Servitude

Rating: ***

On several levels, the new comedy Servitude just makes sense. On the one hand, it’s a comedy about waiters revolting against impertinent, ignorant customers, and who hasn’t been up to that line? On the other hand though, at least in the back of my mind, was the age old cliché about how out-of-work actors wait tables till their proverbial ship comes in, and wouldn’t you know it, one of the characters is an out-of-work actor. But at its heart, Servitude is just a fun little comedy in the vain of Office Space, a workers’ rebellion with all the enjoyment of sticking it to the man without any of those icky Marxist undertones.

We meet Josh (Joe Dinicol), an upstanding young man trying to prove himself by working three years as a waiter to build character, per his father’s request, before getting a full ride to law school. His girlfriend Jenny (Kristen Hager) is on him about quitting, but Josh hasn’t “found the right time.” But per Jenny’s ultimate though, tonight’s going to be the night, though before Josh can quit this time, his boss Godfrey (Dave Foley) persuades him to work the first part of the night to help out. The restaurant, one of chain called The Ranch Steakhouse, is getting a once over by a corporate flack (Enrico Colantoni) from their new German parent company.

Of course nothing ends up going to plan, otherwise there would be no comedy. Dinicol is an affable enough leading man, and he guides us through the various characters and dilemmas, not to mention his own drama as Josh, with a degree of grace and style. As the film’s emotional centre, and its only real straightman, Dinicol still manages to come off as funny and charming. Dinicol’s two main partners in crime are John Bregar as horn dog Tommy, and Jeigh Madjus as the actor-in-waiting Simon. They make a formidable trio, and are able lead the rest of the film’s cast through the plot.

Lending support to the young actors is a diverse cast of veteran comedic actors in various roles be they secondary or cameo. Prominent among them is Dave Foley, who, although having made some questionable movie choices lately (like Uwe Boll’s horrid Postal), acquits himself well as Godfrey, a man kind of burnt out on whatever dreams and ambitions he once had, only to now find himself a corporate toady. But he plays well off Enrico Colantoni as German boss Franz, who’s a broad stereotype (“I’m very interested in your ovens,” he says repeatedly), but Colantoni plays it straight to make it work.

Indeed, it is the actors that make this film work as well as it does, they form an extremely effective team, and are all very comfortable with each other. In my interview with Joe Dinicol he described the experience on set as being similar to what it must have been like to work on Cheers, which makes sense because this cast makes it look like they’ve been playing these roles for years.

Because of that, occasional instances of contrived and stale humour can be forgiven. There was a crack about the WNBA and a fairly obvious site gag that called back the first Mission: Impossible film, and for a minute, I thought it was 1998 all over again. The characters play across broad stereotypes: Tommy’s a horn dog, Simon the actor is flamboyantly gay, Jenny is shrill and disagreeable, so when the much more laid back and fun Alex (Rachel Skarsten) enters the picture, you know where the story’s going. Degrassi’s Lauren Collins is fun as the uptight hostess Krissy, and Aaron Ashmore has a surprisingly good jerk of a turn playing Jen’s ex come to The Ranch to mock Josh.

And that’s the key here. The film is a great showcase for the cast, and manages to mine a lot of comedy, whether you see it coming or not, out of the nearly absurdist concept of a restaurant workers revolt. It might nearly be the Waiting… for the Occupy generation, but let’s not go crazy assigning any kind of greater ambition other than to entertain. It may not be wholly original, but Servitude is definitely serviceable.

Down the Road Again

Rating: ***1/2

Forty-one years is a long time to wait for a sequel, and if you’re one of the people checking out Down the Road Again in limited release across Canada this weekend, then chances are good that you weren’t even born when its predecessor, Goin’ Down the Road, was released in 1970. One of the most seminal films in Canadian cinematic history, Goin’ Down the Road is often cited as influence and inspiration for many filmmakers from Canada and around the world.

Looking at Goin’ Down the Road from 2011, it seems like a perfect storm of a movie; it was made for a shoe-string budget, it had a light and mobile crew, the bustling streets of Toronto, which then, as now, had yet to be fully realized as itself on film, and a solid, scrappy group of actors who brought the material to life with an earnestness that matched the natural, realistic way the film was shot. Surprisingly, given the open ended way the film ended, doing a sequel seemed almost unnecessary as the first film itself was complete. Two men’s hopes and dreams for a better life turn to desperation and they ended up running further then they originally intended, abandoning anything good that they might have had, with the exception of each other. Done. End scene.

That’s where Down the Road Again comes in. It’s the answer to the question you asked in the back of your mind after seeing Goin’ Down the Road, especially in more recent years: What the heck happened to old Pete and Joey anyway? One can see Again on it’s own, but I think to appreciate the full flavour of what Donald Shebib has accomplished, one must see the first film as well, and if you’ve already seen it you should re-visit it again. The two films are opposite sides of the same coin; one film is about everything falling apart, and this one is about putting it back together again.

The film opens with a cover of Bruce Cockburn’s soulful theme “Goin’ Down the Road,” and we see an aged Pete McGraw (Doug McGrath) making his daily rounds as a mail carrier. On the brink of retirement, Pete is trying to decide what to do next; he has no wife, no family and he’s thousands of miles away from where he began. A letter from his old friend Joey makes Pete nostalgic, especially since Joey reveals that he’s about to go into the hospital for cancer surgery. It’s all the more surprising when Pete learns that Joey dies in-operation, and that he’s left three letters, an envelope full of cash, and one last request of his old friend.

One of Shebib’s best moves in this film is to fill it with the ghost of the late Paul Bradley. Bradley died in 2003, but Joey’s voiceover in the film is done by Eric Peterson. Peterson does a pretty good approximation of Joey, and creates a nice rapport with McGrath as he reads from Joey’s letters aloud in a voiceover. Better still are scenes where McGrath is left to perform the dyad between Pete and Joey alone, as you really get that sense of loss and regret that can sometimes bring you to the verge of tears.

McGrath’s fellow returnees from Goin’ Down the Road are also welcome sights. Jayne Eastwood as Joey’s ex Betty plays bitter well, but without it being over-powering, and Cayle Chernin, who sadly passed away earleir this year after her own fight with cancer, is good with Eastwood as their own duo, and Chernin, I think, plays up a hint that Selina may be quietly having fun being the outside observer of the film’s developments. The emotion of the film is powered by these veteran actors, who atypically have some meaty material to work with in this movie.

For the youngins though there’s new characters portrayed by Kathleen Robertson and Anthony Lemke. Robertson is Betty and Joey’s grown daughter Betty Jo, and she ends up joining Pete on his trek to Cape Breton to spread Joey’s ashes, while Lemke plays Joey’s attorney in Nova Scotia, who delivers one final surprise for Pete from Joey. Both actors are fine, though likely overwhelmed by the company and legacy they find themselves in. But Robertson is a standout and holds her own against both McGrath and Eastwood by playing both sides of sarcastic and sweet, independent but vulnerable.

The film itself is pretty solid, but if the original movie played up realism in all its harsh, though non-judgmental light, then this sequel has a kind of fairy tale aspect to it that while emotionally winning, doesn’t quite fit tonally with where the story began. I think ultimately though the movie makes you forget all that. The actors carry the film and it’s through them and their performances you live the story. Conversations about realism are almost academic in that context, but if there is a touch of fantasy in the film there’s still a sense that it’s well earned.

