toronto film festival Tagged Articles at Cinematical

Even if you're not a resident of Utah, you've surely heard of companies like "Clean Flicks" before. Like, for example, in the virtual pages of this very blog. It's a prickly subject among movie fans, and that's probably an understatement. Basically, several companies in Utah have taken it upon themselves to edit all the "objectionable" material out of Hollywood's hottest films, and many in the Mormon community are more than happy to throw those discs into their DVD players, secure in the knowledge that Braveheart will be less bloody, that Forrest Gump never felt a female embrace, and that Sally Albright never had a fake orgasm in a New York deli.

OK, that's the last batch of lopsided editorializing for me, because while (obviously) I am dead-set opposed to censorship in cinema, I can also empathize with a religious culture that wishes to avoid things they find objectionable. And regardless of my oh-so-open-minded belief system, the plain fact is that we're not here to talk about the Clean Flicks companies. The subject this time around is a new documentary called Cleanflix, a film that attempts to tell the whole tale from beginning to end (and mostly does a fine job of it), but also manages to wander way off-track before all is said and done.

I love Terry Gilliam. I know that film critics aren't supposed to open a review with such an obvious and subjective opinion, so call the press police. I'm guilty. From his Monty Python work to Time Bandits to Brazil and all points thereafter, Mr. Gilliam has been one of my very favorite storytellers and movie-makin' educators. His silliness and darkness, surreality and sweetness, his sense of adventure of endearing youthfulness ... he's just one of those filmmakers who truly "speak" to me, and I know I'm not alone in my affection for his varied and eclectic works.

Having said that, I now say this: I haven't thought much of the man's last three films. I've tried (and tried) to foster an affection for Fear and Loathing..., but for the most part it just won't take. I struggled through Tideland at the Toronto Film Festival one year and quite simply did not like the film. At all. And The Brothers Grimm felt, to me (of course), like surface-level Gilliam that had much of its soul torn out thanks to too many cooks cooped up in Gilliam's own kitchen.

So there's where I'm at, Gilliam-wise. Oh, except for his new film, The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, which feels sort of like a favorite uncle just burst through the door, smiling and loaded with nifty presents. (So his last few visits weren't so hot; he's still your favorite uncle.) To this lifelong Gilliam devotee, Imaginarium feels like it was cut from the same imagination cloth that also produced The Adventures of Baron Munchausen and (at least in part) his classic adventure Time Bandits. Only this time out, the filmmaker has the limitless capabilities of CGI to use as a palette -- and if you've seen how imaginative Terry Gilliam can be with "practical" effects, then you'll probably be eye-dazzled by Imaginarium's finest moments.

If you're about to dig into a mid-'90s "period piece" about a plain nebbish at a food additive company who decides to blow the whistle on his corporation's illegal price-fixing practices, well, you better get a few interesting people to bring this sort of story to the screen. With a leading man less reliable than Matt Damon and a director less colorfully unpredictable than Steven Soderbergh, a flick like this could play like a well-meaning but hopelessly yawn-worthy docu-drama. Happily, since The Informant! boasts both of those filmmakers (and a big handful of others), it turns out to be a seriously entertaining film ... about a seriously plain man.

Damon plays Mark Whitacre, a high-ranking suit for a chemical company called ADM. Essentially, these guys create all sorts of wonderful food additives, and the focal point this time around is a corn product called lysine. Only problem is that ADM and virtually all of its executives, not to mention their competitors, are knee-deep in a global "price-fixing" scheme, which (in case you didn't know) is all sorts of illegal. But while Mark seems more than willing to narc on his colleagues, simply because it's the right thing to do, it quickly becomes evident that our semi-hero is hiding more than a few skeletons inside his own closet.

Diablo Cody has been popping up on magazine covers in anticipation of her upcoming horror flick, Jennifer's Body. So far she's hit BUST Magazine's August/September issue, and the September issue of INKED, and of course there will be plenty of Ms. Cody to go around at this year's Toronto Film Festival, where Jennifer's Body will have its world premiere.

