Saw
The Writer of O
Bluebird
Z Channel: A Magnificent Obsession
Café Lumière
Breaking News
Dead Man's Shoes
ScaredSacred
A Good Woman
Kontroll
The Holy Girl
Mysterious Skin
Throwdown
Calvaire
Forgiveness
Lila dit ça
Dead Birds
Spider Forest
Palindromes
Nobody Knows
Phil the Alien
Ma Mère
Innocence
Tarnation
3-Iron
Les Revenants
The Machinist
Creep
Tell Them Who You Are
Undertow
After the Day Before
Ghost in the Shell: Innocence
Final Cut: The Making and Unmaking of Heaven's Gate

I'm your new friend Sam!
Sep 19 2004 - 10:52 p.m.

Tederick.com's coverage of TIFF 2004 concludes today, with my final review, of the long-awaited Saw. Unfortunately, this flick looks to have been a simple case of a screenwriter not knowing what he had. It's a shame to level this kind of complaint against a flick, but I could have made a way better Saw than the actual Saw.

The review list will continue to grow over the coming week as Matthew, Meredith and Daniel turn in the remainder of their reviews... and then there's nothing left to do but wait for next year.

I had a great time in '04, saw a whole shitload of movies (over double the number from last year) and just lived like a gangster for ten days. I kinda wish I'd brought champagne to the final Midnight Madness, because as usual, Colin was right: fuck the after-party, fuck the galas... the film festival ends at around 2:00 in the morning in a theatre packed with salivating genre fans screaming their heads off as Cary Elwes goes after his own ankle with a hand saw. That's the point of the whole damned show for me, and last night we took this son of a bitch down with style.

And since lists are fun, and cuz everyone keeps asking me:

The Best: Tell Them Who You Are

The Honourable Mentions: Bluebird, Café Lumière, Mysterious Skin, Calvaire, Forgiveness, Lila dit ça, Palindromes, 3-Iron

The Worst: Phil the absolutely fucking worthless Alien

My thanks to everyone who's made the past ten days what they were. I'm very, very tired, but I'll be back up and watching Star Wars by morning. And then, maybe everything will start to get back to normal.

Sky fits heaven
Sep 18 2004 - 6:29 p.m.

You don't even want to know how incredibly beautiful Alison Lohman is in person. Like, that's just information you don't fucking need. It's information I didn't need, either, but I got it anyway, in the ticket-holders line for The Writer of O today. I just turned around and she was standing behind me with her boyfriend, just another girl in line, except that it was Alison Lohman and it was like an angel had fallen on earth. I would have said hi, except that I felt like all the oxygen had been suddenly sucked out of my body. Then there was a whole "standing and staring" thing that I'm not too proud of.

This has only happened with one celeb before, and that was Amber Benson, and Tederick.commies know how long it took for me to get over that one, so on the whole it's probably better that I didn't talk to her.

Mer checks in today with a review of the contro-flick Casuistry, which I didn't want to see for about a zillion good reasons. Doesn't sound like I missed much, which is always nice.

O was my last regular movie, and I was so in form that I was actually irritating the people around me. Listened to my iPod through the speeches and the trailers, filled my last notebook page, put my sunglasses on and took a nap, and then walked out cuz it was all just that boring. It felt great.

I watched the sun set on festival alley, I took one last look at my schedule, and I headed home. My schedule has become the central document of the past ten days; here it is, for posterity's sake:

Can't wait to see Saw tonight, and send this fucker out with a bang. See Saw. Heh. We're all so fond of our little joke.

I'll toss up the final review, along with some more from Matthew and Mer, at some point tomorrow, but I don't know when. It's Hermione's birthday, after all.

Everything or nothing
Sep 18 2004 - 3:17 p.m.

I very nearly punched out and went home after Bluebird, because it was really, really freakin' good and I'm fairly certain that The Writer of O is going to be not-so-good and I was sick of sitting in the ROM anyway. But it's an absolutely gorgeous day, I'm young (till tomorrow), healthy, and alive, so fuck it: I'm staying. I'm going to miss this when it's gone.

