Grapes, Violins, and Growing Up: A First Look at This Year’s Toronto Film Festival

If the middling Sundance and Cannes slates (compared to average, at least) communicate anything, it seems fewer big names are drawing real hype and anticipation. Despite the fall film festivals’ broad lineups and popularity, it seems like there are relatively fewer big names drawing true hype and anticipation. While others may believe that’ll lead to a weaker festival season and fall slate, I think the opposite. It just means it’ll be easier to be pleasantly surprised by something unexpected.

This year’s Toronto International Film Festival has delivered on that front. I always like to spend my festival mixing lesser-known films on TIFF’s vast lineup with some more mainstream works. The festival’s incredible ability to spotlight unknown filmmakers and great international cinema, combined with the relative proximity of the screening venues, make downtown Toronto a cinephile’s dream for 10 days in sunny September. It’s always a pleasure to be back and catch some great films along the way.

Rémi St-Michael’s Toy Gun Bandit fits into the long-running film canon where teenagers get themselves into dumb situations without realizing the consequences of their actions. The Québécois film follows Félix (Félix Munger), a young, somewhat ostracized teenager who, while messing around with his two friends, robs a gas station with a toy gun. To his surprise, it works. He soon becomes acquainted with an older person named Dave (David Beaudoin), who convinces Félix to join him in robbing banks and things spiral from there. While it doesn’t break new ground in the genre, the film is an effective look at how teenage isolation, ennui, and search for meaning can have devastating effects. (It also helps that the film is wildly entertaining from start to finish.)

We Are All Strangers is the third film in Singaporean director Anthony Chen’s informal “Growing Up” trilogy, and it’s the director’s most expansive work yet. Clocking in at almost three hours, the film follows an aging father and his young adult son, who both get married around the same time but under very different circumstances. For comparison, many are comparing it to the sprawling, pinnacle works of cinematic master Edward Yang. When the film is a heartfelt family drama capturing the emotional hardships of the father-son relationship, those comparisons feel apt. Unfortunately, underdeveloped supporting characters (especially women) and a third act narrative pivot tear the film’s emotional undercurrent apart.

Experimental Filipino filmmaker John Torres’ The Remotes is a 148-minute film that tests the audience’s patience and endurance from the moment it starts. The narrative follows a widower detective feverishly investigating a case involving what he believes is a malignant navigation app, and with that synopsis alone, you’d expect a much more intense, quick-paced, and gripping thriller. The film uses its slow pace to its advantage, though. As the detective becomes more involved psychologically with this case, the sense of dread increases as well. It’s a surprisingly effective meditation on grief and catharsis, if you’re willing to wait for those themes to reveal themselves.

I had higher expectations for Ervin Han’s and Raúl García’s The Violinist, especially after learning that it won the Cristal Award (first place) at the world-renowned Annecy animation film festival earlier this year. The story, which follows the lives of and relationship between two violinists as they progress from children to adults in 20th-century Singapore, is compelling and complex. Unfortunately, the film is far too long for its own good, losing focus on its central story when it essentially becomes a spy film set in Japanese-occupied Singapore. The hand-drawn 2D animation style is beautiful to look at, but at 114 minutes long, it’s hard not to wish for a bit more substance here.

There are far worse ways to spend 90 minutes than with winemakers in the Italian region of Piemonte, and director Emanuele Gerosa understands that. Low Lies the Land is a somewhat observational slice-of-life documentary anchored to three families (two winemakers and one farmer) living in the region and tending to their lands. The changing climate and its catastrophic effects on their harvests are certainly a major part of the film, but Gerosa focuses more on how these families adapt to their circumstances and the level of care they put into their craft. The documentary doesn’t push many boundaries or challenge the viewer, but it’s perfectly passable nonetheless and a comfortable addition to the surprisingly large subgenre of winemaking-related documentaries.

One of the more affecting films I’ve seen at the festival so far, John Trengrove’s The Smell of Apples is a disturbing, difficult-to-watch portrait of a family coming to terms with their role in South African apartheid. Trengrove’s film is smartly relayed through the lens of the family’s youngest child, Marnus (Dawian van der Westhuizen), whose relentless worship of his army general father is continually tested as he learns more about his father’s work and evil disposition. Trengrove’s film is so effective because of its ambiguity: Marnus’ objections to his father’s actions are not always clear, pronounced, or even present, and his very own actions often strikingly reflect those of his father. This creative decision adds dimensionality and nuance to the film’s story, making it a deeply affecting look at how violence and hate can be passed down generationally.