When I was younger, I assumed I would never go to a film festival. That was something other critics did — it felt too far away for me to even imagine. Then things changed: In December 2008, my editor asked me if I'd like to cover Sundance for him. Absolutely I wanted to. So we met up for coffee to strategize and for him to explain how Park City works, and I told him just how excited I was. "Oh, Sundance is
terrible," he responded with an air of absolute authority. "The food is
awful, and the people there are the worst." I don't remember being deterred by his warning, though. I was going to my first film festival. I couldn't wait.
When I arrived in Sundance a month later, a colleague and I went to grab our badges, the first thing you always do at a film festival. When we got to the press office, I ran into another colleague who had been attending Sundance for several years. I mentioned this was my first time. "Yeah, it's too bad we weren't going back when this festival was actually special," he said with an air of absolute authority. "We're sorta here at the end." This was 2009.
I bring up these stories to say that, since the start of my film festival life, I've had cold water thrown on my enthusiasm. Since that first Sundance, I've been to Toronto, True/False, Cannes, Venice, Hot Docs and SXSW — to say nothing of the local festivals I've attended, including AFI Fest and the much-missed Los Angeles Film Festival — and invariably I will run into someone who's sour on the experience. There are reasons to be grouchy, of course: Festivals are an extraordinary amount of work, often forcing people to eat poorly and sleep worse while they're far from home as they drag themselves from screening to screening. (More than one colleague has advised younger festival-goers that, really, it's totally normal if you break down into tears at some point.) But on the other hand ... you get to go to a film festival, which is incredible. There's nothing else like it in the movie universe. It can instantly recharge your batteries being around other film-lovers, especially the public, as we all discover new movies together and debate their merits. Festivals can be emotionally, physically and spiritually exhausting. They're also the best.
Talk this way too loudly among your peers and you risk accusations of being a Pollyanna. You can inspire an eye-roll or two, for sure. But I never get sick of festivals, and I always take a moment to remember to be grateful to soak in the moment when I'm at one. For years, I thought film festivals would never be a part of my life. They have now long been a steady staple. I am incredibly lucky, and I don't want to ever forget that.
* * * * *
My sunny mindset was challenged by this year's trip to Venice and Toronto. Not because I didn't have a good time — I did — but because I have never before encountered so many different colleagues who seemed full of despair and disillusionment. Those dark clouds were existential — about festivals, about our work in general, about the very industry we cover. And how could you blame them? On the eve of critics' arrival in Venice — the first of the three major fall film festivals — we were hit with three straight pieces of bad news. Respected critics Ann Hornaday, Richard Lawson and Michael Phillips all were leaving their jobs, whether through a buyout or a "change in editorial direction." It was the fitting end to a bad summer in which criticism itself seemed under fire, prompting strong responses from the likes of Richard Brody, Ty Burr, Kristen Lopez and others. As a result, fall festival season — usually a moment of optimism as we kick off a period of (hopefully) great movies — felt ominous this year. Like the beginning of the end.
I won't share individual stories I heard — those are theirs to tell — but I will say that I've never had as many conversations with friends and colleagues in which the tone was so dispirited. People were thinking of leaving the business. (Some already had.) Critics wondered if they were going to keep going to festivals. (Some were certain they weren't.) The general tone at both Venice and Toronto could best be described as "Try to find something that's bolted down and hang on for dear life." There was little optimism that things would eventually get better in our business — it was more a question of how much worse things would become. (The striking tagline for Kathryn Bigelow's A House of Dynamite, which premiered in Venice, seemed to take on a double meaning: "Not If. When.")
My attitude about grim industry trends has always been to keep my head down and work — focus on what I can control and try not to worry about what I can't — but it was hard not to be affected by the general glumness. I had been feeling all the same things as my friends and fellow critics, but to have it mirrored and amplified by those around me made those sentiments all the stronger and more pervasive. And that's only the business side of things: In a world in which Trump infects just about every aspect of our daily life, there was an extra layer of anxiety on top of everything else at all times. (By the way, film critics are hardly alone in feeling these doldrums when they get together.)
