A gorgeous, sunny day in Toronto and I’m the idiot that chose two films about grief for my first two screenings — not intentionally, but that’s sometimes how it rolls. The first was The Shrouds, written and directed by David Cronenberg, and the second also an auteurist drama, Daniela Forever, by the fantastically named Nacho Vigalondo (Colossal).
I understand The Shrouds was inspired by the death of Cronenberg’s wife, so I was expecting something solemn and heartfelt, but this is more of a piece with his last film, Crimes Of The Future as well as Crash and Videodrome. It has Vincent Cassel as Karsh, a tech wizard with very Cronenbergian hair, whose wife (Diane Kruger) died years before. To ease the grief he’s come up with a tech that he’s franchising worldwide — it allows families to witness the slow decay of their loved ones’ bodies in the grave via a screen on the tombstone — or their phones. This tech, however, can be vandalized and hacked — Karsh seeks help from his friend and tech advisor, Maury (Guy Pearce). Also on the scene is Karsh’s “terminally neurotic” sister-in-law, Terry, whose kink is deception, and his AI, Hunny (both Kruger). Karsh is also dating a blind woman (Sandrine Holt). The picture moves from perversely sad to unexpected tech thriller to a satire on conspiracy theorists — it’s a genre trip, while also being undeniably Cronenberg. It feels like the natural conclusion of a filmmaker who spent much of his career obsessed by sex and body horror, to move into mutilation, post-mortem, and perhaps even necrophilia.
Daniela Forever stars Henry Golding as Nicolas, a British DJ living in Madrid, whose girlfriend, Daniela (Beatrice Grannò, excellent in the second season of White Lotus) died when she was struck by a car on the street. A friend recommends an unusual study as possible relief from his grief — Belgian doctors will guide him through an experimental drug that will allow him to lucid dream. The film wastes no time taking us into these dreams — widescreen and digital crisp in dreaming, grain and fuzziness in Academy ratio when he’s awake — and Nicolas also wastes no time ignoring the experiment to spend time with his dead girlfriend in his dreams. The problem is while he controls everything than happens, Daniela is only an amalgam of his memories — he can’t create reality that he hasn’t seen or experienced. This concept has a lot of promise, but the picture doesn’t take it very far — it’s rather happy to loiter in Nicolas’ idealized world and ignore the science fiction elements for a romantic fantasy. Golding has to do a lot of heavy lifting emotionally to carry the piece, and for the most part succeeds. Madrid looks gorgeous, and the sfx impresses — a scene of Nicolas walking down the street as cars bounce off him and float through the air, that’s worth the price of admission. But too often this feels like someone telling you about one of their dreams, rather than living in it.
The Apprentice was an invite-only screening — I gather it won’t be seen by the public at TIFF, though it will screen at AIFF — from director Ali Abbasi, the filmmaker responsible for the terrific Iranian serial killer movie, Holy Spider. This is about how Donald Trump (Sebastian Stan) became a real estate tycoon, with the help of New York lawyer Roy Cohn (Jeremy Strong) from the mid-’70s to the late ’80s. It’s a surprisingly engaging, occasionally trashy film, impressively complex and even-handed while not looking away from Trump’s vulgarities or violence — we get a scene where he rapes his wife, Ivana (Maria Bakalova). Full marks for the perfectly chosen needle drops — I’ve had Baccara’s “Yes Sir, I Can Boogie” in my head ever since the screening.
The acting is Oscar-worthy, especially from Stan, Strong, and Martin Donovan almost unrecognizable as Fred Trump, and the look of the era is terrific — grainy 16mm for the ’70s, garish video for the ’80s, and only occasionally can you tell they shot on Toronto streets doubling for New York. Some are bound to say that Abbasi is too kind to the Sociopath In Chief we all know, though Abbasi, who spoke after the screening, says he wanted to offer a humanistic take on this guy.
He also pointed out that his story ends at the Art Of The Deal, which was 35 years ago — this is not a movie about the man who is President Trump, but who was back then. He said it has distribution in the States and will get a release, even though the producers have received a cease and desist letter from Trump’s lawyers. Can’t wait for people to see it.
A few films I won’t be seeing at TIFF, even though I’m entirely interested: The Substance, Megalopolis, and The Tragically Hip: No Dress Rehearsal. That’s because they’re opening in the next couple of weeks, so I won’t prioritize them here — that’s despite a few unorthodox marketing schemes:
