art devoted to it. Even though I found the lyrics to a certain song way too on-the-nose while watching the movie, I have a compulsion to listen to the soundtrack on repeat through my headphones while writing Ryan Gosling gushing fan letters in spite of (or perhaps because of) the goofy grin he wears throughout the film.

I haven't had this kind of reaction to a movie in quite some time (to specify how long would be to divulge my actual age). Anyway, if you're looking for something to watch this weekend, go and see Drive. Unleash your inner teenage fan girl in the process....

first we take toronto

Days 2 and 3 were quite a whirwind so I had no time to blog--which is the way it should be, after all. (No, I didn't see any "celebrities," just huge crowds of people gathered around taking pictures of them.)

After sleeping in (I'm getting too old for 9am screenings after party nights) we started Saturday off with a bit of hanging around festival HQ next to the Lightbox just to have a coffee and take in the madness. Had we been a little more bold (or desperate) and a little less proud, we could have run up to Ted Hope (the indie producer/god with over 100 titles to his credit) and others, with our script. But that is not our style; with all the Blackberries going off and industry-types milling about, we were out of there after an hour or so.

Our film of the day (ticket prices are so prohibitive that we had to limit ourselves) was FUBAR-director Michael Dowse's new movie, Goon. After the last night's heart-wrenching Marécages, we were in the mood for a comedy and this one delivered the goods. I am a long-time Dowse fan but had heard absolutely nothing about Goon before going in, so it was even more of a pleasant surprise. The screenplay was co-written by Jay Baruchel and Evan Goldberg (whose previous credits include Superbad and Knocked Up) and was delightfully over-the-top, as was Baruchel's performance as the foul-mouthed, mercurial sleaze-ball host of "Hot Ice", a web TV show devoted to minor-league hockey fights and hits. Dowse introduced the film saying it's been a hard few months for hockey goons (referring to the untimely deaths of enforcers Derek Boogaard, Rick Rypien and Wade Belak) and he said that although this film is a comedy and has "no social agenda whatsoever," his heart goes out to these guys and their families. Someone asked him in the Q & A if this film is an attempt to move away from FUBAR and into the mainstream, and he replied that he doesn't know what mainstream is, he just wants to make good movies. The refreshing thing about Dowse is that his movies have a lot of heart (often lacking in our cerebral, ironic national cinema). Furthermore, this film is an interesting case study of what is possible when a bunch of Canadians who have "made it" in Hollywood get together to make a movie in Canada--hopefully this time the distribution won't get bungled and it will be widely seen.

The rest of my stay at the festival was pretty much devoted to the business side: cocktails and schmoozing. For the first time, I really felt that we were getting somewhere and by coincidence we crossed paths with many of the people we were hoping to talk to and some unexpected ones too. As a writer/director I'm often more comfortable in my bubble off in a corner somewhere, but I'm gradually learning not to try too hard and simply be myself in these situations. It can definitely be overwhelming trying to make meaningful conversation with dozens upon dozens of strangers, but that is why there are free drinks. In the end, I felt like we are finally starting to make the right connections and come across kindred spirits who are actually willing to help. They are out there--it just takes a lot of beating around the bush to find them. With a bit of post-festival follow-up, who knows what could happen?

My stay was only three days but that was just enough; a person can only take so much schmoozing, boozing and waiting in line (we actually decided to step out of the rush line for Take this Waltz just before the start because there were so many people our seats would have been terrible). Some of us may have day jobs to get back to, but attending the festival makes us feel like filmmakers again. Regardless of the outcome, I had a good time at TIFF this year.

jour #1

Well, it's been just over 24 hours and already we've already managed to score tickets to the opening night party (along with all of Toronto) talk our way into an industry event, and attend the opening screening of the Canada First! program. We also got some business-related good news, some bad news and a taste of the fear and self-loathing that creeps up at some point whenever we come to TIFF. In all, a pretty full-on first day.


In the morning we attended Telefilm's "Canadian Talent to Watch" panel, featuring Simon Davidson (The Odds), Guy Édoin (Wetlands/Marécages), Anne Émond (Nuit #1), Ivan Grbovic (Romeo Eleven/Roméo Onze), Yonah Lewis and Calvin Thomas (Amy George) and Nathan Morlando (Edwin Boyd). Atom Egoyan gave a thoughtful, self-deprecating introductory speech about starting out in the industry and how the panelist's first features are "much stronger than my own". The panelists had some interesting advice for emerging filmmakers including "work with your friends, because shooting a film is very hard and you need friends on set" (Anne Émond) and "the biggest challenge as a director is preserving your naivety and intuition within the confines of a shooting schedule" (Ivan Grbovic).