In such a dire atmosphere, an extraordinary fall festival season would have been a blessing. At a time when art and culture feel marginalized and imperiled, it's
natural to pin one's hopes on cliches like "the power of movies" to heal all. But that was probably asking too much. To be sure, there were great movies at Venice, Telluride and Toronto — some of which first played in Cannes or elsewhere — but there simply weren't enough to overcome the gloom I often felt surrounded by.
When a festival (or a festival season) is slightly underwhelming, there is a tendency to overreact and ascribe larger meanings to what happens on the ground. It sure can be tempting: Hang out with film critics and journalists long enough, and a cynical malaise can set in, a pessimistic insistence that cinema is in a downward spiral, both critically and commercially, from which it cannot recover. But I think that's a self-fulfilling prophecy — it's the worst kind of confirmation bias, and must be avoided at all costs lest you close your eyes to the excellent films in our midst.
There are too many vital filmmakers out there for me to discard my fundamental enthusiasm for the art form, and for festivals themselves. Also, there are too many colleagues who, despite it all, have held onto that belief, too. And if you're lucky, you can spend time with them, and with just everyday movie-lovers, who remind you that what we've devoted our lives to us is a wonderful, meaningful pursuit.
I have never lost that guy who, in 2008, learned that a long-held dream of attending a film festival was going to be realized. Sure, I grouse about the stupid TIFF ads before screenings and complain about the monsoon we all experienced one crazy night in Venice. But, also, I love that stuff. I love it. I've spent 17 years being told that the sky is falling, that things used to be better, that I arrived too late, that it's all downhill from here. That's not how I see it. And you can't make me feel otherwise.
* * * * *
Below are my rankings for everything I've seen that played at Venice, Telluride or Toronto, either over the last few weeks or at some point earlier this year. Links lead to individual reviews.
63. Eleanor the Great
62. Normal
61. Mother
60. The Man in My Basement
59. Roofman
58. Bad Apples
57. Nuremberg
56. Sacrifice
55. Fuze
54. At Work
53. Hedda
52. The Lost Bus
51. Ballad of a Small Player
50. Marc by Sofia
49. Sangre del Toro
48. John Candy: I Like Me
47. The Wizard of the Kremlin
46. The Smashing Machine
45. Ghost Elephants
44. The Little Sister
43. The History of Sound
42. The Sun Rises on Us All
41. Made In EU
40. Pillion
39. The Christophers
38. The Ugly
37. Eagles of the Republic
36. Arco
35. Broken English
34. After the Hunt
33. Jay Kelly
32. Frankenstein
31. Notes of a True Criminal
30. Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery
29. No Other Choice
28. Landmarks
27. La Grazia
26. Nouvelle Vague
25. The Secret Agent
24. It Was Just an Accident
23. Renoir
22. Orphan
21. The Testament of Ann Lee
20. Highway 99: A Double Album
19. Megadoc
18. Hamlet
17. Train Dreams
16. Cover-Up
15. Orwell: 2+2=5
14. BLKNWS: Terms & Conditions
13. Bugonia
12. Sentimental Value
11. Blue Heron
10. Last Night I Conquered the City of Thebes
9. Father Mother Sister Brother
8. Remake
7. Hamnet
6. Below the Clouds
5. Sirat
4. If I Had Legs I'd Kick You
3. Two Prosecutors
2. The Mastermind
1. Sound of Falling
My biggest takeaway from fall festival season? This really was a great Cannes, with my top three all premiering at the French festival back in May. Looking up and down the list, several movies will need a second viewing to see where they're ultimately going to land in my end-of-the-year rankings. (I'm especially curious to give The Secret Agent, It Was Just an Accident and The Testament of Ann Lee another spin.) And, of course, there are the many films I wasn't able to get to, including A House of Dynamite and The Voice of Hind Rajab, among several others. But for now, I'm home and happy to be back with Susan. The next three movie-mad months are gonna be a whirlwind. Can't wait.
