“ross” by -nikkon-

At first I thought I was just being a little too sensitive to the sight of construction cranes. After all, they’re not unlike beaky, disciplinarian public school teachers with their exaggerated snoot in every page of last night’s incomplete homework. Then the reading glasses come off and that evil scowl emerges. “Can you explain this, Patrick?” *shudder*

But that’s not it. There really is a lot of construction going on. In just about every direction you turn, there’s a cross educator:

Okay, well, the big ones are more like a cross. And angrier. For example:

That’s is the TIFF / Bell Lightbox, kitty-corner from where this year’s TIFFery took place. I think it’s designed to loom ominously like that.  It certainly doesn’t yet scream “film festival!!” to me.

Not all construction hangs over the city like the cold face of death, though. Take Trump Tower, for example:

Nice lid, right? And what does The Donald have to say about his new erection?

“The thing that excites me most is the architecture. Secondly, I believe that the location of this building by itself will make it very successful. So you have a combination of great location and great architecture—and that’s going to be something very special.”

Sure is, Donald. It’s a winning formula: Donald Trump™ Excitement ® + location = oodles of cash

Secondly, I hope that’s what he means by “special”.

Anyhow, these are just a couple of the more interesting taller buildings. There are many more, including ones that aren’t so tall:

I don’t think I’d be exaggerating if I said that between any two main intersections, you’d find at least two large construction sites.

I was going to stop the post here without any real point, as I am wont to do. But as I was flipping through the news over an especially messy lunch today (I must omit the details), I found a Toronto Star article about office vacancies and how they’re linked to unemployment. It deftly reveals how all this new office space is opening downtown — I can attest to that! — followed up with unemployment statistics. Get it? Those buildings are stealing our jobs!

I knew it — now it’s cranes and immigrant buildings. And Trump’s mixed in with all this too.

(Sorry about that last link. Have to keep it up as a bleak reminder never to drink and blog again.)

Okay, so now it’s going to look like I’m obsessed with movie stars or something. But that’s not it at all. I just happen to pass the TIFF bigwig red carpet every day, and the bigwigs just happen to be there. In essence, they’re making themselves available for me. I’ll drop in for half an hour but, I mean, I’ve got other things to do. If they can move it along and show some appreciation for my sacrifice, I’ll humour them. I’m not a jerk.

They’re usually pretty courteous and … oh look! It’s Keanu Reeves!

Thanks, Keanu. You’re looking … well.

But Rebecca Miller, she’s too transfixed by someone’s scruffy locks to say hi to me:

… Continue Reading

Roy Thomson Hall. TIFF premiere of something starring someone.

“Who’s here tonight?”

*mumble* ” Sheen.”

“Martin Sheen? Really? I didn’t know he was supposed to come.”

“Yeah.”

“Haha! You can’t handle the truth!”

“What?”

“You know … from that movie?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

I was sceptical.

I’m not very good with names, but I was pretty certain that no *mumble* Sheen was involved with A Few Good Men. The shrug that I got along with “Oh. Yeah”, also made me think that Martin Sheen wouldn’t be showing up. But before I had a chance to ask anyone else, people started to arrive for the premiere.

First to stroll up the path  (guess the locals walk — or take the bus), were a few members of Toronto FC, the city’s red-scarf-donning professional soccer club:

With Jim Brennan (the team captain), and his cadre making an appearance, I figured the movie had something to do with soccer. Or football, as the majority British crowd was calling it. Those were also important clues :)

While I waited for the search of the evening’s screening schedule to load up on my mobile, I exchanged pleasantries with retired general and current mayor, David Miller:

Many people think that because of Miller’s handling of the War on Trash, he might be out of a job come the next municipal election. I was also disappointed that after a forty day strike, he ended up giving the unions everything they asked for.

Oh well.

Let’s ask these people what they think:

Never heard of Miller. Who struck who now?

But, as it turns out, the British couple had seen The Damned United (the movie being premiered), a full six months earlier. The gentleman confirmed that it was indeed a football pic about Brian Clough, the manager of the Leeds United football club. Mr. Clough’s part was was played by Michael Sheen, which explained the earlier confusion about the name. Except that I still had no idea who Michael Sheen was. But then … oh look! It’s Michael Sheen!

Riiiight!

He played the leader of the Lycans in Underworld and, more recently, British TV personality David Frost in Frost/Nixon. No relation to Martin Sheen.

I like to think that if I’m ever being held hostage and threatened with my life unless I can identify who this actor is, I’ll walk away safe and sound. Not sure what circumstances would lead me to be in such a situation, or why my captors would ask such a question, but at least I’ll be prepared.

