Dear Jonathan,

I am not sure how to begin, so let me start with a famous saying that was humming in my mind while I watched what I consider to be the magnim opus of personal cinema, your incomparable
Tarnation:

"Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."
-- Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karnenina

I have read a little about how you did it, but what I want to know is: How did you do it? Susan Sontag said that 'To write about something is to think about it' and watching Tarnation, I had to believe that for you, documenting these experiences was a way to deal with them, to express yourself and feel emotions. Your confessions have devastated me. I have not been so moved by a film in all my days (and at this point, they are legion.) There are so many things I want to say to you...

While well-to-do New Yorkers on both the Upper East and the Upper West Side prepare themselves for the luxe offerings of Friday's Opening Night Gala of The 42nd New York Film Festival, hosted at the world-famous Tavern On The Green, (where I have secretly replaced their regular coffee with Folger's crystals), we not-so-well-to-do (in my case, anyway) industry professionals have already begun settling in this past week for the annual press screenings at the Walter Reade Theater. Today was the launch of the 'main program' and, after last week's post-Toronto fatigue, my first film of the festival was a whopper, Jean-Luc Godard's outstanding Notre Musique. While the public gets to sample Agnes Jaoui's Look At Me as a first course, the press and industry got a mouthful right from the start.

It's that time of the year, and I couldn't be more excited. Fall is my favorite season. The chill just licks the edge of the air, the sweaters begin to come out of hibernation, and nature slowly descends into its annual sleep. The fall for me is a calm, beautiful season of change and a time to reflect on my own life, its losses and possibilities. I'll admit, fall probably inspires me to sentimentality, especially when I begin to miss people who are no longer in my life. But that's ok. There is no more introspective season, and I welcome the opportunity to bundle up, feel the tip of my nose go cold, and remember.

In celebration of my favorite season, here are some films that are perfect for chilly fall evenings. I suggest a long home-cooked dinner, a delicious bottle of wine, and a warm blanket to wrap around your legs or, if you're lucky, someone kissable.

Well, today I crossed the line. My own nervous breakdown! Having seen 24 films in 7 days (you try it) and not finding my bed before 3:00 am on any given night while rising by 8:00 to rush off to screenings (usually nursing a hangover*), I am simply spent. Cranky, tired, unable to forgive cinematic mistakes, I literally can't take it anymore!

It has come to this. The Back Row Manifesto must proclaim:

The Top 6 Moments of Insanity at the 2004 Toronto International Film Festival**

Transformation is a powerful thing. The first time I ever saw a film by Arnaud Desplechin was one of the cinematic moments that changed my life. Close your eyes with me. Imagine that feeling of walking into a movie theater unaware and walking out a new person. It's 1996, I'm 25 years old and living on poverty wages in Washington, D.C. spending my days in an exhausting government job and my nights hopping from one movie theater to the next. My favorite of the bunch, The Biograph, had closed and been replaced by a CVS pharmacy. All that remained, aside from the relatively mainstream fare, was the snobby Kennedy Center and The Key Theater on Wisconsin Ave., one block north of M Street (it is now a Banana Republic, a fact which makes it hard for me to walk though the doors of that particular chain store.) The theater was well kept, and I slid in, dripping wet from the rain on the streets, grabbed a seat near the back and watched what has become one of the cornerstone films of my life; My Sex Life...or How I Got Into An Argument. There are moments you never forget at the movies, and I can remember almost every detail of that night; the smell of the space (popcorn and expensive perfume), the shape of the head of the person in front of me, the texture of the floor beneath my feet, the lumpy contours of the cushion in my seat. The epic scope of the film, the honest exploration of real and complicated feelings, those messy interactions of people my own age; it was literally transformative. Matthieu Amalric's performance as Paul Dedalus, so flawed, selfish, egotistical, manipulative, and so very alive, resonated with me in a powerful way, but so too did Emanuelle Devos as the heartbroken Esther and Jeanne Balibar as the manipulative Valérie. Every character in the film feels like a part of me. The jilted lover, the lothario, the confused student, the rival-- all of them share something of me, and the impression they made on me in my mid-20's, was profound. The cast in the film has gone on to become the face of contemporary French cinema, and seeing them perform in other films (particularly Devos in Read My Lips, Balibar in Va Savoir? and Amalric in another favorite, Late August/Early September) feels like spending time with old friends whom I miss dearly. I have since seen every film Desplechin has ever made (save for Love Without Pity, which I have been unable to track down), and when I saw that his latest feature, Rois et Reine was rescheduled for a new screening time at Toronto, I jumped at the chance to spend my night with my favorite director. I have literally seen over 22 films since the week began, many of them excellent, but no film has moved me as powerfully as Rois et Reine.

