Big Screen, Baby
Last week, I saw a film in the cinema for the first time in over 6 months. Under the familiar darkness, I could forget the mask on my face or the fact that two of the three friends I was with were sat a few empty seats away from us. I sat in a mostly empty movie theatre and I felt like I’d come home. My friends had joked the day before that they wouldn’t be surprised if I cried at the experience – and, alright, maybe I did, just a little. As the lights dimmed and the cinema’s sting played ahead of the feature, it was like the past months didn’t matter.
Cinemas have always been my escape. Films in general, too, but there is something distinctive for me about watching a film in a cinema. That dark, encompassing space is one of the very few places left in my fast-paced, hyper-communicative world where I can truly be alone. Where I can find a sense of quiet, away from the ping of a new email or the clatter of the world going by. As long as the film’s good enough, it is a place where my brain is actually capable of switching off from life’s worries, wants, and questions, to focus instead only on what’s in front of me on the screen.
As the predominantly digital 2020 edition of the Toronto International Film Festival comes to a close this weekend, I’ve felt the ache of separation from the cinema even more. Film festival screenings are something altogether quite special, no matter the size of the festival.
7:15am – the only time of the day you’d usually see King Street West so empty during TIFF.
It’s sitting in a tiny theatre screen having watched a phenomenal film that you never would have even heard of otherwise, with a nervous filmmaker often tucked into the third row vying for the emotion of the room. It’s the films that surprise you, that you talk about with your friends until the early hours of the morning tucked in the corner of some bar; all the while knowing that at the next table over, the same discussion is going on about a film you have yet to discover. It’s waking up before dawn to stumble from the darkness of your bedroom to the darkness of a cinema and be brought to a story before you’ve even finished your morning coffee.
I love film, and even without cinemas, I would never stop watching film. But watching films at home is never quite the same experience. At home, there is always another distraction. Halfway through, you glance up and remember the plants need watering. Your phone rings. You decide to do the dishes. Of the ten films I’ve watched at TIFF this year, all from the confines of my apartment, none of them have absolutely blown me away in the way that I have come to expect at least once during the course of a film festival. I suspect it may have less to do with the films themselves, and more to do with the fact that I’m not in an environment that’s very conducive to blowing.
A different kind of viewing experience (admittedly, one that could also happily include Indian food).
Many industry news outlets were quick to declare the pandemic to be the death of the movie theatre. With ticket sales already declining over the years as the popularity of on-demand streaming services like Netflix grew exponentially, cinemas have suffered. At least across Canada, cinemas have reopened but with the constant reshuffling and rescheduling of the 2020 release calendar, pickings are slim. Beyond Christopher Nolan’s Tenet, there’s little currently on offer to pull in large audiences – as large as they can safely get with distancing measures in place. Even then, Tenet has a made a fraction at the box office compared to what it could have expected under normal circumstances, just hitting $200 million globally after the first few weeks. To put that into context: for a picture that cost $200 million to make, it needs to hit $400 million just to break even.
I’m not really worried about Nolan, or Warner Bros., or even particularly the big movie theatre chains like Cineplex in Canada. I don’t believe that there will come a time when there won’t be an audience for in-theatre film screenings. The fact that many of the limited physical screenings at TIFF had sold out before general ticket sales even began is testament to this.
I do worry about the smaller, independent theatres. And I especially worry about the small, independent filmmakers and their films. The exposure film festivals can give to such projects is invaluable, bringing an audience that might not otherwise find its way there. There are films I’ve seen at festivals that I have never found anywhere ever again. There are films I’ve seen at festivals that have changed my perspective and my way of thinking. There are films I’ve seen at festivals that have brought me lifelong friends. The world needs these films. People need these films.
Where TIFF would usually shine a light on such films, with a heavily reduced programme adapted for the format, there are many that will get lost into the chaos of this year. (I wrote a piece for maggie on diversity at this year’s festival given this reduction, particularly in regards to women, which you should check out if you haven’t already). The question is, if big-budget studio titles are suffering financially from this, what does that suggest for independent filmmakers?
On a personal level, as someone who’s worked the film festival circuit for the past six years, I also just miss the festival of it all. I miss the obvious things just as much as I miss the things I always hated at the time. I miss going up and down dozens of flights of stairs a day. I miss getting called away to look at something the moment I try to sit down and eat. I miss getting stuck in a corridor struggling under a huge box of brochures because Luke Wilson is trying to find a bathroom.
Running on 4 hours of sleep… But I still wish I could be back there.
We’ll get it back, or so I have to keep telling myself. It’s the thought I held onto as I stood on King Street West this past week, by the bright lights of the TIFF Bell Lightbox, and stared at the deserted street. When you next catch me complaining about being on my feet all day at a film festival, feel free to remind me of this moment. Because right now, I’d give anything to be right there.
For reference, the films/events I’ve watched as part of TIFF 2020 are:
Enemies of the State
One Night in Miami…
Inconvenient Indian
Shadow in the Cloud
Another Round
In Conversation with… Ava DuVernay
Summer of 85
76 Days
The New Corporation
The Best is Yet to Come
Falling
A Suitable Boy (1-6)
With the reduced programme, I wanted to do a quick breakdown of of my diversity stats in comparison to the festival’s:
58.3% of titles watched were by BIPOC filmmakers; TIFF programme, 48%
16.67% featured LGBTQ storylines; TIFF programme, 14%
58.3% were created by women; TIFF programme, 45%.