Editor's Note: For the fourth consecutive year, Dawn and The Husband will be spending a few nights attending the Toronto International Film Festival, known to the locals as TIFF. While they can now proudly call themselves seasoned veterans at this madness, CoVid-19 has altered how films will be screened this year. TIFF has also dramatically scaled back their roster and as such, they have selected a very modest number of films, (3)+1. Because they are old and congregating in a movie theatre is anathema in this pandemic time, all films will be screened from the comfort of their living room complete with popcorn, a few homemade treats, and lights appropriately dimmed. The only phone call that will be answered during the viewing of these world premieres is from Molly because grandchildren rule. TIFF still serves as a tremendous distraction from the world's ills, the impending High Holidays, and an asshole would-be dictator whose names rhyme with Dump. The next several posts will focus exclusively on TIFF and will offer very quick bullet point reviews for the world premiere movies seen.
We have been very happy to participate in TIFF this year. Knowing that the pandemic has laid waste to the entertainment industry and that audience participation in any way, shape, or form is a huge challenge, we were excited to do something that would lend our support to the creative arts. The fact that TIFF was offering a digital menu for the first time and that we could view many of the offerings from the safe comfort of our living room, was a blessing. Yes, there is no question that we are missing the collective experience of viewing a brand-spanking-new film with like-minded people. We are bereft of the excitement that goes with in-person questions and answers from the directors and actors and worst of all, we are really saddened by the lack of buzz and excitement that exists up and down King Street during the festival. TIFF is a huge money-maker for the city and it is our neighbourhood's summer festival. There is a melancholy this year that just cannot be understood unless you have experienced it.
It is why I cannot understand why the powers that be at TIFF have made the digital theatre so onerous. You would think that this year, of all years, they would want to introduce their product to new festival-goers. Grab them now and get them again next year. Rather, they have messed people around so much that it lends credence to the argument that the festival has become far too elitist. They have limited digital tickets and actually sell-out many films which totally baffles me. You would think that they would want to try and recoup some of the financial losses that they certainly are suffering through. Also, unlike in-person viewings, the digital theatre offerings only have a 24-hour window. If you miss it, you are out of luck. There isn't a possibility, at least as of yet, to view desired films outside of those designated windows. Again, with only fifty films that are being screened, it seems like killing off the financial genie. And, once again, the technology of screening these films is confusing and less than optimum. There are a whole lot of hoops to jump through to get the film off the computer link and onto a TV-sized screen. It really isn't easy but I live with a techie, thanks to the Divine Spirit.
In that vein, we decided to add one more movie to our TIFF lineup and purchased digital tickets for last evening's showing of Concrete Cowboy. To be perfectly honest, this film had me at Idris Elba. Aside from his extraordinary talent, he makes the backs of my knees sweat. I'm having a bit of the vapours right now as I'm recalling him in his tight cowboy jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt. Oh, my. The movie takes the typical "absent father trying to mentor a hostile teenage son" genre and puts it in front of the backdrop of a rarely seen subculture of Philadelphia; that of the urban black cowboys who keep and care for horses right in the middle of the city. Who knew? Certainly not me. The first viewing of Elba's Harp's apartment, with a white stallion occupying the living room, was simply jarring. Horses. In the poorest neighbourhoods of Philly. With urban stables. As the story advances, we learn that this lifestyle has existed in the community for over a hundred years and that the generational pull of the people who find peace there has historical and cultural significance. 15-year-old Caleb McLaughlin, all lanky arms and legs since his Netflix's Stranger Things days, plays troubled teen, Cole who is dumped on his father's doorstep after yet another mishap at school. Through a series of predictable tough-love incidents, Cole bonds with an angry horse at the Fletcher Street stables and learns difficult lessons from the streets of his new home. It is all very predictable but it has Idris Elba on a horse, so...yeah. Bringing in some of the real Fletcher Street cowboys into the cast was a smart move by director Ricky Staub. The depth of their feelings to their vanishing heritage is obvious on the screen.
I love hearing stories of people and places that have been existing outside of my bubble. Concrete Cowboy acts as the vessel for just such a unique story. I kind of wish that the father/son dynamic was less formulaic and that the lessons learned less obvious.
Dawn and The Husband give Concrete Cowboy two middling YUPS. The YUPS are for the unique backdrop and for Idris Elba. The actual story is missing something.
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