But the surprising thing about Down the Road Again is that it makes the idea of a sequel to a film made so long ago seem indispensable. Questions that you didn’t even think you asked in the first film are answered in the second. Plus, Shebib fulfills the first justification for a sequel: it needs to convince you that there’s still more story to tell. In the case of this film, it’s a heart-warming story about family, friendship, and how you’re never too old for second chances.

All around, Down the Road Again is an impressive accomplishment in just getting to the screen, the fact that it’s an engaging and charming story is just icing on the cake. Go to http://downtheroadmovies.com/ for screening times and locations.

TIFF – Keyhole

Rating: ****

So far as Guy Maddin movies go, Keyhole is almost comprehendible, which despite the artistry and skill of the film is still kind of a disappointment because if there’s one thing you never want to be able to do in a Guy Maddin movie, it’s follow along. You see, a Maddin movie is one of those experiences where you want to leave the theatre and ask somebody what they thought and nod knowingly as if what he’s describing is exactly the same thing you think you saw and you don’t want to look like an idiot.

Keyhole is a stream on consciousness movie. It’s about life and death, and secrets and lies, and regrets and reconsiderations. Taking place entirely in an ethereal plain made up to look like your typical North American home. The various players appear to be an assortment of characters from the 1930s, gangsters mostly, hold up in a house during a police siege. It’s the end of the line, but the boss Ulysses does not want to fight his way out, rather there’s something he needs to accomplish in the house before the eventual raid.

Of course, that’s the straight-ahead, almost myopic perception of what the film’s all about. Being how this is a Guy Maddin film there’s layer upon layer of subtext, but there’s still this nagging bit about how I could follow along with the story. Where was the confusion? The bewilderment? The befuddlement? You know, all the staples of a Maddin classic. There was the black and white film, and odd moments of ghost falacio that remind you what world you’re playing in. And then there’s the treatment of Winnipeg as a Wonderland of an acid trip, which are all positive steps in the right direction.

This also might be Maddin’s most star-studded cast. Jason Patric plays Ulysses and throws himself into the world of Maddin with tremendous gusto. Isabella Rossellini, a veteran of the worlds of Maddin since The Saddest Music in the World, plays Ulysses’ wife Hyacinth, who fills the film with emotion and mystery. The always reliably creepy Udo Kier goes for daffy comedic, while former Kid in the Hall Kevin McDonald puts in a brief but memorable role as the loose link in Ulysses’ chain.

But like past Maddin films, Keyhole is a marvel of economy. Almost performed exclusively on the single, though complex, set of Ulysses’ house, Maddin makes the whole thing come alive thanks to the energetic performance of the cast, light camera work, and Spartan art direction. In other words, the house comes alive with both ghosts and memories; feeling that’s both nostalgic and visceral.

Walking out of the theatre, you realize that your head doesn’t have that usual ringing that a Guy Maddin film leaves you with, but that’s not to say that there wasn’t a lot to think about. There’s a surprisingly haunted quality that washes over you, and that’s despite the fact that there’s little on the surface to tie your personal experiences to the narrative and the tremendous comedy Maddin infuses the film with. Still, it’s a little nag, and that’s Maddin’s great gift, to smack you in the face with so much emotion, and so many visuals you don’t know what to believe anymore. Bravo sir.

Good Neighbours

Rating: ***1/2

Jacob Tierney’s new film Good Neighbours is about as different from his last film The Trotsky, as The Trotsky was from Tierney’s first film, Twist. What do you do with a whodunit where you know who did it somewhere around the one-third point of the movie? How can you find a likeable character amongst a group of socially awkward characters with a number of obvious psychological maladies? Is this a Hitchcokcian mind game masquerading as dark comedy, or is this a sitcom written by Stephen King? Good Neighbours is all those things, and more.

A satisfying dark comedy with a thoroughly malicious bent, the act of watching Good Neighbours is equal parts enjoyment and equal parts bewilderment. It’s one of those movies that requires a second viewing so that you can make sure that you have the details right in your head. It’s not that the film is confusing, at least not so far as the plot goes. I, personally, wasn’t even sure that I liked the film until I started talking about it with other people. If you’re someone that likes to go to the café or bar after a film and hash out the details and the meaning of certain scenes and character actions, congratulations, you’ve found your summer obsession.

The film begins against the back drop of the 1995 Quebec Referendum on sovereignty. Victor (Jay Baruchel) moves into a building in the Notre Dame de Grace neighbourhood of Montreal, and right away is introduced to Spencer (Scott Speedman), a widower who lives downstairs and is stuck in a wheel chair, and Louise (Emily Hampshire), who’s employed in Chinese restaurant, and who Victor is immediately attracted to. Spencer and Loiuse have a unique friendship, but the only thing they really talk about is a serial killer working his way through women victims around the NDG. Into their perfect little dyad comes Victor, a well-meaning school teacher that tries to make a good impression with Spencer and Louise, but doesn’t realize he’s kind of an interloper.

Based on the book by Chrystine Brouillet, Tierney’s script challenges many preconceived notions of genre and plot development, while still developing some fascinating story ideas based around these three very odd ball characters. The trouble is that a lot of it is almost too good to spoil, but needless to say, you will either find yourself bound by fascination or rolling your eyes in disbelief. The film has the potential to make the viewer go either way with the plot developments. Good Neighbours is one of those movies that doesn’t make it easy to decide who to root for, and who to root against, and to some people that’s the difference between love and hate.

Technically speaking, if The Trotsky was homage to the sunny disposition of American high school movies in the 80s, Good Neighbours is its gritty and dark 70s cousin. Aided by the predominately winter setting, there’s a palpable sense of foreboding to the way that Tierney shot the film; it reminded me of Dean Cundey’s work with John Carpenter on Halloween. Shots are very deliberate, not relying on any hand-held camera work and going purely old school with lots of tracking shots on dollies. The film doesn’t draw attention to itself, and seems mostly about telling a good, compelling story, which leaves a lot of the heavy lifting to the actors.

On that note though, Good Neighbours is fortunate in casting decisions. Baruchel buries his man-boy persona under a Grizzly Adams-style beard and a demeanour not unfamiliar to anyone that’s ever seen Woody Allen act in a movie. Speedman tackles an out of character persona portraying Spencer as bitter, a little cynical and a little malevolent. It’s a really good role for him considering his built a career on playing the nice guy that finishes first. Hampshire, who like Baruchel is a transplant from The Trotsky, is interesting as Louise, a woman that seems so detached unless she’s talking about a serial killer or her cats. Hampshire is so marvellously understated, that even Louise’s most extreme character quirks come across as endearing.

But like a lot of good movies, I think Good Neighbours will be divisive in a good way. It’s a dry, black comedy that pushes the envelope of good taste and the definitions of genre filmmaking. It’s old-fashioned filmmaking with a post-modernist twist throughout. The acting is solid, and the artistry and control by filmmaker Tierney is unquestionable. Amongst all the blustery, blockbusters of summer, Good Neighbours is a movie you can get your head around, whether you fell good doing it or not.

Hobo with a Shotgun

Rating: ***

The effect of GRINDHOUSE, the Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino experiment in resurrecting extinct forms of cinema, still reverberates. Most people agree that the best part of the whole GRINDHOUSE experiment were the fake trailers in-between the feature programs. Rodriguez already took his shot when he turned MACHETE into a full-fledged movie of its own, but now, inexplicably, it’s Jason Eisener’s turn. Eisener lucked out to begin with by winning a contest to have his original faux grindhouse trailer, HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN.

