By Way of Apology
Look, Norm's been busy.
… well, that didn’t work out at all, did it?
Last year I was surprised to find I could maintain a regular publication schedule in the midst of TIFF, and figured I could do it again this year; of course, I hadn’t stopped to consider how being an active programmer would affect my time, and then there was also the whole moving-across-town thing. Fold in the additional family stuff, and … yeah, there wasn’t a lot of time for anything else, this newsletter included.
But the festival is over, the move is a full month behind us and we’re figuring out the other stuff, which means that, yes, I have time to write again. Which is nice, because I find myself missing it here and there. Writing film notes for the program book is fun, and we’ve got another thing coming up next month that required a little typing, but for the most part the only writing I do is in this newsletter, and it’s come to feel like a much-needed oasis in the midst of everything else. I’m excited to get back to it; it’s been a spotty couple of months, and I have a whole lot of stuff to write about – starting with those Imprint boxes I teased a while back, and also a pile of new releases.
Right now, though, I wanted to get my thoughts down about the experience of TIFF. I think I had the time of my life. It’s a wonderful thing, being in the room with a movie when it finds its first audience, feeling that audience embrace it and knowing you helped bring it there. It was different last year because none of those films was mine; however much I liked the movie, I wasn’t the person who’d invited it to the festival. I could turn up for the intros and moderate Q&As with no emotional investment; this year it was a little different.
We work with the filmmakers and their teams for months to bring a movie to TIFF, figuring out the best venues and the optimal screening times … and when a film lands, it’s euphoric. Danny Boyle once told me that Toronto is the only festival where you give a movie to an audience and they give it back to you; I thought it was very poetic but didn’t really understand what he meant until I stepped out on that stage last Thursday, and it’s been so fulfilling to see it happen over and over again. I’m wrung out and exhausted and even my bones hurt, but my heart is soaring. I could do this all day.
The intensely emotional world premieres of M.H. Murray’s I Don’t Know Who You Are, Fawzia Mirza’s The Queen of My Dreams and Deepa Mehta’s I Am Sirat; the once-in-a-lifetime screenings of Jen Markowitz’ Summer Qamp, Chloé Robichaud’s Days of Happiness and Denis Côté’s Mademoiselle Kenopsia in the Scotiabank’s IMAX room; the pure love that radiated for the filmmakers of Swan Song and Mr. Dressup: The Magic of Make-Believe; the receptions for Seagrass and In Flames and Humanist Vampire Seeking Consensual Suicidal Person and the way every screening of Backspot further ramped up the chaotic cheer-squad energy – I had the time of my goddamn life, and at this point I think I could live on projector light and applause alone. It was a glorious year for Canadian cinema, and the rest of the festival was pretty swell too.
If you weren’t able to join us, that’s okay; the movies will turn up, and Swan Song and Mr. Dressup are already booked to return to the Lightbox on September 29th. Hopefully you’ll love them as much as I do.
Anyway, more soon. All good things, I promise. Thanks, again, for your patience.