Toronto & Venice Lineups: Full of Contenders & Sleepers

Robert here (of Distant Relatives) with some thoughts on the lineups for the Toronto and Venice International Film Festivals which were announced Wednesday morning. And Oh Canada (and Viva Italia!) are they impressive.

Let's begin with Venice since it's up first.

VENICE
First up, the many films that will be vying for awards and spots on prestigious top 10 lists at the end of the year. I mention them first because while there's much to anticipate about them all, there's not too much left to say. They've staked their claim and now we must wait for word to start rolling in. So we can see if Roman Polanski's late career semi-resurgence can continue with the impressive cast of Carnage, or whether Steven Soderberg's Contagion can live up to that buzzy trailer. Meanwhile David Cronenberg's A Dangerous Method sets out to prove that just because he doesn't make movies with gynelogical tools that look like alien lifeforms anymore, he's still a master of psychosexual pathos. George Clooney's The Ides of March will try to be more than Primary Colors redux and Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (from Let the Right One In's Tomas Alfredson) may finally get Gary Oldman some recognition in the form of little statues. And of course Madonna reinvents herself yet again, this time as feature film director with W.E.

Meanwhile I feel like the lineup has reminded me of how many films have fallen under the radar so far this year. Did you know Jonathan Demme has made a post-Katrina documentary entitled I'm Carolyn Parker? Underachiever James Franco has found time to direct a film about Sal Mineo called Sal. Todd Solondz is back at it with the romance Dark Horse, which I'm sure will be more fun for the whole family. Further representing the ladies are Marry Harron who jumps into the vampire fray with The Moth Diaries, Andrea Arnold who gives us a new version of Wuthering Heights, and Marjane Satrapi of Persepolis fame who, with co-director Vincent Paronnaud presents her sophomore effort Chicken With Plums.

If that weren't enough there's Shame, Steve McQueen's follow up to 2008's Hunger which pairs Michael Fassbender with Cary Mulligan. If you liked 2007's sweetly sad The Band's Visit, director Eran Kolirin presents The Exchange. And if you liked last years not-so-sweetly sad Dogtooth, Giorgios Lanthimos is back with Alps. Plus new films from Philippe Garrel, Abel Ferrera, William Friedkin and more. Exhausting. The full list is available for your perusal at The Guardian.

TORONTO
Now on to TIFF, the official unofficial start of award season. Along with some films from Venice that will be here too (The Ides of March, The Dangerous Method, W.E.), we'll get our first look at "Sad Clooney" in Alexander Payne's The Descendants, "Angry Woody" in Oren Moverman's Rampart, and "Mathy Brad" in Bennett Miller's Moneyball. Rodrigo Garcia's Albert Nobbs rings the bell on the Glenn Close/Meryl Streep steel cage Oscar match we're all looking forward to and/or feeling conflicted about. Meanwhile Francis Ford Coppola continues the "we hope this one will be his big comeback" era of his career with Twixt.

Of course, Toronto could be comeback central. Fernando Meirelles is premeiring 360 in an attempt to put Blindness out of sight. Lasse Hallstrom is back (actually I can't remember if he went anywhere or if we all stopped paying attention). Anyway if he has his way the title Salmon Fishing in the Yemen will be on all of our lips. Also did you know that Roland Emmerich has apparently grown tired of destroying the world and made a film about Shakespeare called Anonymous... seriously. And his subtler and more stylish French counterpart Luc Besson has maybe put thrillers on hold for The Lady.

The list seemingly never ends, but I must. So I'll finish off with two films you might be anticipating if you enjoyed 2004's My Summer of Love and 2007's Away From Her. Pawel Pawlikoski is back with The Woman in the Fifth and Sarah Polley returns to the director's chair for Take This Waltz. As usual there's still plenty more and The Guardian has that list too.

Once your head has stopped spinning with the promise of a busy end of the year sound off. Which of these are you looking most forward to? Which are you having trouble getting worked up for?

Pontiac... The Emerald City

Hey people!  I'm popping in very briefly from Michigan as I vacation. How about this for my timing:No sooner did I arrive (Saturday) than James Franco, Mila Kunis, Michelle Williams and Rachel Weisz showed up to start shooting Oz, The Great and Powerful (Monday). Okay okay technically maybe they aren't all here yet -- I haven't seen the call sheets -- but production began at the new Raleigh Studios in Pontiac. The whole movie will be shot there in what used to be an old truck manufacturing plant or somesuch.

Pontiac is where we used to go to concerts as a kid... the ones that weren't in Detroit that is. Here's a handy map to show where we're all located. I'm only like an hour away from the stars.

[Note: Madonna is not in Oz The Great and Powerful but I include her on the map because every time I visit Michigan, I pretend she also just happens to be visiting, as we are (pretend) psychically bound!]

If I wasn't visiting family and friends. If I wasn't sane. If I wasn't poor. If I had all the time in the world. If I were a stalker. If I owned a paparazzi telephoto lensed camera... I would stake out the studios and share photos. Too many "if"s so I'll just keep on with the visiting.

If you haven't been following the film, it concerns the Wizard as a younger man (Franco) who is whisked away from Kansas to the magical land (people come and go so quickly there) where he attempts to establish his wizardly rep while dealing with Oz's many political problems and three doubtful witches: Theodora (Kunis) and Evanora (Weisz) who are sisters (West and East, don'cha know) and Glinda the Good (Williams). I'm actually most curious about what they'll do with Glinda. After so many gloomy indies and depressed characters, isn't this a major "against type" role for Michelle Williams? As you surmise it's a prequel to Dorothy's legendary trip and sounds as if bears at least a passing resemblance to Gregory Maguire's "Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West" albeit with the focus shifted away from the green skinned broom flying baddie and over to the man behind the curtain.