Expanded into a full feature, Eisener captures the grindhouse aesthetic with ease, and the streets of Dartmouth are an easy pass for the dirty, dingy avenues of Anywhere, American urban decay. Rutger Hauer steps into the roll as the nameless Hobo, who rides the rails and arrives at Hope Town. He’s immediately confronted with all the corruption and violence of a city run by the wicked, in this case crime boss Drake (Brian Downey) and his two sociopathic sons Slick (Gregory Smith) and Ivan (Nick Bateman). When the Hobo saves a young prostitute named Abby (Molly Dunsworth), he tries to report the criminals to the police, only to find that the police are all but owned by the crooks.

So what is a Hobo to do? Well, in this instance he performs in a bum fight to get the $50 he needs to buy his precious lawnmower from a pawn shop and get the heck out of dodge. Too bad then that this is a Hobo with a conscience, and when the hoodlums of Hope Town finally push him too far, the Hobo puts his $50 on a shotgun instead, and begins to clean up the lawless town, becoming a folk hero in the process. Of course, Drake isn’t going to take that lying down, and the whole affair escalates in one bloody mess after the other.

Oh yes, there will be blood. The movie no sooner gets started when the Hobo comes across a man who ends up getting his head squash under the tires of Slick’s car, all for the apparent amusement of Drake and his gang, and done in the style of the ancient gladiator arenas. If one thing saves the scene from complete gruesomeness, it’s the fact that the victim is Robb Wells, Ricky of THE TRAILER PARK BOYS fame. But fans of blood and guts will definitely not be disappointed. There are more than a few disembowelments and dismemberments, and the Hobos shotgun never seems to need reloading.

Fortunately, the acting is appropriately over the top and well-suited to the tone of the film. Downey is especially a stand-out as the villainous Drake, who is as dastardly a villain as one can expect from something like this. Smith, made famous as the clean cut, troubled teen from the old WB show EVERWOOD, is unrecognizable underneath big sunglasses and greasy, slicked up hair as Slick. Dunsworth, meanwhile, adds at least one touch of adorableness in a morass of ugliness. She wears the worn mantle of hooker with a heart of gold well, and would stand comfortable alongside Rose McGowan’s Cherry Darling in the modern grindhouse heroine hall of fame.

The one weak link, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, is Hauer. Now Hauer’s a class act, no question, and there’s nothing wrong with his performance per se, but it’s just a little hard to shake the knowledge that you’re watching Rutger Hauer play the Hobo with a Shotgun. He’s like a sanitized version of what the character should be, with perfect teeth and a kind of Hoboish sunny disposition. In the original trailer, the Hobo was as borderline as the crooks and criminals he was blasting away with his shotgun, and looked a little deranged while doing it. Hauer never quite gets to that level, but in exchange there’s more gravitas and seriousness. The trick is I’m not sure how well that does in tone with the rest of the movie.

But by and large, HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN is B-movie goodness; gritty, dirty and filled with high energy and enough blood and guts for three normal slasher films. It should be enormously satisfying for people with fondness for vintage grindhouse, and it manages to achieve it with very little in the way of winking at the camera, or making self-referential nods. So it can be done, but the question is can it be done again? Can the new wave of grindhouse be maintained? I guess that depends on, as always, the box office numbers.

Barney’s Version

Rating: ****

Like any good life story, the autobiography of Barney Panofsky spans times of great joy, sorrow, doubt, self-obsession, and fascination. And like the film based on it, the entire experience goes by like a breeze, it loads you with emotion and leaves you with fleeting memories as you try to hold on to the best parts. The wonderfully acted and richly photographed film version of the Mordecai Richler novel Barney’s Version is an extremely satisfying film that rewards viewers that like the complexities of human life and drama.’

Barney’s Version follows the life-long adventure of Barney Panofsky, who over the course of his life marries no less than three women. His first wife, who he marries after getting her pregnant, commits suicide after their child is stillborn. He meets his second wife years later while doing a bizarre bit of unenthusiastic fundraising for the cause of fighting Anti-Semitism, and then meets and falls for the third while at his wedding reception to his second wife. The film is replete with lessons of love won and lost, and with a potential murder mystery to boot.

At the centre of the film is a tremendous performance by Paul Giamatti as the titular character, a Jew from Montreal that often dives head first into love only to ding his head on the hard bottom of the pool. Of course that doesn’t stop him from getting right back out and trying again, and try again he does. Three times. Although he can come across as a sometimes selfish and self-indulgent character, Giamatti fills Barney with an easy likeability that makes you root for him through the screw-ups and just plain hiccups of life.

At the same time Giamatti leads a wonderful ensemble, including, first and foremost, Dustin Hoffman as Barney’s father, Izzy. Izzy could have been a caricature, but in Hoffman’s hands there’s a naturalness and ease that makes the character very grounded. Hoffman plays well off Giamatti, with the more exuberant Izzy playing well, in mismatch way, against Barney’s neurosis. Scott Speedman, meanwhile, adds another feather to his acting cap as Barney’s good friend Bernard 'Boogie' Moscovitch, a troubled writer that ends up at the centre of a darker chapter of Barney’s story. Speedman plays raw and tortured as ‘Boogie’, but still maintains his sense of charm.

Of the three wives, Rosamund Pike gets the most screen time as Barney’s third wife Miriam, so naturally she gets the most opportunity to create a well-rounded character. She’s gorgeous sure, but Pike does a really great job of portraying a lot of what goes on inside Miriam, the quiet frustrations and uncertainties that she can’t say, but nonetheless feels. Minnie Driver’s a blast as Barney’s unnamed second wife, and adds a lot of humour to the film’s middle. Rachelle Lefevre gets to stretch her acting muscles a little as the ill-fated first wife, who makes a brief but all so memorable appearance at the beginning of the film.

The technical specs are excellent thanks to the beautiful, globetrotting locales like Rome, New York City and, of course, Montreal. The cinematography by Guy Dufaux (The Trotsky) consumes every detail and renders it in loving fashion; the colours, the buildings and the foliage all create a wonderful pallet on which the drama takes place. The script by Michael Konyves doesn’t take anything for granted and director Richard J. Lewis keeps the action moving tightly, and expeditiously. The film is over two hours long, but doesn’t feel the least bit bloated. Another fun touch by Lewis is the Who’s Who cameos by a few famous Canadian filmmakers.

But in the end, Barney’s Version is a fun tear jerker, a sad clown kind of movie that is carried simply by the quality of the actors and the characters they play. The worthy Golden Globe winner Giamatti deserves every accolade in what maybe his finest performance since Sideways, and for, at the very least, making cigar smoking a colourful affectation for a film character once more. Of course the title of the film, and the book, implies that there maybe only a little truth in how this character tells his story, but for the most part I bet that Barney’s Version is the version that’s the most fun.

Score: A Hockey Musical

Rating: ***

Create a musical about a hockey protégée and the question is what takes emphasis, the hockey or the music? Perhaps a better question is what took the Canadian film industry so long to come up this idea? The concept seems natural enough: you take the typical sports movie clichés, put them in a hockey rink, load up some hardcore Canadiana and then score the thing with a generous helping of catchy tunes. That’s the formula for Score: A Hockey Musical, the new movie from the director, who, in his last film, sent Joshua Jackson on a cross-country biker trek at the whim of a Roll-Up-the-Rim-to-Win cup.

For all intents and purposes, the film comes set up much like a hockey game. It begins with the national anthem as sung by Scottish crooner John McDermott, then heads into a first period of excitement where, not knowing what to expect, we meet the starting line-up, gage their talents and make our bets on how this game will end up. From there we settle into the second period, where events unfold as expected as everyone saves their energy for the grand finale in the third period, as the team comes together for one final burst of energy and drive in order to bring the game into a friendly result.

