Today's first film split our party right down the middle. Half of us despised Richard Linklater's new film, while the other half - of which I was part - tremendously enjoyed this romp through the colourful world of the New York stage.
Me and Orson Welles takes a bland, naive actor (played, appropriately, by Zac Efron) and puts him in the right place at the right time: outside the Mercury Theatre as Orson Welles is casting for Julius Caesar. More narrative device than three-dimensional character, this pseudo-Holden Caulfield takes us on Altman-esque tour of 1930's Broadway theatre.
Is there anything Linklater can't do? The versatile filmmaker's new comedy is a thoroughly entertaining ensemble piece full of effortless insights into theatre, fame and ambition. Unfolding at a brisk pace in lovingly recreated 1930's broadway, the film features a superb central performance by Christian McKay as Orson Welles. Clare Danes, Eddie Marsan, Ben Chaplin and James Tuper round out the terrific cast as the great director's famous collaborators. Brannagh couldn't have done it better.
Next up was the world premiere of Toronto Stories, a portmanteau project featuring 4 new short films about this city. While not as ambitious as Paris Je t'Aime or New York I Love You, it's a solid addition to this new genre. Sook-Yin Lee's wrily funny The Brazilian segment, about an akward anti-romantic romance between two young Torontonians (Tygh Runyan and Sook-Yin Lee), one of whom has Asperger's, is a total gem.
Another Canadian film impressed that afternoon with its strong performances and moody atmosphere: Charles Officer's Nurse.Fighter.Boy. The low-budget film follows three characters: a nurse with a terminal disease, her fatherless boy and a boxer who attempts to take them under his wing despite serious financial problems of his own.
Gorgeously shot in deep, textured hues, the film is a character study, a coming-of-age movie and melodrama rolled into one. The boy of the title is also the nurse and carer, the nurse is also a fighter and the fighter is in many ways coming-of-age himself. Winning stuff.
The fourth film of the day was a last-minute choice when the film we wanted to see (Bruce McDonald's zomcom Pontypool) ended up being full. I knew nothing of Nothing But The Truth when the light dimmed save for its title and the name of its director, The Contender' s Rod Lurie.
A political thriller inspired by the Valerie Palme case, this could've been one of these great films about investigative journalists getting into trouble for exposing the truth. All The President's Men for the Bush years? Let down by its casting and pedestrian direction however, the film manages to hold the viewer's attention throughout but fails to entertain or outrage.
Kate Beckingsale doesn't convince as the principled gung-ho journalist who ends up doing extended time in jail for refusing to reveal her source, while the great Alan Alda is ill-employed as the lawyer hired to defend her. Only Vera Farmiga impresses as a woman who is both a soccer mom and a ruthless CIA operative. This fantastic subject matter, meanwhile deserved a Paul Greengrass or a Michael Mann. One big missed opportunity.
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