Toronto International Film Festival, Day Two: from Penn & Teller's 'Tim's Vermeer' and Fiennes' 'Invisible Woman' to Reitman's 'Boogie Nights'

Festivals
by Meredith Brody
September 9, 2013 1:18 PM
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Jason Sudeikis

The hell of it was that I had to rush out before the onstage conversation with Workman in order to beat it over to the Ryerson Theatre to get into the longest line I've ever stood in for Jason Reitman's second annual table read, with a surprise cast of actors, to do a live reading of "Boogie Nights." Reitman started the table reads several years ago with Elvis Mitchell at the Film Independent series at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art; they sell out as soon as they're announced, and have included an all-black "Reservoir Dogs" with Terrence Howard, Anthony Mackie, and Cuba Gooding Jr.; an all-female "Glengarry Glen Ross," with Robin Wright, Catharine O'Hara, Maria Bello, and Allison Janney, and a "Big Lebowski" with a celebrated turn by Seth Rogen as the Dude.  Living as I now do 350 miles north of Los Angeles, I've never made it to a Reitman table read there, so many thanks to TIFF for giving me a taste.  

The "Boogie Nights" cast included Josh Brolin as Jack (Burt Reynolds), Olivia Wilde as Amber Waves (Julianne Moore), Jesse Eisenberg as Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg), Jason Sudeikis as Buck (Don Cheadle), and Dakota Fanning as Rollergirl (Heather Graham). A good time was had by all, especially Reitman, who handled the narration duties but also was his cast's best audience, cracking up frequently at certain niceties of expression or performance. It wasn't quite the revelation that last year's "American Beauty" read had been, in which both Bryan Cranston (in the Kevin Spacey part) and Adam Driver (in the Wes Bentley role) had created fresh new takes on their characters. Only Eisenberg, cranky, whiney, boyish, seemed to deviate from the original.  (Well, Sudeikis only went the ebonics route once with Buck. He still managed to get his laughs.)  The scary failed robbery scene lost most of its power, lacking not only Alfred Molina, but the combination of too-loud music and random tossed fireworks.

Back on the subway (it was a four-token day) to take in the Robert Lepage/Pedro Pires "Triptych," which I went to both because I've enjoyed some of Lepage's stage and film work in the past, and I thought I was meeting Fandor's Jonathan Marlow there.  In the event, Jonathan's plane got in too late, so I ceded his seat to a lively Toronto psychiatrist.  "Triptych" turns out to be based on a three-character slice from Lepage's monumental nine-hour theater piece "Lipsynch," and interweaves the stories of a schizophrenic bookseller, her jazz-singer sister, and the neurosurgeon who removes a tumor from the singer's brain. Shot in desaturated colors, with a nice sense of place, in three cities: Montreal, Quebec, and London, it was a movie unlike any I'd seen before. Without being completely successful on its own terms, it still made me long to see the nine-hour "Lipsynch."  But then, I like things that are too long.

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