Let's see, where were we... right, Rahtree: Flower of the Night. I walked out; it was my third walkout of the fest thus far. In this case (unlike with Phil the Alien or Throwdown, I won't be giving the film a review, because I didn't really give it a fair shot: it was midnight last night, and I knew that today was gonna be a 21-hour nutcruncher, and after forty minutes of not giving a fuck, I figured I'd rather get the extra hour of sleep. And as Matty Price and I were saying on the way home, you gotta feel for Colin Geddes. He's the only programmer at TIFF with legitimate brand identification - he has to, basically, get up on top of a burning car with a megaphone and say "THIS IS WHAT I LIKE!" It's a damn ballsy position to be in, and this year's MM lineup cannot be commended highly enough. So I feel kinda bad about not giving Rahtree a fair chance, but hey, 30 movies in ten days. A man can only do so much.

This morning was the first and only time of the festival that when my alarm went off, I legimately didn't know what the fuck was going on. I kinda just squinted at the clock for a good minute or so before fully collecting in my mind the fact that I was a) me, b) actually supposed to be getting up now, c) needing to get my ass out of bed right away, and d) going to the last day of the festival. The day when there's absolutely no effort made by anyone to even pretend we aren't sick of that fucking TIFF trailer, or that we haven't seen Makeup Interrupted fourteen times since Wednesday, or that yes, it's okay for you to sit there. Today was a big "No, fuck off" kind of a day. But there's a bit of liberation in that.

The first flick of the day was Z Channel: A Magnificent Obsession, which I'd been looking forward to; sadly, I was fairly disappointed. It was entertaining and I never minded watching it, but I had my problems. Fortunately, the second flick of the day was Bluebird which I enjoyed utterly (as did Samara and her sister, who I met up with accidentally in line for the show). Lyra, it made me a believer: if there's a 12-year-old girl out there who can give a performance like this, then His Dark Materials is a sinch. We just need to find the right girl.

So I'm back in the cyber cafe, trying to remember how to code again; I'll give O my level best before going home to prepare for Saw, the single film - I think - that I have been looking most forward to, for this entire festival.

No shittin', I have exactly one page of paper left in my notebook. Spooky.

Die fat and happy
Sep 17 2004 - 8:21 p.m.

It wasn't until a couple of moments ago that I realized what was so significantly different about today - I was actually, like, awake. I got close to 11 hours of sleep last night, so today has felt surprisingly normal. Which means, of course, that it feels utterly abnormal. I'm sure I'll be back to sleepy soon, with screenings booked tomorrow from 9 a.m. until midnight. And then it's my birthday.

I saw two flicks today, and both were surprisingly excellent. Breaking News was my second experience with Johnnie To this week, the first being Wednesday's walkout of Throwdown. After the film I was treated to a surprise dash, when I realized - a bit too late - that I had to get from the Paramount to the Varsity in about twenty minutes. Still, it all worked out, and I caught Café Lumière, which is standing proof that Good Bye Dragon Inn is just a bad movie. For a whole year I've been worried that it was just me, that I wasn't up to the flick, but no. Gubdi just basically sucks, because Lumière is also an ultra-slow-moving movie about nothing in which very little actually happens, yet I enjoyed it thoroughly. So there.

After the flick I took a ginormous bus ride to Richmond Hill, after discovering last night that the bus from my house goes right to my DVD store. (In 90 minutes.) And I've got my Star Wars, and though I haven't watched more than a minute yet, I can at least say this: I have never seen these movies look this good, ever. The image quality is unbelievable.

Two people have now called me and told me that I have to sell my mother to see Primer tomorrow. I ain't gonna, cuz I can't afford the money or the time. But sometimes it really feels like I've missed the very best of this year's festival. I've seen a lot of great ones, but I still haven't seen a Temps du Loup or a Jeux d'Enfants.

We Live in a Beautiful World
Sep 17 2004 - 9:59 a.m.

All kinds of Matty Price reviews are in like Quinn: Off Beat, Mondovino, The Alzheimer Case, and Silver City. Man I wish I'd seen Alzheimer. Fuck!

I got two flicks today, then a mysterious voyage to Richmond Hill, then Rahtree, and then it's all-ROM, all-the-time tomorrow for closing. Man I hate the ROM.

But I look at that towering review list and I can't help but go "holy shit." I was never expecting this year to be this big. Many thanks to Matthew and Mer!

Kung Fu Shuffle
Sep 16 2004 - 9:34 p.m.

The folks at the box office were nice to me and exchanged my defunct Kung Fu Hustle ticket for tomorrow night's midnight, Rahtree: Flower of the Night. So that's good news. And because I wasn't pushing my luck enough, after they did me this favour, I stole the last two copies of the Claire Danes issue of Now from their office. Because I'm a bitch.