Having written that just now, I feel that I’ve strained the hockey game metaphor perhaps a bit too far. For Score not only sticks closely to the conventions of the hockey/sports movie, it’s also finds comfort in the routine of the musical. The perfectly named Farley Gordon (Noah Reid) is a sweet, simple, home schooled 17-year-old with hippie parents and a killer acumen for the game of hockey. Naturally his parents don’t understand and, dare I say, generally disprove of Farley’s (natural) love of the game.

For Mr. and Mrs. Gordon there’s even more trepidation about the sport when they’re introduced to Walt Acorn (Stephen McHattie), owner of the fictitious Brampton Blades, which is part of a fictitious version of the Ontario Hockey League. Farley desires to play minor league hockey despite only ever playing on the neighbourhood rink, so it’s quite the culture shock for him when he’s introduced to the rude, crude and yes, violent world of competitive hockey. Also complicating things for Farley are some confusing feelings for his platonic (though she wishes it was more) BFF Eve, played adorably by Allie MacDonald.

Writer/director Michael McGowan stacks the deck in his favour with a lot of familiar faces, from former Grease girl Olivia Newton-John playing Farley’s mom to Hour man George Stroumboulopoulos playing an announcer to a cameo by the most famous hockey dad of all, Walter Gretzky. Noted Canadian musicians Nelly Furtado and Hawksley Workman also pop up in small cameos, not that you’ll really notice. Furtado and Workman seem to be a part of the film if only to up the musical street cred. The same could also be said for the appearance of the elder Gretzky and former Calgary Flame Theo Fleury. You have to appreciate the half-hearted shout outs, but the movie doesn’t really need them, nor do they help.

The kind of typical sports movie territory of a rookie superstar initially basking in the recognition of his skill before getting crushed with self-doubt and finding his way again is a well-worn plot. Of course, like all sports movies, it works for the most part on an emotional level. Farley’s quest is fun to follow, if only because watching him navigate the seemingly brutal world of minor league hockey despite his declared pacifism makes for an interesting conflict. How does Farley get the respect of his brawling brothers on ice without betraying his principles and throwing down? McGowan clearly wasn’t able to find a satisfying enough solution, but it’s fun watching Farley struggle.

As for the music, there’s really no standout hit, which is kind of key when you’re putting a musical together. A day later and I wasn’t sure if I remembered any of the songs, and even hearing them in film wasn’t exactly a toe-tapping affair. As well, it took a while for the musical aspect of Score to really take hold. When the cast broke into the first couple of songs there was a slight jarring effect as you say to yourself “Oh yeah, it’s a musical, and this is natural.” I’m not sure if that was a function of my own viewer mentality or something the film did on its own, but it took a minute of getting used to.

On a whole though, I have a hard time saying that Score wasn’t a satisfying experience. I think coming out of it, you get exactly what you thought you were going to get going in. The energy and dedication of the cast and crew is indeed all there on screen, making the film an enjoyable romp despite any stylistic or narrative hiccups. In fact, it’s hard not to sit there and enjoy the film. It’s campy in a good way with some good laughs and, if nothing else, a solidly patriotic disposition that gives a friendly poke to all those obsessed with Saturday Night on the CBC. You don’t have to know hockey – or musicals – to get it, but it can’t hurt either.

TIFF - The Whistleblower

Rating: ****

The Whistleblower may not be one of the most talked about films of the Toronto International Film Festival, but it is one of the 2010 Fest’s most compelling. Like a police procedural with an international flavour, the film has the added gravitas of being “ripped from the headlines,” a hook that’s both compelling and repellent. Additionally, The Whistleblower features a first rate performance by Academy Award-winner Rachel Weisz, whose positively brilliant as she trades between frustration and inspiration from beginning to end.

Weisz plays Kathy Bolkovac, a Nebraska cop that takes a job as a private police officer in post-war Bosnia. As one of the few female cops on the force, Bolkovac manages to make progress in small ways in the prosecution of domestic violence against women, a measure that gets her recognized by the U.N. High Commissioner on Human Rights (Vanessa Redgrave). Under her new responsibilities, Bolkovac finds herself neck deep in the murky world of human trafficking in Bosnia, which has tendrils leading from the pimps to the very people that Bolkovac is working with at the U.N.

This is not surprising, and there really is no mystery for Bolkovac to solve, but what makes The Whistleblower compelling is a matter covered by many stories in the past, how can one person make difference amidst a system hopelessly corrupt. Bolkovac makes a few allies, like an internal affairs officer played by David Strathairn, but despite their reach and high standing, they turn out to be as powerless as she is when it comes to exposing complicity with the local sex trade.

Because of its subject matter, The Whistleblower is difficult to watch for a couple of reasons. First there’s the obvious and depraved abuse of these young women, many of whom were sold into slavery by people they loved and trusted. Although the film is rarely explicit in its depiction of the abuse, there are some rather chilling things alluded to or implied. The other difficulty is the sheer wall of obfuscation that Bolkovac encounters. Whether it’s the fact of the collusion of her colleagues or the fact that they do it so brazenly and without consequence, you can’t help but feel that there’s no way one person can make a dent in all of this.

Still, as they say, where there’s a will, there’s a way. Bolkovac is an admirable character, determined and committed, but at the same time flawed. She took the job so that she might have enough money to spend more time with her kids, but in the process she’s given a position requiring more than a six month commitment. However, the film doesn’t dwell on Bolkovac’s difficulties as a mother connecting to her children, but perhaps how she used that longing and poured her heart and soul into helping these young women.

A gut-wrenching journey, The Whistleblower tests your patience and gives you hope. Anchored by some pretty solid performances from Weisz, Redgrave, and Strathairn, as well as character actors like Nikolaj Lie Kaas and David Hewlett, this is a compelling drama and highlights a frequently overlooked issue. First-time director Larysa Kondracki, who also co-wrote the screenplay, keeps a very tight grip on the material and delivers the story with precision and determination. Well made with a good message, The Whistleblower is a film that deserves to be known far and wide.

TIFF - Trigger

Rating: ***1/2

Originally conceived, apparently, as a sequel to Hard Core Logo, Trigger is not Hard Core Logo. It’s by Bruce McDonald, and it’s about musicians, but that’s about all that these two movies have in common. Seemingly modelled off, or inspired by, My Dinner With Andre, Trigger is a kind of Before Sunset with a lot of walking around and talking and waxing poetic about life, love and art.

The film follows two former rockers named Kat (Molly Parker) and Vic (Tracy Wright), who form the titular band. In the prologue we see a rather nasty fight unfold on stage in silent black and white footage, which was, we assume, the duo’s final show together. Flash forward a decade and the two meet up again for dinner in an upscale Toronto restaurant. Vic seems out of place, while Kat slides right in saying that she knows the chef and orders the quail. See where this is going?

Kate and Voc talk about music, life in L.A. (for Kate), working corporate, their respective substance abuse problems and whether or not they want to swing by this gig recognizing the contributions of women to rock, including Trigger of course. There’s so much to say and so little time, but a lot is shared over the course of the film’s 80 minute running time.

For added poignancy, there’s the fact that Tracy Wright passed away earlier this summer after battling pancreatic cancer. Trigger was rushed into production when Wright was diagnosed, and knowing that I couldn’t help but feel there was an unspoken reference to that in the way that Wright played Vic; whether, like Wright herself, Vic was facing her own mortality. Perhaps, the only reason she’d reconnect with Kate is because she knew it was the last time she’d be able too? There’s something terrible and gracious about that.