Of course, I’ll still stand around future red carpet events like an ignorant potato. I could find out who’s coming, but unless my life’s in danger, what’s the point?

I remember last year’s TIFF taking up a lot more real estate. Probably because they had decided to sell tickets just off Yonge Dundas Square, and all the latte-bearing movie-goers hogged up the sidewalk for a week. This year, most of the red carpet entrances are happening at Metro Hall / Roy Thomson Hall. Guess I’m just a bumpkin, but I’ve never seen an illumination balloon before:

So now that I’ve been a-gawkin’ for the first time I can say that there’s an awful lot of standing around and scratching your butt. The stars come in piece-meal, irregularly spaced, and they don’t stick around long. Out of of the hour or so that I stood there, maybe five or six TIFF SUVs rolled bearing someone or other. A Toyota Camry also made an appearance; no idea who that was. But still, you had to stay on your toes because … oh look! It’s Jennifer Connelly!

Then, whoosh! Inside. Didn’t even autograph my butt cheeks; isn’t that kinda rude? I used to have a crush on you, Jennifer! *sigh*

And then more waiting. I quickly lost my illusion that the event was being televised live or something because even the hosts did a lot of standing around:

I could see how there can be a lot of alcohol involved in the live broadcast industry. Later, when I saw the edited broadcast at YDS, some of the responses that the interviewers got made me wince. Calling Jennifer “smokin’ hot” in front of her husband seemed inappropriate. And a lot of the questions really missed anything substantial, like what she thought of her dresses in Creation, the Charles Darwin biopic she was cracking the seal on. Paul Bettany was asked about his inspiration, his thoughts on Origin of the Species, etc. The bunch watching the rebroadcast at YDS were less enthusiastic than even Jennifer seemed to be:

So the delayed feed isn’t a crowd pleaser. It is better to be there live. But YDS did fill up once the band came on:

That’s DJ Champion on the decks. You can hear for yourself what it sounded like: http://www.djchampion.net/

I’m a big fan of deep house, and I don’t snub my nose at other styles of house, but this just didn’t catch me. Sounds like it’s trying to be all things to all people, so it comes across as a bit of a dud. To me, anyway.

Aw, who cares. Plenty of options out there; the Dixie Chicks are coming!

Haha! Nah, just kidding. My inner snob is alive and well there. I’m sure there’ll be more stuff; hope doesn’t die with a twang. And the butt cheeks may yet have a signature on them.

Tuesday, September 8th. The day when all of Toronto crawls painfully out of bed to get the crusty kids to school, crusty husband/wife to their jobs, and crusty selves to their own. The only people that didn’t seem crusty on Tuesday were the folks at Citytv. That’s because they’d just moved into their new building:

The Citytv crew made a big to-do about how the station would now be in the actual heart of the city. They’re probably right, but I suspect they just wanted to be closer to my place. Either way, it was a wise decision.

The move has been in the works for about two years. Gord Martineau, Citytv’s sneering six o’clock news anchor, has pitilessly plugged his involvement in the move stating that he was the one who brought up the idea with boss Ted Rogers, the guy who owns every co-ax cable in Toronto (and then some).

The building itself was an Olympics-themed tourist attraction for a couple of years, hence the big cone-torch thingie at the top. Aside from the pleasantly phallic symbolism (granted, a horribly deformed phallus), the building also forms an interesting arch over the intersection of Victoria and Dundas. Streetcar tracks go through the arch but there are no open power lines, probably because the construction workers were afraid of electrocution. Babies. Anyway, I’m certain that once they open it up it’ll make for a great place to throw back a couple of swigs of paper-bagged hooch, away from scornful eyes.

But Gord’s masturbatory visions weren’t the only things making headlines on Tuesday. U. of T. and York U. put their first-year students through the wash for the first day of frosh week:

All the noobs were baptized in the waters of City Hall with a ritual involving a Kindergarten-style initiation. A girl on a megaphone shouted out some rhyming instructions with all the students acting out the directions while repeating what she said. The Universities were only mentioned a couple of times during the chanting; they spent more time pretending to be alligators, crabs, and sleeping monkeys. Hurray for our future workforce!

What a time to lose my internet connection! And with TIFF coming up ‘n all:

Couldn’t have come at a worse time. Despite George Clooney and I being best buds, I doubt he’ll postpone his arrival for my technical difficulties.  I bet he’s disappointed.

Sorry, George. You’ll have to takeit up with my ISP. I tried and I guess I’m just not famous enough.