The Toronto International Film Festival has aged gracefully into its 40th year anniversary. Black directors, actors and writers have enhanced the celebratory occasion with fine performances and artistic contributions in indie films, big budget movies and life-affirming documentaries.
I counted no fewer than a half-dozen films being touted by different bloggers as "the best film of the year" before I even arrived in Canada. A couple of those turned out to be far less impressive than the hype would have you believe.
The best art is that which holds a mirror to our lives. So if we as a society are aging, so too should the talkies. And here Hollywood teaches us one of the most critical lessons about turning global population aging into a sustainable source of economic growth.
Museums such as the Louvre simply would not exist if everyone saw a work of art once, and that's it. Therefore, why would anyone even bother decorating their own house with some art, if only planning to look at it just once? That also, can be the power of film.
It took watching a recent Academy Award nominated film to put forth the following question. Are British actors superior in both talent and desirability, in most cases, than American actors? And it is such a question, which certainly is not the first time it's ever been asked.
Birdman is a feat of technical expertise in search of any real meaning. Its deepest intention seems to be to make us admire Inarritu, and some of the awards the film has won suggest it may have succeeded in that purpose.
Thursday morning when I learned the Academy's list of nominees, I spent the rest of the day alternating between despair and rage. In fact, I have loved movies unabashedly since I was 18 months old and my mother took me to see my first feature.
Thursday morning was a wonderful and terrible morning for Hollywood. Some filmmakers got the once-in-a-lifetime thrill of hearing their names called as Oscar nominees (or, if you're Meryl Streep, 19-times-in-a-lifetime). Others were left empty-handed.