But even with such dark thoughts, Trigger is a wonderfully written movie. Parker and Wright also get the chance to rock out in one scene as Trigger reunites on stage for the first time in over 10 years. Weirdly though, the scene at this concert is the only music that sticks out in my mind when thinking about this movie. Perhaps that’s not so weird, it’s been done before. Besides, I don’t think music is the point. Trigger is about the people that matter in our lives and about how infrequently we really share with them the knowledge that they’re that important.

While it was hard not be mesmerized by the actresses and their delivery of a very dialogue heavy script, there seemed like times that the story was trying a bit too hard to create conflict. As well, it seems in the end to run out of steam a little bit, as if everything’s been said and the pen is having trouble finding a way to round everything off. That could be an element of exhaustion though considering that the movie goes from dusk till dawn with Kate and Vic yakking all the way.

Despite that, I found Trigger an enjoyable film; a kind of one act play that’s elegant in its simplicity. The difference being that you’ll either be taken away by the performances or you won’t, though I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t be. The two leading ladies are dynamic and energetic, bringing a genuine feeling of tension and history with the way they interact. There are a number of cameos by recognizable Canadian actors like Sarah Polley, Callum Keith Rennie and Wright’s long-time partner Don McKeller and the film gave me two really great lines, one of whish is “Rock ’n’ roll is an odour.” That’s a delightful bit of criticism that I intend to use the next time I write an album review.

But in all seriousness, Trigger is a great tribute to the life and work of Tracy Wright and I appreciate the talent and dedication brought to bear by the other actor and filmmakers in order to giver her this really great send off. Trigger is a tribute to the artists who think they’re forgotten, but really aren’t. Like the young girls with their own band who recognize Vic in line at the Mod Club, there’s always someone new to meet who you’ve inspired. I’m sure the same will be said for Tracy Wright in years to come.

TIFF - Repeaters

Rating: ****

Repeating the same day over and over again is a well tested sci-fi concept in which a character or characters is allowed to do-over the same day again and again to learn about themselves and allow for some personal growth. Naturally in these scenarios, whether it’s the Bill Murray comedy Groundhog Day or the episode of Stargate SG-1 entitled “Window of Opportunity”, there is also opportunity for more selfish and/or reckless acts to be explored without consequence.

The new Canadian film Repeaters covers much of this same ground, but takes it a step further. What if there were a trio of people repeating the same Wednesday over and over again, and while two of the three take the chance for personal growth, the third just dives deeper and deeper into debauchery of his own making? An impressive triad of actors make up this group of formally drug-addicted twentysomethings who, through a freak accident involving a lightening storm, end up going to sleep one night and waking up that same morning.

This day is a special one for our heroes, and not just because of their new found abilities. It’s the first day that they’re allowed out of rehab on a day pass and their councillor (Ben Ratner) wants them to use the freedom to address the human cost, or cause, of their addiction. Dustin Mulligan is Kyle Halstead, who tries to reconcile with his high school aged sister to no success. Amanda Crew is Sonia Logan, who goes to the hospital to visit her dying father but finds that she can’t get past the door. And Richard De Klerk is Michael Weeks, who goes to prison to visit his father only to have the old man get enraged at the sight him.

Indubitably, these are three messed up kids, so naturally their first reaction to these new found powers is to shoplift, break and enter, drink themselves stupid, get high, knock over a liquor store and force the local drug dealer to eat cow piles at gun point. But like they say, it’s all fun and games until Kyle and Sonia use one of their repeats to save a young girl from killing herself, only to have that same girl end up getting raped by Michael. What’s the problem, he says, she won’t remember because today starts all over again. Thus begins Michael’s downward spiral into deeper depravity as Kyle and Sonia wonder if their abilities are meant for something more.

The movie plays out fairly predictably, but there’s unquestionable style in director Carl Bessai’s delivery. Arne Olsen’s script does its job by drawing the characters very well and the actors imbue those roles with a lot of realism and sincerity. The emotional beats are satisfying and not overplayed, and the sci-fi centre never overpowers the human drama. While the key to the trio’s breaking the time loop is fairly implied, Bessai plays things quite nicely with a smart and slightly twisty climax.

Repeaters is high concept fair that’s as familiar and foreboding as the North Vancouver locations used to film it in. A surprising low-key and effective film, Repeaters may be worth checking out again, and at the very least seeing once. It’s a very strong production for a simple and occasionally overdone idea, which shows again that in the right hands old ideas can seem fresh. With terrific acting, a fine script and a sure hand behind the camera (quite literally since Bessai was director of photography and lead camera operator), Repeaters is immensely satisfying, and doesn’t require any do-overs.

TIFF - A Beginner’s Guide to Endings

Rating: ****

If you calculate the odds of success in regards to your attempted suicide by hanging, then you just might be a degenerate gambler. That’s how A Beginner’s Guide to Endings kicks off as Duke White (played amicably by Harvey Keitel) marches through a Niagara Falls amusement park with one end of rope tied as a noose around his neck, and the other tied to the end of a log. Duke calculates that there’s a 1 in 3 chance that he’ll get a quick and easy death by hanging, but doesn’t allow for the fact that the branch in the chosen tree might snap off and spare him. So, his chances are really 1 in 4, Duke figures.

True, there is a touch of gallows humour in A Beginner’s Guide to Endings, which follows Duke’s five sons as they deal with the immediate aftermath of their father’s death. Or make that supposed death since the body is never recovered. The film reminded my of The Royal Tenenbaums, Wes Anderson’s 1999 film about the dysfunctional family of an equally quirky and reckless patriarch played by Gene Hackman. But aside from a thematic commonality and similar senses of humour, Beginner’s Guide is a little more bawdy and ready to rumble than anything by Anderson.

Jason Jones, Scott Caan and Paulo Costanzo play Duke’s three oldest boys, Nuts, Cal and Jacob. Each suffers a particular affliction that stymies their personal development; Nuts is a professional boxer who got his nickname for constantly being hit by his opponents in the pelvic region, Cal is an unrepentant skirt chaser and Jacob is the one kid that got straight A’s and is organized within an inch of his life. Duke leaves a meagre inheritance to them and his two other sons, and in a kind of good news-bad news situation, Duke lets the three older boys that they have an indeterminate time left to live thanks to his signing up the boys for a drug trial 10 years earlier.

It takes a particular kind of mind to make a comedy about a group of adult children cursed to death by their father’s irresponsibility and make it funny. Director Jonathan Sobol shows himself a capable man behind the camera balancing black humour with slapstick and a dry wit.

The actors deserve a lot of the credit too with Jones, Caan and Costanzo having great comedic timing between the three of them. Keitel’s influence is pretty strong even though Duke’s role is more like an embiggened cameo. I’m a fan of Scorsese’s Mean Streets and it’s kind of funny to see a small time hustler like Charlie go to seed as a small time grafter making cash by throwing his son’s fights and signing his kids up to ingest poison one pill at a time.

But out of this bizarre confluence of people and plotlines comes an even odder mix. Beginners Guide has lovely streak of brothers sticking together through think and thin, even if it means helping them do something stupid or doing something stupid for them. Still, you can’t pretend that the humour in the film is neither dark, or biting, or completely hilarious. Even inanimate objects in this movie are given a personality; the family first aid kit is called “Rusty” and there’s a cricket bat called “The Management.” Said bat is wielded by Canadian actor Stephen McHattie who plays an Irish boxing manager named Fitz and is one of a few pretty hilarious smaller roles.