I am not one for making proclamations, but I want to say that the Toronto International Film Festival is, far and away, the best film experience I have ever had. I usually prefer the low-key charms of the two-movies-a-day NY Film Festival, which does not focus on parties and is so highly selective, almost every film is a can't miss. But Toronto strikes the perfect balance between films and events, industry and community... I am just blown away and inspired by the program screenings and the way in which the city responds. Bravo!

So far, it's been 12 films in four days and today has been lots of business meetings and an evening full of parties and events, so I will not see a single film today (which is great, because my head is already spinning from what I have seen.) Tomorrow, I pick up where I left off and have two 6 film days scheduled (they added 9pm screenings on both days... hooray!) I am simply gorging myself, and I still have been completely unable to see everything I want to see. Not even close.

The highlights of the week so far...

Up early this morning after an early night (no opening party for me...) and straight to the industry screening of David O. Russell's I ♥ Huckabees. I have now completed my four film day (including A Head In The Clouds, Nobody Knows, and La femme de Gilles) and despite the excellence of Nobody Knows, Russell's film stands out as the highlight of the day. The review is below... then, off to the Showtime party (and, with great anticipation, my first beer in Canada!)

After arriving to downtown Toronto after my ummmm... 'incident' at the airport this morning, I checked into my hotel, picked up my pass and registration bag (nice job on Industry Registration TIFF! Painless...), and high-tailed it over to the Varsity theaters for my first screening of the day, Lukas Moodyson's A HOLE IN MY HEART. I was plenty early (45 min), so I just walked in and sat down. It was pretty much empty, but soon the room filled to capacity. We were blissfully unaware of the scene outside the doors.

And what to say about the film... It was one of the most disturbing, yet profoundly humanist films I have ever seen. It would be impossible for me to avoid the particulars when writing about the film, so the review, with a frank discussion of graphic plot details, continues after the obligatory click below...

There is a little known secret about me. As the eldest child of two nationally ranked bridge players, I spent many weeks of my childhood travelling to bridge tournaments, picking up work as a card runner (or 'caddy') while my parents played 12 hours of bridge a day at various locales across the US and Canada. While the job was usually torture, I always looked forward to our trips to Toronto every Easter for the regional tournament. We stayed in the Royal York, earned money by day, and spent it shopping on Bloor St by evening. We would cross the border from Michigan by car as a family, drive back after the tournament-- no sweat. I would drive to Windsor all the time as a teenager. In fact, I had my prom dinner in Windsor, ONT. Drive to the border, answer a couple of questions, cross into Canada. On the way home, stop at the border, answer a couple of questions, cross into the USA. Simple.

So, how surprised was I today when I entered Canada at the airport and was asked for my passport? The same passport I looked at on my desk in my apartment in Brooklyn, gave a small chuckle about, and walked out the door without? They'll NEVER ask me for my passport... it's CANADA.

D'oh!

(I talked my way in... very gracious Immigration officer...whewwwwww. It's nice to be back, by the way. Sometimes, my lack of common sense shocks even me.)

Off to Toronto early tomorrow and I am excited, but I ALREADY have reason to gripe (sue me, I can bitch too!)... The structure of the press/industry screening schedule is really frustrating, and mostly its because the programmers have done such a fantastic job. There is so much I want to see that my current plans have to include leaving films early and running to other films. Not ideal. Also, the fact that so many high profile foreign and indie films are receiving only one screening is understandable, but very very frustrating, particularly since the screenings end so early in the day. As I said, understandable. But I am a glutton and want to devour everything.

The most frustrating aspect of this year's schedule is the front-loading of the schedule with all of the films I am most anticipating playing in the first three days, many right on top of one another. Then I look at films near the end of the festival, and they are primarily Canadian features... not that there is anything wrong with that, but I don't know why someone couldn't break up some of these blocks of films by more evenly balancing the schedule across the week. As a programmer myself, I know how hard it is to please all of your masters. But it is disappointing to book airfare and hotel, only to find very little to scout later in the week.

No matter though. I am ready to dive in, have my vitamins and clothes ready to go, and am thrilled to visit my first Toronto International Film Festival. Good luck to the staff and crew, and let's roll!

P.S. I'll be blogging the fest... I hope I can find a good wireless connection in Toronto. Any thoughts?

The cinematic history of the loser is storied and hilarious. It is the history of the underdog, the up and comer, the confident and quirky loner who overcomes all obstacles to preserve his own individuality while gaining greater acceptance and respect from society at large. You know the character; Paul Giamatti's Harvey Pekar in American Splendor, Thora Birch's Enid in Ghost World, and Jason Schwartzman's Max Fischer in Rushmore are only the most recent examples, but the roots of the on-screen underdog date all the way back to Charlie Chaplin's Little Tramp. You can keep your confident action hero, gliding through summer blockbuster explosions toward the fulfillment of his sexual conquests. I, on the other hand, am content to spend some quality time with Napoleon Dynamite.