Today I went to see A Good Woman, which I enjoyed, followed by ScaredSacred and Dead Man's Shoes, neither of which were particularly impressive, so the day tilts downward and I'm in a bad mood.

I'll tell you what though: even given that she's about half a decade too young, Scarlett Johanssen is the perfect choice to play Emma Frost. If I hear Charlize Theron one more damn time I'm going to start splitting heads. Johanssen could kick the shit out of that part. And the notion of seeing her in the split-X white leather... well... yeah.

It's been a whole week of frustrating delayed gratification; my Star Wars DVDs are in, but I can't quite get to them yet. And Sky Captain, one of the films I've been most looking forward to this year, is coming out tomorrow, but I seriously doubt I'll be in the mood to go to a movie again for a good six or eight weeks. I'm frickin' exhausted, my ass is perma-numb, and I've seen the inside of far too many theatres for one lifetime.

Control, control, you must learn control!
Sep 16 2004 - 10:57 a.m.

My 9:00 a.m. screening was cancelled at the last minute last night; this was both really bad (I really wanted to see Kung Fu Hustle) and really good (sleep! beautiful sleep!). I really needed the latter; I damn near slept through half of Kontroll, which I was enjoying thoroughly... when you're nodding off in a movie that good, things are problematic.

So, it'll be three flicks today, and then home in the evening for a nice long layover. Everything feels like it's winding down.

Here's Mer's review of Land of Plenty, another flick I won't be seeing... I was going to try to swap out my Kung Fu ticket to get into this thing tomorrow night, but now, I probably won't bother.

"Eurotrip was pure cinematic genius"
Sep 15 2004 - 8:03 p.m.

On the whole, this three-film day came nowhere near yesterday's three-film day: two pieces of shit and one piece of greatness makes for a poor overall average. The day started with Throwdown, my second walkout of the festival. In this case, I didn't walk out from any overwhelming awfulness, nor did I walk out in time to save any portion of the day; with ten minutes left in the film, Matty Price and I just decided that really, we'd rather be eating breakfast. We devoured Griddlecakes and pie-in-the-skied casting for subculture.

Mysterious Skin, on the other hand, was far more worthwhile; I ran into Dan again, and Amy joined us. For the life of me I don't know why I didn't bring my camera today; it didn't occur to me until I was in the theatre that Michelle might actually be at the screening, even though - in some part of my addled brain - I knew she was in town. When the Q&A started, I asked Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Ms. Trachtenberg as well, to comment on going from "the kid" roles on major television series to tackling more mature work. Both actors are simply exceptional in Skin, Gordon-Levitt particularly, and both talked about their process a little bit. Once the Q&A was over I rushed up to the front to shake Gregg Araki's hand, and then pounced on Michelle.

I had to race over to the cyber cafe to blog about that, which put me behind schedule for The Holy Girl. Here's where we're at on this thing: it's hard not to notice the number of times "burgeoning womanhood" is used as a descriptive in the festival guide, and the number of girl coming-of-age stories this year is verging on the ridiculous. And while the first time you see a pretty teenaged girl drop trou and frig herself into sweet oblivion on screen, it's like "mmm... how European," by Day 8, your response becomes "put your clothes on, for crying out loud, I've got another screening to get to." That's where we're at with this thing.

Going to Kontroll tonight, and then a big four-screenings-in-eight-hours day tomorrow, but it's already started: the festival is officially tailing off. Things will be returning to normal soon.

Dawn
Sep 15 2004 - 3:16 p.m.

Yup, I just met Michelle Trachtenberg. Shook the hand of Michelle Trachtenberg. Posed questions of Michelle Trachtenberg. Walked up the aisle of the Varsity 8 with Michelle Trachtenberg, chatting about her Buffy time vs. her ongoing career, on our way out of Mysterious Skin, which is freakin' awesome, by the way. The guy talking to Michelle Trachtenberg? Yup, that was me.

**Sigh of contentment.**

So I've met Amber and I've met Michelle; I gots ta get me some James Marsters hand-shakin', and meet the entire cast of Firefly, and then I think I'll be just about ready to pray at the altar of the Whedon himself.

Belgians
Sep 15 2004 - 2:09 a.m.

First of all: YAY CANADA!!!