Glinda in 1920, 1939, 2003, and 2012

Maguire's rather R rated "Wicked" was adapted into a kid friendly behemoth musical in 2003. It's so popular that it's long since outgrossed most films in existence. That's not something you hear every day, huh, theater outgrossing the cinema? But with a billion dollars and counting, it's beyond huge. The original books by L. Frank Baum -- all dozenplus of them -- are in the public domain meaning that any writer who wants to can riff on the world and characters free of licensing fees and rights options. But this has been true since the late 1950s so the plethora of Oz pictures in the works, are obviously due to Wicked's popularity, and Wicked's popularity alone. In a weird twist of fate by the time Wicked gets to the screen (distant future? never? they've been dragging their heels for years) the public may be too exhausted by Oz to care. 

But back to Oz the Great and Powerful. Remember when Franco & Kunis played those crazy marrieds in Date Night? 

"Wet Hot American Summer" at 10!

Alex BBats here, and today is the 10th birthday of one of my all time favorite films.  

Watching a film can be a relatively light affair.  Simple plots, easy jokes, characters who follow archetypes to the tee. A.O. Scott recently proposed that more challenging and unconventional films, such as Bela Tarr’s Turin Horse, might expand a moviegoers palate and appetite for cinema.  Occasionally a film brings the viewer into a lawless land, not one filled with bandits, but a can of vegetables who happens to be a Vietnam Veteran, a boy who can create gusts, and haystacks able to block a motorcycle.  Wet Hot American Summer (2001) challenges the viewer with absurdity, its reward being pure bliss.

Wet Hot American Summer is bedazzled to the brim with details: funny posters, extras dancing, strange gestures, or that fantastic breaking glass sound effect.  I’ve seen Wet Hot American Summer over 30 times and always find, or am given, something new to smile at.  (This latest playthrough, I heard a small, impressed gasp that the talent show MC hailed from  the Catskill Mountains resort circuit and Amy Pohler whispering “This is terrible” during the Godspell number.) 

Depth is rare in film and rarer in comedy.  David Wain and the company put there all into making this film the best possible.  There's a youthful vigor to the movie, which is especially considering that twenty and thirtysomethings are playing teenagers. Every scene in Wet Hot American Summer has something unexpected. The actors don’t sell the jokes, they own and share them.  You can tell everyone had an amazing time on the set.  Eighty percent of the cast (or thereabouts) went on to become A-list actors. (Bradley Cooper gets a permapass because of this film). Even the kid that gets tossed out of the van has an amazing resume. 

Seriously, check out his IMDB page, Kyle Gallner

Nathaniel once described Rachel Getting Married as “Nathaniel Getting Hugged.”  I feel that Wet Hot American Summer is Alex Getting Loved Passionately.  I’ll snuggle up with Wet Hot American Summer any season.

Also, Sluts Rock.

Summertime Chills: Teeth

Robert G from Sketchy Details here with a look at a bizarre and refreshing horror film for those hot summer days.

I just have to ask: can't we get just one horror film where a trip to a large body of water doesn't spell disaster? Whether it's shark attacks, masked killers, or ancient monsters from the deep, water in a summer horror film is a bad thing. The younger the characters are, the more diastrous the events will be

Teeth is not an exception to this rule. The strange horror/dark comedy hybrid follows the story of Dawn, a high school abstinence advocate opening herself up for the first time to relationships. She meets a nice boy named Tobey who seems different from the rest. He's kind, sweet, and is not pressuring Dawn to do anything she doesn't want to do.

Of course they wind up in a big body of water. How could late summer fun like this turn bad?

Easy. 

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Why, O Why, Don't I Love "Paris"?

Hallo folks! Ester here. You might remember me from such previous forays into Film Experience as my "Reader Spotlight" and my Two Stars, One Slot tribute piece, "Waif vs. Waif: Mia Wasikowska vs. Saoirse Ronan." Today I come to you with a feminist chip on my shoulder and a spark of rage in my eye, and my target is Woody Allen -- specifically his tepid time-travel fantasy, Midnight in Paris.

It's not surprising that Hollywood, the quintessential vehicle of nostalgia, is obsessed with landmarks. Jack Nicholson has only to get up in the morning and put his shoes on the right feet four shooting days out of five to get nominated for an Oscar, because Hollywood is just so gosh darn grateful an old-school movie star like him is still gracing films with his presence. Similarly, Woody Allen has only to make a movie that is not truly godawful terrible to make every film critic in the US sigh happily about how the maestro has done it again. 

Even then, by the way, he still makes several insufferable stabs at cinema for every Vicky Cristina Barcelona (or Scoop, which I actually kind of enjoyed).  

I understand the impulse to make ourselves hoarse praising the man. After all, we're talking about Woody Allen, auteur extraordinaire, Oscar-winner, redefiner of comedy, granddaddy to a thousand less-talented copy-cat narcissists. He's so prolific he probably doesn't even remember making one of my favorites of his films, the wistful and imaginative Purple Rose of Cairo. (Such small, delightful movies are often called "gems," which confuses me as gems come in all sizes; in fact, a woman I know recently received one that may weigh more than she does. But that's neither here nor there.)

Friends, a mediocrity is a mediocrity, whether it comes from Shakespeare or Dan Brown. Why do we insist on grading Woody Allen on a curve?

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