Jennifer's Body is a unique beast because it was written and directed by women, with Cody behind the script and Girlfight's Karyn Kusama directing. Cody is also the executive producer. Naturally, Cody has plenty to say about Jennifer's Body and how it relates to women – and feminism – in the latest issue of BUST. A brief excerpt is as follows:

"It's really about girl-on-girl crime. It's Mean Girls taken to an extreme. When the alpha girl becomes cannibal-like, nitpicking is no longer enough. Now she literally has to consume flesh." (p. 40)

Later the self-professed feminist says, "The movie also references eating disorders. Jennifer's eating habits revolve around a binge-purge cycle... She actually throws up before she eats. She's possessed. She vomits disgusting black bile on her victims before she eats them. But in one of my favorite scenes, she's binge-eating out of her refrigerator. I thought to myself, 'Man, if we aren't getting it across...' I was happy about that." (p. 43)

It must be said, right off the bat: We all have bad days, we all behave obnoxiously sometimes, and (once in a while) we all do really stupid things that we regret big-time three seconds later. Having said that, it simply must be asked: Lou Lumenick ... what the &%!#$ing &$)# were you thinking? I hesitate to even write about this story, but since a dozen other movie sites have picked up on it, we'd be a little tacky if we just brushed it under the carpet. Plus, hey, it's interesting.

Anyway, according to various sources, NY Post film critic Lou Lumenick got into a brief altercation with Chicago Sun-Times film critic Roger Ebert during a press screening at the Toronto Film Festival. More specifically (and allegedly, I suppose I should say), it seems that Lou ignored numerous shoulder taps from Roger, and then -- in a fit of full-bore film critic snittiness -- whirled around and landed a half-solid pop on Ebert's noggin, er, knee. The weapon was some sort of portfolio or rolled-up program.

For his part, Roger Ebert has been (as usual) the epitome of class. At first he tried to keep the situation quiet, but once word got out, he penned this explanation. And since the guy already has a Pultizer, I say he now deserves a nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize. Because let me tell you right now: If I was struck silent by a throat malady and the PROFESSIONAL FILM WATCHER in front of me refused to turn around and at least acknowledge my simple request, well, then I suspect we'd be reading blog posts about how "Cinematical Film Critic Scott Weinberg Just Wrapped a Fire Hydrant Around the Head of an Unidentifiable Man."

And for HIS part, Lou Lumenick has remained distressingly silent. Whether or not the guy was dead-wrong or drop-dead apologetic, there's no excuse for him not addressing the story by this point. Something along the lines of "Dear sweet lord, was I an asshole the other morning. I'm really, truly sorry" published on the New York Post editorial page should just about do it. Me? I'd have written that email six minutes after the incident occurred. Before sending it to every movie site, blog, and message board in the universe.

It's been clear for several weeks now that the independent distribution company THINKfilm has been suffering from some money troubles. Around the time the Cannes Film Festival kicked off this month, blogger AJ Schnack assembled reports from various sources that the company owed a lot of money to many different places. Now, Nikkie Finke reports that Allied Advertising Ltd. filed a lawsuit in Los Angeles Superior Court today against THINKfilm owner David Bergstein, claiming that THINKfilm failed to pay for Allied's advertising services in a timely manner, while the distributor pretended that wasn't the case. A serious problem indeed.

It's a little unfair, however, for Allied to complain about THINKfilm's decision to continue doing what they do best -- buying films. The lawsuit says that the company embarked on a "lavish film licensing buying spree at various film festivals around the world," rather than exclusively focusing on paying off debt. It's worth noting that THINKfilm remained fairly withdrawn at Cannes this year, and while they did pick up theatrical rights for Marina Zenovich's Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired at Sundance, the film already had a television deal in place with HBO. Meanwhile, the company has dropped Battle in Seattle, which it originally purchased at the Toronto Film Festival. The "buying spree" sounds like needless exaggeration on Allied's part. Whatever the case, given THINKfilm's track record (they did guide Ryan Gosling to his Half Nelson Oscar nod), one hopes they'll survive this nasty legal snafu.