Sleep did me good. Got a couple of hours, and the only downside I can see is that now, I'm all hyper. But that could be because I just saw a wicked flick: Calvaire, the latest Midnight Madness and the one to which I've been looking forward to the most (except for Saw). Great stuff.

And Mer chimes in with a review of Unconscious. Can you say: "Tederick.com Rules the World," anyone?

Downtime
Sep 14 2004 - 5:13 p.m.

I've been doing great. Hump day's behind me and I'm feeling good. Still, watching the excellent Forgiveness this afternoon, I realized that there's a bit of a restlessness building, and since my next scheduled rest period isn't until Thursday night - with two Midnights between now and then - I decided to cash out and come home. I sold my ticket for The Assassination of Richard Nixon, because a) I never wanted to see it in the first place, only buying it to fill a slot, and b) because Matthew saw it yesterday and didn't like it. The potential for seven hours at home, five of which could be sleep, was a bit too tempting to ignore.

Matty Price checks in with four more reviews today: Ferpect Crime, I Heart Huckabees (I am damn well not going looking for a heart symbol right now), The Merchant of Venice, and 10th Chamber.

All right, naptime now.

Bright, Sunshiney
Sep 14 2004 - 1:39 p.m.

Boy, it's been a long time since I've had to code HTML by hand. I'm in a cyber cafe between screenings, because I am just that dedicated to you, my Tederick.commies. And I saw an absolutely wicked flick this morning, Lila dit ça, which was a fantastic way to start the day. It's a great, bubble-gum pop movie from France, but it improves over similar American content by being so fresh, honest... and let's face it, nut-achingly hot.

Speaking of which, I officially have perma-buttache. My butt no longer goes back to feeling okay after screenings; it just continues to have that "I've been sitting for too long" feeling. This will probably continue for a couple of weeks.

The young lady who plays Lila in the film, whose name is actually Vahina for goodness' sake, was in attendance in the screening, and man, look out if the right people see this movie: there was a palpable "a star is born" feeling today. Not to mention, she's one of those annoying celebrities who is actually more spectacular in person - she plays someone in the film who is often compared to an angel, but that descriptor doesn't do the genuine article any kind of justice. Matty Price and I had to get the hell out of there as soon as we came within five feet of her. Matthew got in a very excited conversation with a pregnant woman on the escalator out of the Paramount, nearly knocking her to her death at one point, but that too is the joy of the film festival: connecting with total strangers who are just as jazzed about what they've just seen as you are. We passed Michael Ondaatje on our way out, hit the Burito Boys for lunch, and here I am.

So, seven new reviews are now up, not just for Lila dit ça, but for all of yesterday's stuff as well: Dead Birds, Spider Forest, Palindromes, Nobody Knows, Ma Mère, and the execrable Phil the Alien. TIFF, and all of Phil's sponsors, will be getting a letter from me decrying their terrifically flawed content-selection processes. That film is just a fucking embarassment. It was preceded, incidentally, by an equally-misintentioned BravoFACT short called Boyclops, so BravoFACT is on my list now, as well.

I've got reviews in from Matthew and Mer for several more films over the past few days, but I'll have to post them tonight, I'm dealing with limited technical means here. Hand-coded HTML, I ask you!

Don't look away from the light
Sep 14 2004 - 2:33 a.m.

I'm alive. I've also discovered the secret: never stop watching movies. Six flix today, and when you're jackhammering a new film into your brain every two hours or so, there's no time for sleeping on steps or falling into massive fits of depression. Nope, it's just cinematic heaven. Today was what the film festival was all about.

I got about seven hours of sleep last night, which was relatively paradisial; I actually woke up before my alarm, and just lay around in bed feeling rested. Then it was off to the Cumberland to catch the french incest-o-rama, Ma Mere, and at the very least, on the hardcore mom-son sex front, the flick certainly does not disappoint. It was kind of a sticky way to start the day, but the worst was yet to come: I went to see Phil the Alien, and walked out. Not just walked out: I stormed out in a towering rage. I've never been so mad at a film in my life. I could pull a better movie out of my bleeding asshole than the pure mindless dreck that disgraced our entire country on that screen today. The film is a rallying cry for citizens of good conscience to write to their members of parliament and discuss the government's hand in funding the Canadian film industry, because shit like this simply has to stop. On my way out of the theatre, a TIFF volunteer asked demurely if I would be coming back in; I didn't even break stride but spat over my shoulder, "not in a million fucking years." If Rob Stephaniuk had been in the lobby, I would have hauled off and hit him.

