Saturday 18 September 2021

A Hot Mess From France and Love and Loss From Britain


Editor's Note: For the fifth 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. While TIFF is offering in-person and drive-in experiences all over the downtown core, neither one of them is yet ready to sit in a theatre with other potential Delta vectors, even though every patron is masked and vaxxed. The roster, while not nearly as robust as in previous years, still offers some wonderful choices so they have increased their number of films to view to six.  Because they are old and, as previously stated congregating in a movie theatre is anathema in this still raging 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 calls that will be answered during the viewing of these world premieres are from Molly or Talia because grandchildren rule. TIFF still serves as a tremendous distraction from the world's ills and allows for some much-needed escapism during these tumultuous times. The next several posts will focus exclusively on TIFF and will offer very quick bullet point reviews for the movies seen. You've all been warned.

It was double feature day. We built in a hiatus for Yom Kippur and, as a result, had some trouble fitting in the movies we wanted to see. We have done doubleheaders before at TIFF. Usually, it means sprinting from one cinema to another and arriving breathless and sweaty for the second film. When one does TIFF digitally, a two-film day merely requires a ten-minute break to pee and gather snacks. In all honesty, we would have been happier with one movie because the first one was a hot mess.

We have entered into the world cinema phase of our TIFF '21 experience. We always like to choose films from the foreign language repertoire for several reasons. Filmmaking is a worldwide art form. In our experience, films that are made outside of the North American (read: American) lens are usually fresher, more original, and with stories that we have never before seen. They are more often than not independent and outside of the studio system. American filmmakers will often snatch up the best of these and remake them in watered-down English language copies. For my money, it is always important to check in on the world cinema selections at TIFF. That said, our first foray this season into this genre was a bomb. France is the story of a narcissistic, fame-loving television news reporter/anchor who cannot seem to ever get enough adoration from her fawning fans. She puts her work over family, is egged on by her social media-obsessed assistant, and is an empty vessel for anything other than her own narratives. She stage directs her reports, re-positions her interview subjects to manipulate the stories, and is more of a celebrity than a journalist. How many times can the audience watch her take selfies with fans? It grows mouldy very quickly. There is a real opportunity here for director/writer Bruno Dumont to create a real satire on the problems of modern television journalism but unfortunately, he veers off into so many tangents and subplots that the movie loses its centre. New characters pop up without explanation and crappy things happen for no reason. Bond girl Léa Seydoux is dour and miserable as the leading lady and she changes her clothes so often, it felt more like I was watching a fashion show than a film. (I counted at least 12 different coats. Who in the world has 12 different coats?) The movie is a morose morass that left us wondering why we wasted over two hours watching it. If we didn't have to read the subtitles, we both would have been sound asleep. 

Dawn and The Husband give France two hot and deep NOPES.

We fared far better with our second film of the day. I generally love a good British period piece and Mothering Sunday checks off all of the boxes. Featuring wonderful performances by promising young actors Odessa Young and Josh O'Connor (The Crown), Mothering Sunday is a steamy adaptation of Graham Swift's novella set in inter-war Britain. The film follows Jane, a young maid in service, through three generations as she navigates life, love, and loss all while developing her inner artist. This film is one of the most sensual and frankly hottest movies I've seen in a long time and yet, every scene was directed with sensitivity and purpose by Eva Husson. She literally strips her characters naked and it gives their conversations and movements a tinge of ache and realism. But above all, Mothering Sunday is about loss and how we cope with grief. In one extraordinary scene, Jane's boss, played masterfully by Olivia Colman, is recalling her own heartache at the loss of her son during the war. She comments on Jane's upbringing in an orphanage and tells her to be grateful for it. "You are totally bereaved from birth. You have nothing to lose and never shall,” she tells Jane during this poignant exchange. Of course, that is a simplistic view of one woman's anguish and the film's future tragedies prove that grief is never definable. While we see Jane mature as both a woman and an artist, we never really see her art but we know that it is superb. Mothering Sunday isn't a perfect movie but it is a really good one and I loved that such accomplished actors like Colman, Colin Firth, and Glenda Jackson took small supporting roles simply to be a part of it. I urge you to see this film. It is well worth your time.

Dawn and The Husband give Mothering Sunday two very enthusiastic YUPS. We both loved it. 

**Our last film is this evening. The final review will be published tomorrow. Thanks, TIFF.**




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