Film festival exhaustion? Yes, undoubtedly so. No complaints though; it has been an embarrassment of riches. Between the cold I’ve been fighting and the thunderhead that rolled in over Toronto around sundown, my head was pitching a fit from around 2 in the afternoon till just about now, threatening to burst, but I just couldn’t help it – it was warm, and it finally feels like spring, and yet another film festival was calling. When the clouds finally break open all the pressure in my head snaps in a rush. I got myself a cup of coffee and an Empire magazine and stood in line outside the Bader to finally join Hot Docs on its eighth day, for back-to-back screenings of the two films I’ve most been looking forward to in the program, Sexy Baby and The Queen of Versailles. And Sasha and Jonny and Courtney showed up for a while and hung out, and when the line went in I snugged myself away in one of the solo seats off to the side, and life is good.
If I’m not quite yet sick of movies, I’m certainly sick of their ads – The Avengers and Prometheus and The Dark Knight Rises chief among them. The decisions being made here are wearying. (What? The Avengers needs this level of support to break through?) But summer is finally arriving and I inevitably feel like a kid all over again. A year ago I was anticipating the shuddering calamity of a Pirates 4. Now I feel the red blood pumps of The Avengers; contemplate the mysteries of Ridley Scott’s return to LV-426; and feel the wintery chill of Nolan’s last Batman movie. Hollow pursuits? I don’t hold much enthusiasm for that line of intellectual snobbery. Make use of all the beats on your iPod, not just the slow ones.Read more