So pissed off that I was literally walking down Bloor repeating "son of a bitch!" over and over again, I joined Matty Price for lunch, and then calmed down significantly in my next film, Nobody Knows, which was way too slow for my headspace, but otherwise entertaining. Then I completely lucked out and got into the rush line for Palindromes and made it in, having spent the day expecting to utterly fail; not only was the film the best I saw today, but Todd Solondz's Q&A afterwards was a treat. I asked him about the potential legal implications of his depictions of sexual activity involving a 12-year-old girl, particularly in the U.S.A.'s current neo-fascist mindset. He told me I was freaking him out.

I killed a nasty Taco Bell dinner in about four minutes flat, before dashing off to see Spider Forest, which contains far too few spiders and far too much forest, and then I flew down to the Ryerson for my final screening, the Midnight Madness presentation of Dead Birds... with Henry Thomas in attendance! On any other night, I would have tried to score the handshake, but I was already put off by the jackass behind me yelling "Elliotttttt!" at the top of his lungs, and besides... six flix. Long damn day. I boarded the vomit comet to get home, and tried to pay with a movie stub.

So obviously, it's waaaaaayyyyyyyyy too much reviewing for me to do tonight, but I'll try to get some of today's stuff up tomorrow, either from a cyber cafe around noonish, or from home at some point in the evening.

But first: check me out with my lightsabre and my fine threads, at the wedding on Friday:

And lastly: a big note of congratulations to our good friend Hope, who just became engaged! Way to go, DVD goddess!

I lost it at the movies
Sep 13 2004 - 12:53 a.m.

I mark the Sunday of the festival as the end of the process' first part, and truly, we're into a whole new gear tomorrow and Tuesday: nine (and possibly ten) films between them, and not a whole lot of time for anything else, even reviewing. It might be a few days before I'm back; I highly doubt I'll be in any fit state to write when I'm crawling home at 3 in the morning.

Today I lost it; I had a couple of hours to kill between screenings and ended up falling asleep on the steps of the Manulife Center. At least it was reasonably warm out.

Otherwise it was a great day: two excellent films, one good one, and only one pile of crap. From best to worst, they're 3-Iron, a terrific modern fairy tale; Tarnation, a nifty experimental doc; Les Revenants, a decent fantasy picture; and Innocence, a deeply flawed tale of schoolchildren and the crazy shit they get into.

The day started with Revenants, which I had been looking very much forward to. It turned out to be a disappointment, although it's by no means a bad film; it's just not as great as I wanted it to be, or as I think the director is capable of being. After that, Matty Price and I gunned it over to the Ryerson to catch 3-Iron, which Jason recommended to me; he was absolutely right, and the flick became the second great movie I've seen at this year's festival. The Revenants / 3-Iron relay was also the only true dash of this year's fest, 20 short minutes to get from A to B. We didn't panic.

It's become customary for me to, after the TIFF trailer ends, turn to the person next to me and say "makeup, lighting, or volunteers?" Makeup is winning by a landslide, but lighting is edging its way in there. The volunteers, as usual, are getting screwed.

We met up with Dan on the way out and grabbed lunch at Spring Rolls, which is offering a fest dealie with your ticket stub. The noodleries at Yonge & Bloor are a key component of my festival experience; it's good food on the go, and yes, you get hungry five minutes later, but you don't mind while you're eating. It's also just a good spot to sit around and argue about everything you've seen thus far. Dan was quite taken with Hotel Rwanda, so hopefully he'll toss us a review soon.

My next flick was Tarnation, where I bumped into Mark and Carrie completely unintentionally. I was so impressed by the film that I stuck around for the Q&A afterwards; I asked Jonathan Caouette about the editing process, and wanted to ask about the music as well, but time ran out.

As a rule, though, I am so over Q&A's. I've taken religiously to sitting on the aisles so I can get the fuck out of any theatre I'm in as soon as the credits roll. I'm also getting used to sitting in weirder and weirder spaces... off to the side, way up at the back, anywhere to frustrate the experience just enough to keep me awake.