Next, we attended the much-anticipated North American premiere of Guy Édoin's Marécages--another example of raw, powerful Quebec cinema. The film tells the story of a farm family facing bankruptcy and other, more serious setbacks in the midst of a drought. There is a scene in which a calf is torn from its mother by the desperate farmers, only to die; the brutal reality of farm life is rarely portrayed on screen with such honesty (if at all) and it hit very close to home for me, being from a rural milieu myself. Édoin obviously qualifies as "talent to watch" and although I'm still reeling from the emotional kick in the stomach, I look forward to his future offerings. 


We shall see what tomorrow brings....

everyone's a critic

Today is the start of the movie madness that has been branded simply as TIFF. Everyone in the film industry knows what this means: the Toronto International Film Festival (in case you've been living under a rock or without TV for the past decade or so).

This festival is not only on par with Cannes and Sundance in terms of celebrity glitz and indie influence, it is also an annual pilgrimage for us small-potato Canadian filmmakers hoping to ride the coattails of some friend-of-a-friend into fame and fortune (or at least a good party or two).

Nothing can describe the excitement of having a première at TIFF--as a Canadian filmmaker you feel sky-high, thinking the experience is going to change your life. I was lucky enough to have a taste of this two years ago when my short was an "official selection" (allowing me to emblazon my press materials with the coveted laurels and TIFF logo for all time).

The festival did end up changing my life, but not in the way I thought it would. Imagine my dismay after arriving in Toronto, picking up my industry pass, greeting my cast and crew, who had flown across the country to be there, only to open up the free Toronto weekly and read a scathing review saying my film was terrible and brought down the program. "Crushed" does not even begin to describe the feeling. Having invested two years of blood, sweat and tears along with thousands of dollars of my own money in the project, my sense of pride and accomplishment was instantly stomped on.

I still made the most of the festival and had a great time, but was haunted by this skunk in the woodpile. A writer friend of mine once told me to never, ever respond to your critics, but I've decided to respond indirectly--by setting an example.

When I attend TIFF this year (not as a filmmaker, but as a blogger) I will try to refrain from any criticisms that are catty, self-important or deconstructive. In fact, Mom's advice to say nothing at all when one has nothing nice to say is, as always, best; I know how hard it is to make a film and how devastating negative reaction can be, especially to an emerging artist.

Now, let's hope I can get into some screenings.....

art of the state

Why is it that Anglo-Canadian filmmakers just can't seem to break through with audiences on the same level that our writers and musicians have? Let's put the Jewisons and the Cronenbergs aside and focus on those who still reside and work in Canada, with Canadian dollars backing them. (Also, we've never had a deficiency in the experimental and documentary departments, I'm talking fiction here.)

Much has been written on this subject; some blame the talent-vacuum that is Hollywood, luring away all our writers, actors and directors. Others say it's the government funding structure, which we are lucky to have, but which works in mysterious ways more often than not. Perhaps it's the ever-present national identity crisis: who are we and what makes us Canadian? etc. There is also the lack of available screens due to the distribution/exhibition oligopoly that is taking over theatres.

Whatever the obstacles in our path, I think we Anglo-Canadian filmmakers need to take a closer look at our product (which is, after all, the one thing we can control). Do our recent films really stand up when compared with Quebec, let alone independent American offerings? Rather than wade too deeply into the debate, I'll let you be the judge. Here are some interesting ones to consider:

Black Field (2009)

This is a promising feature debut from Winnipeg director Danishka Esterhazy. A Gothic prairie tale set in the 1870s, it tells the story of a love triangle between two sisters living alone on their farm and a handsome francophone stranger with a dubious past. Although some of the details could have used more fleshing out, this film reminds me of playing "pioneers" with my cousins in the bleak prairie landscape (in a good way) and the two young actresses are a pleasure to watch.

Small-Town Murder Songs (2010)

I had high expectations for this one, and perhaps that was my problem. The concept sounds great--a murder shakes up a pacifist Mennonite community in rural Ontario. I was hoping for a Canadian Silent Light (a brilliant, slow-paced Menno love-triangle set on a Mexican colony by director Carlos Reygadas) but found writer/director/producer Ed Gass-Donnelly's  use of music and superimposed Bible verses (the same as quoted in Glenn Gould's radio doc The Quiet in the Land) to be a bit heavy-handed. Plus, I get tired of seeing the same actors' faces all the time (Jackie Burroughs, anyone?). Sometimes it's better to go with unknown or unprofessional actors in bit parts, since recognizing a well-known one can take the audience out of the story.

Grown-Up Movie Star (2009)

I really enjoyed this one, another debut from a woman filmmaker (Adriana Maggs). The story of a self-destructive teenage girl in a small town may not be the most original (I've even made a film about that subject), but I think originality is over-rated anyway. It's what you do with a concept that makes the film live or die, and this movie's fine cast carries it off brilliantly. Saskatchewan girl Tatiana Maslany even won an acting award at Sundance for her performance and is definitely on her way up.