Sometimes you walk out of a festival movie and wonder precisely WHY it was afforded a slot in the first place. Not because the movie's a rotten piece of junk, but because it's just kinda ... there. Standard, familiar, predictable, meh. And certainly nothing you'd expect to find at one of the most prestigious film festivals in the world. But then I remembered that Ernie Barbarash's They Wait is a Canadian-produced thriller -- and also that the Toronto Film Festival does like to spread a little love to the local guys.

So that explains why a perfectly watchable but in no way superior little chiller like They Wait earns a spot. Last year it was the surprisingly effective End of the Line, and this year it's the dry but half-decent They Wait. Anyway, here's the plot: Jaime King and Terry Chen are a married couple with a young son named Sammy. They're required to travel from Shanghai to Canada to attend the funeral of a beloved uncle, but poor little Sammy stumbles across an ancient (undead) secret that you'll be able to figure out less than 45 seconds after the plot threads are introduced. It's like "J-Horror Lite," if that works as any sort of selling point.

Noah Baumbach's The Squid and the Whale, a semi-autobiographical film about a Brooklyn family's experience with divorce, was the sleeper indie hit of 2005, and after its success Baumbach shot to prominence as a director to watch. His highly anticipated follow-up effort, Margot at the Wedding, returns to similar themes of family love and loathing; it stars Nicole Kidman as Margot, a high-strung writer who, along with her son Claude (Zane Pais), goes on a pilgrimage of sorts to her childhood home, where her estranged sister (Baumbach's wife Jennifer Jason Leigh) is marrying an unemployed painter (Jack Black) she just met. Baumbach -- who, it must be noted, bears an uncanny resemblance to Adrien Brody -- sat down with us in Toronto to talk about New York, family dynamics and just what's up with all those masturbation scenes.

Cinematical: After Squid and the Whale, a lot of people looked at you as a Brooklyn artist, the way they might look at someone like Jonathan Lethem. Did you have any temptation to make another movie set in Brooklyn, or did you deliberately move away from that?

Noah Baumbach: It wasn't deliberate or not deliberate -- I started writing this movie and it became what it was. It wasn't a response to anything in particular. I feel a real connection to Brooklyn, certainly, because I spent 20 years of my life there, but I don't think of myself as a Brooklyn artist any more than I think of myself as a male artist. I will say that when people would respond to Squid with a kind of Brooklyn-centric reaction I was pleased with that, because obviously Brooklyn means a lot to me.

Like most folks who enjoy the art of screenwriting, I'm a pretty big Paul Schrader fan. So when I heard that the writer / director's latest film would be playing at the Toronto Film Festival, I drew a big, red circle around the title. "You know what it's about, don't you?" a friend of mine asked me, to which I responded "Kinda. Woody Harrelson plays a gay D.C. socialite who covers up a murder and lives to regret it, or something like that." OK, good point: Doesn't exactly sound like my cup of tea, plot-wise -- but hey, it's Paul Schrader.

I just figure after Taxi Driver, American Gigolo, Raging Bull, The Last Temptation of Christ and the highly-underrated Light Sleeper, Mr. Schrader has earned the benefit of the doubt. And yes, that's taking into account his last few screenplays. But it turns out my friend was right: The Walker is about a gay rich guy who lives off his family's money and acts as a friend / companion / alibi to many of Washington D.C.'s most important housewives. Carter Page plays canasta with swanky gals played by Kristin Scott Thomas, Lily Tomlin and Lauren Bacall -- and they all seem to love their amusingly non-threatening companion. But when one of the ladies' lovers ends up dead, Carter starts lying to the police to protect his "friends" and quickly discovers his true place in the beltway hierarchy.