After Tarnation, there was the great gap. I wrote my reviews, I got something to eat, but I still wound up sitting on the steps of the Varsity at magic hour, listening to R.E.M., giggling to myself out of context, and questioning the futility of the entire damned universe. Not a good head space. Then I noticed that I'd missed a couple of tracks on my iPod; I was probably asleep for a total of about five minutes. Vowing never to do that again, I took off and caught Innocence, and then shuttled home very irritated by poor child casting.

I get almost seven full hours to sleep tonight, so I'm gonna get to that before Big Monday formally starts.

Machine parts
Sep 12 2004 - 3:07 a.m.

The Machinist was not the flick to be watching at Midnight Madness on day three. I didn't need to see what insomnia can do to the human body.

I'm one degree of Kevin Bacon! I saw him coming out of a screening today and called out to him; I was promptly drowned out by the ten thousand pubescent sluts calling out to Orlando Bloom. This was after my marathon race from Mark's burlesque show to the Ryerson, which I wouldn't have made in time, had the Hollywood hype machine not slowed everything down. I didn't know who to hate.

So tired...

I don't believe in trouble, I don't believe in pain, I don't believe there's nothing left but running here again
Sep 11 2004 - 7:00 p.m.

It's a gorgeous Saturday and I'm posting at an ordinary time. I'm swinging back into the core for tonight's Midnight, but boy it's nice to devote some actual brain-space to writing decent reviews, especially since this was the day, the day I've been waiting for: I finally saw a really, really, really great film today. Being five films in when this happened, I was starting to get that lingering-malaise thing going; everything I've seen thus far has been "fair to good," but Tell Them Who You Are is fan-fucking-tastic. I shook Mark Wexler's hand afterwards and damn near burst into tears. Ah, sleep depravity... what wonderful emotional tidepools you shunt us through.

But yeah. Great day. It started with David Gordon Green's Undertow at the Paramount, whereupon I had my first encounter with Thin Ebert (following on my most recent encounter with Fat Ebert a couple of years ago). Along those lines, the inclusion of the Paramount in the festival venue lineup has let me add Burito Boys and Fusario's to the lunch list, and walking along Queen Street this morning with a grilled panini and a Coke, listening to my iPod, having just seen Undertow and on my way to see Tell Them at the Elgin, I was the single happiest film geek on earth.

After Tell Them I had to duck north to pick up my One Minute Film & Video Festival cards, doing a double-fisted Jango with my cell phone and a bottle of Perrier. This is the only time of year that I don't hate my cell phone; it's a fundamental part of this lifestyle, as Jason, Matthew and I all criss-cross fervently, tyring to snag a few minutes together to talk about flicks. And that's what it's all about. I barely made it back to the Paramount in time to meet Kate for the Franka Potente fright-fest, Creep. After that, I actually got to go home and do this. Yay me.

Also, Matthew tunes in with another guest review, Don McKellar's much-anticipated Childstar, and Meredith Dault joins the roster with two reviews of her own: Cool, and Touch the Sound. It's only Day 3, and our review list looks huge! We do nothing in half-measures around here, no sir.

Today I figured out how this is all going to end: I'll live to be 101 to witness the 100th anniversary of Star Wars, as planned, but I'll have Alzheimer's by then, and won't be able to remember the flick. I'll watch it on May 25 2077, believing I've never seen it before, and hate it...

Oh my love, what a long way we've come
Sep 10 2004 - 11:59 p.m.

On September 10 2000, Chad and Andria met. Tonight, four years to the day later, we celebrated their wedding, in the most gobsmackingly beautiful ceremony I've ever seen. It was hard not to get tear-happy when Andria came down the aisle, radiating light and happiness, or crack a gigantic grin when Chad and Andria took over the dancefloor to sing the Elephant Love Medley to each other. We've sure come a long way.

I first met Chad in the Episode I line, after which we remained friendly, and saw one another sporadically. It's one of the great treasures of my life, then, that just in the past year or so, he has become such a dear and trusted friend to me. We share Buffy, we share comics, we share more Firefly giggles than is probably healthy for anyone, but that's all just icing on the cake. He's got my back in ways that few others ever have.

The first thing I remember about Andria is just how hellblazingly jealous I became of Chad on the first night that I met her. In all the years I've known her, she has never failed to glow with an inner light. She is one of the most loving, accepting people I have ever known, with a wicked sense of fun to boot. And she and Chad really are made for each other. I can write no higher praise.