Further among those is the wicked J. K. Simmons as Duke’s brother, who is also a preacher and the lone voice of reason in the family. At Duke’s funeral, he dryly reads Lynyrd Skynyrd lyrics in lieu of a Bible verse because he doubts that Duke, though a man of faith, never actually read The Bible. Tricia Helfer sheds the steely glow of her Battlestar Galactica Cylon to play Miranda, the object of Cal’s affection despite her rather dubious record of three marriages and three dead husbands. Helfer fits right in with the (mostly) boys club, along with a brief appearance by Wendy Crewson as the boys’ kind hearted mother.

Ultimately though, Beginner’s Guide is a rare kind of comedy that’s about death but makes you forget about dying. I won’t say it’s life affirming, but there’s definitely heart underneath the laughs. The grand finale relies a little too much on coincidence and chance with a certain lost cadaver being used as a kind of deus ex machina, but otherwise, I left the theatre satisfied. No one will accuse the film of being sentimental, but A Beginner’s Guide to Endings is unique Canadian in the mixing of warmth and darkness. A black comedy with a chewy centre and a slightly bitter candy coating. And that was a compliment.

TIFF - Amazon Falls

Rating: **

Once in a great while, the festival notion of taking great films that may be otherwise overlooked and giving them the spotlight let’s you down. Amazon Falls is one of those films. An occasionally hackneyed series of clichés about show business, Amazon Falls was not an easy film to watch. Its plot is predictable, the dialogue stilted, the tone a little false if not farcical, and the only thing that keeps it descending completely into camp is the acting. The players are admirably dedicated to the parts, but one wishes that there was something more to challenge them.

Tell me if this sounds familiar: Jana (April Telek) is an aspiring actress about to celebrate birthday number 40 and she’s always one part away from “making it.” She works as a hostess in a bar where getting tips means letting rich, old and ugly-looking producers pinch you in the butt. “I feel like I need a shower,” says Li (Anna Mae Routledge), a young ingénue that Jana’s taken under her wing, after one particular horrid shift. Jana’s boyfriend Aron (Zak Santiago) is a musician with a coke habit and a bad attitude, which Jana naturally writes off as endearing because, yes Virginia, he’s young and hot and she’s a day away from 40.

The plot follows Jana as she gets exponentially more desperate as she tries to prove that – I don’t know – she didn’t waste her life? That a woman can still make it in Hollywood after 40? Maybe both? Perhaps if we had seen a little bit more of Jana the person, or if she had got the chance to express what it is that she really wants, we could have understood and cut back on the typical “Hollywood movie” stuff like the actress’ mental breakdown scene. I’ve seen Sunset Boulevard too.

Although to be fair, Jana’s breakdown scene was one of the better pieces of acting in this film, if not the best piece of acting. Beautifully understated by Telek and thankfully void of histrionics, all of Jana’s disappointment, frustration and hopelessness is perfectly palpable. I almost feel that this is the film that writer/director Katrin Bowen set out to make, but somewhere that feeling got lost and what we were left with is Bizarro Entourage coming this fall to Showcase.

But as I said, the actors I did enjoy. Telek does a really good job of conveying the struggles of actresses to fit a type, at least in form if not in overall substance. Routledge could have played Li cheaply, but like Telek, I found something deeper going on behind the material. Tom Braidwood, know to X-Files fans the world over as Lone Gunman Melvin Frohike, was a treat as the sleazy owner of the bar Jana works at, but the ace card goes to Braidwood’s fellow X-Files alum William B. Davis. Davis, well know as the conspiracy series’ nefarious Cancer Man, gets to creep it up as the producer of Jana’s first, most successful film.

Secondary to the main plot about Jana try to get a career-altering role in what’s described as a “big” and “gritty” indie feature, is the fact the she’s being pursued by Davis’ producer for a role in his ambiguously described “next project.” This after him not being heard from for years, so Jana’s hesitant. In the end, with all options exhausted, Jana shows up at the bar in a dressed that could be described as vaguely Marilyn Monroe-esque, and agrees to “go with” the producer. They get into his limo and seemingly drive off into the night.

Okay, so did I read this right? Because throughout the whole thing I thought something was off about the Davis character, but I thought it was residual creepiness from Cancer Man, but in the end I wondered if I read it right in the first place. Was he the Angel of Death taking Jana away or was he just a creep that she’s willing to be exploited by if it means more movie roles, making any death metaphors more career, soul-crushingly oriented?

I don’t know the answer to that, but what I do know is that a unique opportunity to make meaningful commentary on celebrity, sexism or artistic integrity in the film business was squandered pretty thoroughly. There was promise here, but I’m not sure what happened, and the result we get is somewhat less than satisfying. Is Hollywood, a soul-crushing grindhouse of lucky chances and rampant unfairness? Sure, but I knew that already thanks. What else have you got?

TIFF - Modra

Rating: ****

Modra is a film that proves once again that you can do big things on a small budget. Ingrid Veninger has made an utterly charming movie that’s funny, beautiful and touching using a kind of cinéma vérité, a couple of very young, inexperienced actors upon which the whole film hinges, and the beautiful backdrop of the titular city.

Modra follows two Toronto teens as they take a week during their summer vacation to go on a trip to Modra, which is a small town in Slovakia. Lina (Hallie Switzer) has family there, and was originally supposed to go with her boyfriend until an ill-timed break-up scuttled those plans. Enter Leca (Alexander Gammal), who randomly calls up Lina for a date to the movies, or something, but ends up making the trek to Modra with her. If this were a Julia Roberts movie you’d probably know where things go from here. Fortunately though, it’s not.

Lina and Leca are wonderfully played because they talk, act and think like real teenagers. Unsure just what exactly Lina’s intentions are, Leca’s reaction to other guys giving Lina attention is to retreat. Lina meanwhile is unsure what to make of Leca’s obvious affection and confusing distance, although over the week they’re in Modra together she begins really caring for him.

Such awkwardness is typical of teenage romance, although it is rarely portrayed on screen in such a way. I enjoyed how Switzer and Gammal were unpolished and seemingly unpractised in their performances. There’s a great line in the beginning were Leca calls Lina and when she explains to him that she’s going to Slovakia, Leca’s reaction is to say, “Cool, they have a good hockey team.” Something about that line just encapsulates the tone of the film: real teens, real reactions. You can practically hear in Leca’s voice how suave he thinks he is when he drops that little piece of Slovak trivia.

The film itself is rather impressively crafted by the sheer fact of how simply it rolls by. There’s no camera trickery, weird angles, or really anything that seems to indicate that something more than natural light was used. It’s part of a whole naturalistic vibe to the film that seems as though sometimes that someone was following these kids along and making a documentary about them. The musical selection, including some local flavour from Bukasovy Masiv of the real life Modra, adds to the genuine essence of the film.

The bottom line is that Modra is just a really cute little movie. It’s immensely satisfying even though the most you can say that happened is that two kids have a nice vacation in the Slovakian countryside. Of course, the film works quite brilliantly as a travelogue for small town Slovakia as well, but really this movie is all about the quiet, sometimes, awkward, sometimes awe-inspiring nature of discovery. Whether that’s discoveries of the heart or discoveries of a previously unknown culture, Modra delivers it all with perfect candour.

It’s quirky, it’s funny, it’s a little inspirational, but most importantly of all, it’s utterly human. Big props once again go to Hallie Switzer and Alexander Gammal for just being so authentic. Whether it was purposefully, or it just came naturally due to lack of experience, these kids were the heart and soul of the movie and brought the story to life. It’s just one of those movies that makes you feel good after seeing it, and that’s even harder to come by then capturing something that resembles reality on the big screen. So on that account, I guess Modra’s doubly a miracle.