Cairo Time (2009)

I have to admit that, for me, this film was the most pleasant surprise of the bunch. Yes, it falls squarely into "chick-flick" territory, and although the stories may sound similar, it's nothing like the cliché and shmaltzy Eat Pray Love. In Cairo Time, love blossoms between a woman waiting alone in Cairo for her husband, who is prevented from joining her due to his high-stakes job with the UN, and a dark, handsome friend of his. Somehow, writer-director Ruba Nadda has managed to make this dreamily romantic, funny and bittersweet film without being sucked down into sentimentality--a terrific feat when dealing with material like this! I have great respect for this prolific yet under-appreciated filmmaker and look forward to her future offerings.

PS: Notice a thread developing here? Four out of five of these films are from women directors--hopefully this trend continues!

PPS: Some other recent Canadian films I look forward to seeing: The Kate Logan Affair (Noël Mitrani), Good Neighbors (Jacob Tierney), and of course, Keyhole (Guy Maddin).

west is best

I love films that are set in the West but aren't actually Westerns. I mentioned a couple of these (The Last Picture Show and The Killer Inside Me) in my small-town melodrama list, but since it's another favourite subgenre of mine, I thought I'd elaborate.

The Western has more offshoots than perhaps any other genre; every decade or two it seems to be revived with a twist. However, it always seems to boil down to the same old elements, which gets tedious if you're not a fan of overblown myths of masculinity and stage-y acting. I know I'm going to catch some flak for this, but I find Sergio Leone films painful to watch and Jon Wayne's cardboard delivery really gets on my nerves. That being said, I love the western setting: the sweeping desert landscapes, the horses, the cowboy hats--with the right artistic vision these elements can meld into pure cinematic magic.

Fortunately for me, there are lots of auteur films in which to get a fix without the tired tropes of the classical Western. Here are a few, for your viewing pleasure:

The Misfits (1961)

Written by playwright Arthur Miller, directed by John Huston and starring Marilyn Monroe, Clark Gable and Montgomery Clift, this film is a tour-de-force. In her final (and, probably, best) performance, Monroe plays a divorcee who is appalled when her rugged cowboy lover, played by Gable, plans to round up the area's last remaining herd of wild horses and sell them for dog food. Her love for the untamed beasts is consistent with her love for Gable's manly character, but the latter's Western pragmatism spoils the romance and leads to disillusionment. The film has its share of light, funny moments, but it culminates in an unforgettably passionate outcry from Monroe. If you ask me, she is generally underrated as an actress (it's hard to take a woman seriously when her breasts are always falling out of her dress) and, here, the casting choice takes on added significance since, in life as in this role, she proved to be a tragic figure too sensitive for the rough world around her.

Brokeback Mountain (2005)

This is a classic tragedy about two people who love each other more than anything else in the world but can't be together--the twist is that they happen to be cowboys. Masterfully directed and acted (the late Heath Ledger is especially brilliant as man-of-few-words Ennis Del Mar), the film contains what is, in my opinion, one of the saddest moments in all cinema; I won't spoil the plot for you, but I will admit that I bawl like a baby every time I see it.

Giant (1956)

James Dean in a cowboy hat. Need I say more? This sprawling epic about a Texas ranching family is perfect viewing for a long, late-summer night.

Hud (1963)

Paul Newman in a cowboy hat...you get the picture. Anyway, this gem of a film also has a really interesting screenplay in that the title character is actually the antagonist and his young nephew who seems to be on the fringe of the story ends up being framed as the protagonist. Filmed in beautiful black and white, it's pure pleasure to watch.

Crin blanc / White Mane (1953)

This film is delightfully odd; coming in at 40 minutes in length, I would describe it as an existential fairy-tale for kids. Directed by Albert Lamorisse (The Red Balloon), it also has to do with the capture of a wild horse, this time in the Camargue region of Southern France. A young boy witnesses the attempts of the gardians (Camargue cowboys) to break a wild stallion named White Mane. A violent contest breaks out between White Mane and one of the other horses in which they paw at each other with their hooves and bite each other until their silvery coats are streaked with blood (this long, visceral battle looks as though it just happened spontaneously and they decided to let the cameras roll). White Mane, the victor, escapes the paddock and from then on the little boy is obsessed, fantasizing about the magnificent creature in gorgeously filmed, hypnotic dream sequences. He finally does get to ride White Mane, but the gardians give chase across the desert marshes; the film closes on the boy and horse swimming out to sea, never to return.

PS: Unforgiven, a brilliant anti-Western by Clint Eastwood, and The Three Burials of Meliaques Estrada, an arthouse indie-Western by Tommy Lee Jones, may appear to be more faithful to the conventions of the genre, but add enough twists to make them very interesting anomalies for anyone who's tired of the same old horse operas.