I've been to a few weddings at this point, and it always bothers me when I see a couple treat the event as a series of pre-planned photo ops, rather than as a moment in and of itself. This was never a fault tonight. The ceremony was beautiful, but the most important thing was the degree to which Chad and Andria were enjoying it, above all, for themselves. We should all be so lucky.

And yeah, there are some wicked stills on the way of me, Chad, and the groomsmen fooling around with lightsabres. If that isn't proof positive that Chad has found the perfect bride, I don't know what is.

Residency
Sep 10 2004 - 12:10 p.m.

About three hours of sleep, and then the buzzing, and then I realized that not factoring roommates into my TIFF morning routine was stupid. I went to see After the Day Before without having showered, brushed my teeth, or put my contacts in. Yum.

Turns out it didn't really matter; I was in the Paramount 2, and call me a heathen but that is how to see a festival movie. It didn't help my reaction much, but at least I had a good time, and stayed awake, and ran the fuck outta there before the Q and A started.

It's a gorgeous day, my friends are getting married, and I'm feeling nothing but good. And don't worry - I just corrected all the errors in last night's reviews. Three in the morning, I ask you!

But what's this? More reviews? Yup, the outsiders are invading Tederick.com, and the first is Matty Price, with his reviews of Jean-Luc Godard's Notre Musique, and the gala bag-fest Being Julia, two flicks I won't be able to catch this year. In the case of the former, at least, it sounds like I'm missing something good.

Winding Up
Sep 10 2004 - 2:47 a.m.

We're off and running as usual and is it just me, or does this shit hurt a bit more than usual? First rushline: ouch. First Midnight Madness without the Uptown: big ouch. First night where I'm likely to get less than 4 hours of sleep: imagine shall also be filed under "ouch."

My very first rush line... note the considerable lack of an Uptown in the distance

After a panic-shopping debacle upon discovering that my father had accidentally sent back my dry cleaning for tomorrow's wedding, I joined the rush line outside the Varsity to snag a ticket for my first film of the festival, Final Cut. My success in the line was never in question, as I was a hearty second for the duration of my 2½ hours... my survival, on the other hand, really was. A nasty north wind came roaring down the corridor and just about ended my damn life. I haven't been that cold in line since the release of the Star Wars Special Edition, and I stood in three-foot snow for seven hours on that fine January day.

Final Cut wasn't spectacular, but a movie about movies is always a good way to kick off an enterprise like this, so I was contented when I finally got my seat. I've also been really looking forward to Ghost in the Shell, so Jason, Matthew and I trekked down to Midnight Madness' new venue, chatting about Star Wars DVDs, and I thunk to myself, this is what I've been missing.

Colin Geddes takes the stage at Midnight Madness' new venue

Unfortunately, now I'm really missing the Uptown. Sorry, kids, but the Ryerson just ain't gonna cut it... the seats are terrible, the leg room is nonexistent, and you can hear the projector clicking away throughout the film. It's going to be a serious strain to stick out another five or six MMs in this venue. Innocence was also a strange flick to start the roster with. I realize it's got the prestige, but it's not the gasoline-fueled kickstart we've come to expect.

I've got a "languid," "non-linear" European flick first thing in the morning, and then a wedding. I wanna sleep, but I can't get the damn Ghost in the Shell song out of my head...

The last normal morning
Sep 9 2004 - 9:39 a.m.

"Oh god... did you eat all this acid? You'd better pray there's some Thorazine in this bag, man, otherwise you're in bad fucking trouble."

Settle ye, settle ye... Return of the King: EE is confirmed for December 14th.

Then there's this, which is almost too good for me to even get behind. It could be real... but I'll wait till Joss calls me to confirm.

And The Digital Bits has their Star Wars DVD review up, warts and all... worth a read if you want to know what you're getting yourself into on the 21st. Don't forget to sign the OT petition while you're clicking around. But we might as well enjoy this shit where we can, and run up the pirate flag where we can't. The good news is that Luke's ridiculous McDiarmid-cloned scream is apparently out of Empire, and Threepio's been cleaned up on his way into Mos Eisley. The rest falls under "the usual digital alteration crap." Like it or lump it.

So this is it... I've got a date with a rush line at 7:00, and a midnight screening of Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence to really kick things off. Jason and I watched GITS 1 last night to get ready, and I may watch Resident Evil 1 today in like kind to get ready for my desperate zombie dash tomorrow.

Buckle up, folks, wesa goin' to tha movies!