I went to the Toronto Film Festival to talk about a film I wrote and plan to make this winter or next. I have been putting together the film for a while, and working at the festivals is hard. It is in fact somewhat insane in the particular. The activity is anarchic. It can almost be chaos. Chaos theory, which states random actions – chaos – have a purpose and are a system, is in play in the film industry.
Stepping back from the particular though, the festivals – and the process of building a film –make sense. The end result of the chaos is the creation of teams, which work to make films. The films eventually come back to the festival and can be overwhelmingly beautiful and powerful. Chaos theory in action.
This festival I carved out time to see films. I have not done that before; I have been surrounded by films at festivals but simply went from meeting to meeting. I felt guilty going to see movies when I could be working. I decided in Toronto I needed to take the time to see why I was doing what I was doing. There are two films I saw which have stuck with me.
One film I saw is “Another Year”, by Mike Leigh, which I saw only because it was a Mike Leigh Film. I knew nothing about it walking into the screening. It was a joy.
Since building a film is chaos, to see a film, all calm and quiet, even when it makes uncomfortable noise, is remarkable.
The story is interesting. The script is beautiful. The cinematography is soft and non-intrusive but also beautiful. The acting is exact and so conversational I felt I was in a living room listening to a private conversation. The direction is subtle but therefore unbelievably dramatic and powerful. I can’t stop thinking about the movie and it is days ago now.
I honestly believe this film has changed me; made me calmer and made me focus on different aspects of life – it has given me a fresh perspective. I don’t know the last time a film had such an impact. I believe it is the goal of film to touch us and make us think. Well, Mr. Leigh well done. This is an impressive and a lovely film.
Another terrific experience was “The King’s Speech”. A completely different experience, it is beautifully shot with deep color and strong images. The conversations between the lead characters – played it seems joyfully by Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush – is almost choreographed. The two literally fly around each other. It is a physical film with tons of action, but the action is all through conversation and interaction. I just read it won the People’s Choice Award at Toronto. Well done.
The experience of seeing this film was not limited to what was on the screen. I went to the ‘gala opening.’ I was able to do this by sitting the ‘rush line,’ which means I lined up two hours before the film. I did not know about the rush line before joining it. At Toronto, anyone can get in a line without a ticket for any film. Just before the lights go down the Festival team allows enough people into the film from the rush line so all seats are full in the theater.
When I arrived at the theater for “The King’s Speech” as I said I knew nothing about this. I was just outside the Roy Thomson Hall – Toronto’s Symphony Hall – about to walk in when a volunteer saw my festival badge and asked if she could help. She told me my badge entitled me to a ticket and was about to send me blocks away to get in line when I woman sitting on a concrete wall near us spoke up.
“You can rush it too.”
“Pardon.”
“You can rush it. Sit here with me. I’m first in the rush line.” She then explained the rush system. We were joined quickly by three other women and the five of us sat and talked. Each of these women was a long time festival volunteers. By volunteering they are given vouchers for the films. All were oldish and all loved cinema. Their tastes ranged but the common love of movies was strong. I talked mostly with a woman named Arlene, who has been a volunteer with the festival for a long time.
As we sat and talked the line formed behind us and soon numbered in the hundreds. People waited calmly on a concrete wall hoping to get a ticket for a premier of a new movie. No one was clamoring or pushing. No one was worried, although clearly not all would get in.
I sat with my new friends in the late-summer Toronto sun. Shortly before the film was to start people with tickets began to offer them to the rush line, as Arlene had said they would, and Arlene and I were now at the very head of the line. I don’t think I’ve ever been first in line for anything.
Quickly, as the lights were dimming in the hall, we were each handed a priority ticket, meaning we’d be sitting in the orchestra section with the Hollywood and London crowd. Arlene said in all her years going to festival screenings this had never happened. We ran – rushed – from our sidewalk perch through the doors past the ushers and into the theater. We searched the rows for our seats – perfect.
We were just to the left of center of the massive screen, about twenty rows back. And the screen was massive – easily fifty feet tall. As we sat down the director, Tom Hooper, walked to center stage. He spoke briefly about his new movie, admitting he’d only finished it a few days before. Colin Firth then came and joined him and we all sang happy birthday to Mr. Firth. Geoffrey Rush came on stage. A few more words were spoken, the filmmakers walked off, the curtain opened and the lights went down.
To see cinema in that way – a massive screen in a beautiful hall with overwhelmingly beautiful sound and a thrilled and anticipatory audience – is a singular experience. At two points during the screening this group of over two thousand film lovers burst into spontaneous applause. The first time we burst into applause just before a crowd on screen did the same. It was odd and exciting for the action of the audience to mirror the action on the screen. It was like being inside the image. It was terrific.
Mr. Hooper achieved something outstanding in this film. The story builds to a moment when the young king, played by Colin Firth, must deliver a rousing speech at the outset of the Second World War. Giving the speech is in itself a singular achievement and a core point of the film; the words of the speech – a real speech delivered by the King as WWII broke out – are in their own right moving; but the singular achievement is the third thing, the use of images and characters to create a montage of reaction to the words. It was spellbinding. This montage late in the film, set against the real words of a pivotal historical speech, was simply perfect.
It has happened to me only a few times – not just suspension of disbelief while watching a movie but the sense of an actual transference to the place of the story. It is a powerful emotion and, coupled with a terrific story and a well-built film, an experience I will remember.
The film ended and we gave it a standing ovation. Above Arlene and me, in the balcony just above our heads, were Mr. Rush, Mr. Firth and Mr. Hooper. We watched them react to us reacting. They were moved.
Arlene and I left the theater together and then we said our goodbyes. I was off to an industry party, which was a complete let down after the cinema. I wish I’d stayed at the theater and maybe gone out for a meal with my new friend. The film deserved to be discussed.
If nothing else happened all week in Toronto I would have been satisfied. As it is, much happened and I am happy and satisfied. I hope over the next few months to take the frenetic of the festival and turn it into a film. To build something one tenth of these two films will be okay with me. Turning the chaos into purpose is all I need.
David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2010 David Rocchio
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