STAR-GAZING AND QUEUE-HOPPING IN TORONTO

Peter Ustinov once described Toronto as New York run by the Swiss. It is true that Torontonians are a polite lot, usually too modest to pester famous folks for autographs or photos. But something funny happens in my hometown every September. As the Toronto International Film Festival’s red carpet unfurls, celebrity stalkers emerge from hiding and descend on downtown haunts for a brush with Hollywood.

Suddenly everyone looks a little dressed up and big sunglasses are ubiquitous. In bars and restaurants near the festival's sprawling playground, the first question people ask each other is: “Have you seen a film?” Then: "Have you seen anyone famous?” National newspapers forego the usual headlines about weather or a murder to make way for the shiny faces of George Clooney and Jennifer Connelly. For two precious weeks businesses boom, weirdly beautiful people are everywhere and last call is not until 4am.

Getting festival tickets used to be easy, a matter of turning up at the box office moments before the show. But in its 34 years, TIFF has become one of the world’s pre-eminent arts festivals, and its focus has shifted from small independent projects to glitzy blockbusters. Now getting an advance ticket to one of the 300-plus films is a protracted process, which can involve complex forms and long queues. And tickets do not ensure seats. Film lovers are often seen lining Toronto's streets for up to an hour before show-time.

This year I spent hours waiting to see such films as "I, Don Giovanni", a sumptuous work about the relationship between composer and librettist; "My Tehran for Sale", about an artist’s struggle to express herself within an oppressive regime; "Cracks", an imaginative look at the lives of girls at an elite British boarding school in the 1930s; and "Baaria", which depicted three generations of family and hardship in southern Italy. These films were well worth the time spent on line in the open autumn air.

Naturally, many can't wait for Hollywood to get out of town. I recall a university professor once balking at seeing Sean Penn smoking indoors on the front page of the newspaper. This is ordinarily a quiet, liveable city, and not a few residents are irked by the celebrity-drunk hordes. Since the festival closed on September 19th, the city has returned to its usual calm. The star gazers have gone home, and residents are once again (mostly) polite and unaggressive. That is, until next September.

~ JULIA BELLUZ

Picture credit: christopherharte, djp3000 (both via Flickr)