TIFF - The High Cost of Living

Rating: ***1/2

There was something about the new Deborah Chow film The High Cost of Living that immediately signalled to me something kind of cheesy and perhaps more ideally suited to cable TV than the Toronto International Film Festival. The story, about a pregnant woman who loses her baby after a hit-and-run, and how she comes to terms with that loss after befriending the man who, unbeknownst to her, was responsible for the accident, really seemed to have only one way it could all turn out.

But while the destination was written on the wall from the beginning, the journey to get there is epically rewarding in an emotional way. The acting is sublime and the digital cinematography has a crisp, yet strangely voyeuristic, visual effect on the screen. But mostly it’s the performances of leads Isabelle Blais and Zach Braff that dazzle you. The film is incredible to watch as you not only wait for that moment for the truth to come out, but you kind of find yourself hoping that it never does.

Braff is Henry, an American ex-pat and petty drug dealer who’s way too wasted to be driving when he hits the nearly ready to give birth Nathalie, played by Blais. Nathalie’s baby dies in the accident, stillborn in her womb, and the child can’t be delivered until she’s had a chance to recuperate from her other injuries. The loss creates an even greater distance between Nathalie and her husband Michel (Patrick Labbé), as Henry uses the teenage son of his landlords to try and find out any information about the pregnant woman he hit.

Henry’s guilt forces him to seek Nathalie to see how she’s faring after the accident, and the answer is that she’s not faring very well. Walking out on Michel out of anger, Henry has a “chance” encounter with Nathalie and the two begin to form a bond as Henry becomes Nathalie’s guardian angel and the one person she feels comfortable confiding in about the tragedy. Henry, meanwhile, struggles with whether his affection for Nathalie is genuine or whether it’s just guilt, even while he struggles to make sure that neither she nor the police learn of his culpability in her condition.

What makes The High Cost of Living so compelling is that Chow constructs a world where people do and don’t act the way you’d expect them too, and doing both at the same time. True, Henry’s trying to hide his true complicity in Nathalie’s condition, but he’s so invested in her well being it’s hard not to think that here’s a man who almost wants to be caught. Blias’ performance is beautifully restrained and understated. Her suffering and grief are so palpable that she makes you feel it. And more than that, she almost makes it seem that she’s not doing any acting at all.

There are a couple of subplots that didn’t quite strike the right feeling with me. The whole matter of Henry’s teenage cohort seemed kind of tacked on to give the film a bit of “action” or as the obvious escape hatch through which Henry’s loving plot unfurls. I also was initially ambivalent about Labbé’s performance about Michel, as he seemed to walk like a zombie throughout the film, but later I came to feel as if he played it just right. It was low key, kind of apathetic and a little “checked out” in mind and soul. And honestly, can you blame Michel for acting in such a way?

But The High Cost of Living is a very rewarding film for the acting and is almost obliviously in how complexly those performances are delivered. It’s a very human tale, and I find myself revisiting it in my mind every now and then ever since I’ve seen it. It’s a simple fable, but Deborah Chow does an impeccable job in making the film lively and human and down to Earth. A very well done film.

Splice

Rating: ****

There can be no better compliment to Splice then to call it Cronenberg-esque. Featuring believable characters, up-to-the-second genetic chicanery and a couple of compelling gross outs, Splice is everything that most modern Hollywood horrors are not: original.

This new decade has been pretty golden for horror efforts so far with The Crazies remake and Adam Green’s Frozen generating some genuine chills at the box office; even The Human Centipede is exploitation cinema par excellence. But I think Splice takes things to a whole other level. It’s a compelling What-If scenario that’s grounded in a knowing realism that the movie world isn’t that far outpacing real world science and tech. It’s a Frankenstein tale with a monster that’s not as monstrous in context of its creators. It deals with issues and themes so hot button that the film practically sizzles. The whole thing could have been ripped from the headlines of the latest issue of Popular Science.

Mostly though, Splice is about character. Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley play research scientists Clive Nicoli and Elsa Kast. Not only are they cleverly named after Bride of Frankenstein stars Colin Clive and Elsa Lanchester, but they’re very grounded people that are played genuinely by the actors. In other words, this isn’t Nutty Professor territory or even Herbert West territory either. As a couple and as researchers, Clive and Elsa are smart, talented, down to earth, and, dare I say, hip. Which is why, according to the Joss Whedon school of screenwriting, it’s only fair that terrible things befall them.

Geneticists on the edge of using their research to create compelling new medicines, Clive and Elsa decide to take things a bit too far, just to see if they can. Adding human DNA to the new-life recipe, despite the warning against it by their corporate sponsors, Elsa and Clive end up giving birth (so to speak) to Dren, a bald-headed human-hybrid with bird-like legs and a long tail. She demonstrates incredible intelligence and reasoning skills while biologically being able to breathe underwater and having nutrient rich cells that may hold the key to curing several incurable diseases. Oh yeah, this can only get bad for our heroes here on out.

Elsa begins to develop previous unfelt maternal instincts for Dren (played as an adult by French actress Delphine Chanéac), which only unsettles Clive further being the conscientious objector to Dren’s creation in the first place. There is an almost touching – dare I say “Spielbergian” – vibe to the scenes of Elsa teaching young Dren word association or keeping her safe from curious and exploitative lab scientists, but at the base of your spine there’s a tingle that says this can all go wrong at any minute.

Director Vincenzo Natali knows how to build tension and play the creepy-crawly card well. He keeps such a firm focus on character and story that when you do get these bouts of violence and gore, you get rattled by them easily. Splice isn’t some torture porn that tests you to see how much you can take, but rather takes a less-is-more approach to make each instance on its own take you for maximum effect. Even a scene featuring CGI blob creatures stabbing each other to death with their proboscises got a bunch of film critics at the press screening gasping. Natali further shows that he learned the lessons of Cronenberg well by not losing sight of character amidst the gore and allegory. Read into it what you want, this is a drama about three people. Well… two people and the hybrid they created together.

That’s also giving praise to the work of Chanéac. A true gift from the god of thespians who has to play every emotion without words while being in the midst of make-up, effects, appliances, wires or whatever devices the filmmakers needed to bring Dren to vivid life. The final twists of the story all involve what happens to Dren and I will not spoil them. What I will say that the ending of Splice will either leave you delighted or sickened. As for the film itself, the door is left open for sequel potential, but I will point out that Cronenberg’s own The Fly spawned a sequel, which was a whole different sort of genetic mutation. After all, as the film itself points out, once is enough.

Hot Docs - Small Wonders

Rating: ***

In the documentary Small Wonders, filmmaker Tally Abecassis shows us three shops in small town Canada and how they struggle to remain relevant in a consumer market driven by the axiom “Bigger is better.” Fittingly, there’s something about the doc itself that feels charmingly antiquated. Abecassis shot the film over 10 years with a 16 mm camera, and the result is a feeling of looking into a time capsule. The man running a watch repair shop, the woman running the corner hardware store and the kindly old man with the photography studio all feel like characters from a drama of yesteryear. The inside of their stores are like boxes shielded from time, but the proprietors are still aware that times have changed.

If you’re looking for a polemic about how Wal-Mart’s ruining the world, this is not your movie. While it would be impossible to tell these stories without touching on the fact that the retail world is all about the mighty big blue box, the tone struck is not accusatory or overly negative. People getting their portraits done at a big box, getting hardware suppliers more cheaply and with greater selection, or throwing out a broken watch is all part of the current trend, and trends change. That’s life, folks.

Still, for these utter personal tales there’s something that feels rather distant about the way Small Wonders tells these stories. There’s a cool kind of analysis to the narration that makes the film seem more like a graduate psychology thesis rather than a loving memorial to a bygone age. There’s something kind of spacey about the approach, a separation of subject and author, which is weird considering that Abecassis spent 10 years chronicling these three people. The film’s conclusion is more philosophical too seeing as how everyone closed their stores or were forced into smaller spaces. One can almost take the ending as a tribute to the power of the lost cause, which I don’t think the filmmakers were trying to convey.

There is still something to admire in Small Wonders though, and it’s that these are interesting people with interesting stories to tell. They’re stories that you don’t get out of working down an anonymous aisle at the local big box. From the helter skelter filing system to the personal touch that can only be got from people who are symbiotic with their businesses rather than cogs in the machine, there’s something admirable about those profiled in Small Wonders. I just wish that the documentary about them was able to connect better.

Cairo Time

Rating: ***

Ultimately, Cairo Time is one of those movies. It’s a film that is both engaging and disinterested; it’s got some sizzle, but it never really cooks. I will say that’s its unsurprising that this is the film that walked away with the Audience Choice Award in September at the Toronto International Film Festival. It is completely and totally unassuming. Just a sweet little movie that’s pleasing to see, and then like finished candy, the flavour is gone and the memory forgotten. But it’s relatively harmless just the same, light and breezy like a beach novel with two very engaging leads at the centre of the story.

Patricia Clarkson plays Juliette, a magazine editor that arrives in Cairo for some quiet time with her husband Mark (Tom McCamus), a UN aid worker held up in Gaza. At the airport, one of Mark’s former colleagues, Tareq (Alexander Siddig), picks up Juliette and takes her to hotel as a favour to Mark, and no more will come from their chance meeting, right? Of course, there’s more to it than that. Juliette, rapidly growing bored waiting for Mark’s ever imminent arrival, seeks out Tareq at his café (men only café mind you). The two spend more and more time together in ready-for-Tourism-Egypt like scenes as they fight their obvious mutual attraction.

Kind of clichéd? Yes, and the whole thing even ends up at a wedding. But for anyone walking and expecting a love story that’s somewhere between Bridges of Madison County and Harlequin romance has probably been profoundly oversold by the film’s marketing. The romance between Juliette and Tareq is tame by Ken-and-Barbie standards and is hardly the whirlwind affair you might think it’s going to be unless you consider the smoking a hookah pipe to be a phallic symbol. Really, there’s no harm done because the emotional affair is probably much more realistic and much more satisfying. It does though leave much of the story relatively tension free.

On the plus side though is all the wondrous Egyptian scenery. Almost lovingly shot by director Ruba Nadda and director of photography Luc Montpellier, this view of Cairo comes alive in vivid and colourful fashion, but in such a way that almost never feels touristy. And while we’re talking about the pyramids I want to thank Michael Bay and the makers of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen for forever tainting them. It’s hard to see the side of the Giza pyramids close up anymore without thinking of giant robot scrotums. Incidentally both a sentence I never thought I’d have to write and the only way to work reference to nudity – no matter how robotic – into Cairo Time. Unlike our giant robot blockbuster, the site of the pyramids here is soothing, like staring a screen saver too long.

But all kidding aside, I did find Cairo Time worked to a certain degree and there’s definitely some chemistry there between Siddig and Clarkson. As he escorts her to the wedding reception, he places his hand on the small of her back, and for some reason I’m thinking to myself, wow that’s hot. Maybe it’s the chaste nature of the culture, or maybe it’s the subtle way Nadda makes you think of what might have been, but there’s definitely a slow burn spark in the offing. Further, when Mark does appear, he doesn’t leave much of what you’d call an impression. No offence to McCamus, but he’s really not given a lot to work with. Juliette for that matter isn’t very interesting either, and for being a cosmopolitan woman of the 21st century, she doesn’t seem very sophisticated. But the romance at work in Cairo Time is the romance of the mind. Definitely this is a movie of its own grace and charm that might be lost on some people. Maybe I’m one of them.

The Trailer Park Boys: Countdown to Liquor Day

Rating: ***1/2

The new Trailer Park Boys movie marks the end of one of the greatest romances ever known in the annals of Canadian pop culture history. The film begins on a beach in the Caribbean, as the lobster-tanned Mr. Lahey (John Dunsworth) marches drunkenly throughout the resort in a red speedo and with liquor in hand. He’s nursing a broken heart, Mr. Lahey. Whatever happened at the Sunnyvale Trailer Park uncoupled the curmudgeonly supervisor from his shirtless love, but what could it be? This bizarre little teaser is the first sign that Mike Clattenburg’s venerable East Coast docu-comedy franchise was going in bold, new and more ambitious directions. But really it’s the same old drunken antics as ever, no fear Trailer Park fans.

It was concerning for a minute as the movie got off to a rocky start, comedicly speaking. The Trailer Park Boys series has been over for a couple of years now, so some kind of rustiness is to be expected, but the important part is that they find it again, and they did. Once the boys settle into the plot they find those characters again and make them sing as the story takes them in strange new directions. For the fans, you’ll get a prominent subplot for everybody’s favourite suburban white boy rapper J-Roc (Jonathan Torrens), a possible girlfriend for Bubbles (Mike Smith) and a life-altering decision for Randy (Pat Roach) as he chooses to side with the lesser of two evils. Even the guys making this “documentary” paradoxically get more screen time.

Ambition is key to the plot of Countdown to Liquor Day. Julian (Robb Wells), Ricky (John Paul Tremblay) and Bubbles are released from prison after two years and return to Sunnyvale to find that Lahey has turned it into a more high end trailer park. It’s the trailer park equivalent of a modern subdivision and Lahey is proud of his kingdom, so much so that he’s been dry for the last two years. The boys themselves have a plan, Julian wants to open an auto body shop, Julian’s going for his Grade 12, and Bubbles just wants to raise enough capital to get his kitties back from the SPCA. For once the guys are proactively trying to stay out of prison and avoid illegal activities, but then there’s that old saying about olds dogs.

The idea of Ricky, Bubbles and Julian trying to go straight may be jarring to some fans, but Clattenberg uses the idea only as elaborate set-up to get to some of the most outrageous, over-the-top antics the Boys have ever gotten up to. What’s also jarring is that the once borderline ambiguous Lahey/Randy relationship is brought into the open more than it’s ever been before, and what’s more is that there’s a kind of love triangle between them and Ricky. This leads to some more uncomfortably awkward humour used more popularly on The Office as opposed to The Trailer Park Boys, but it does make for some wickedly funny scenes. Playing further with the form, Randy becomes the ubiquitous fourth Trailer Park Boy, and even gets involved in their less than reputable activities.

I’m not sure how hardcore fans will react to some of these monumental changes in what was already comedic perfection in form and substance. I was never a huge fan, though I did tune into the show on rare occasion, and for me Liquor Day delivered handily. Clattenberg and his actors aren’t reinventing the wheel, but they did tweak it a little in order to deliver something both familiar and fresh. Liquor Day is comfort food with a new spice added, it’s the same meal, but there’s now an unfamiliar flavour in the mix that maybe strange at first, but ultimately as pleasing as the original recipe. Ambition doesn’t always lead one awry, unless your name is Ricky, Julian or Bubbles of course.