The 42 nd Toronto film festival was notable for a very strong testify of female aptitude not least an adorable coming-of-age comedy directed by Greta Gerwig
It may not have the glamour and appreciation of occasion of Cannes, the romance of Venice or the boutique cliquishness of Telluride, but for sheer capacity and scope, the Toronto international movie celebration( or Tiff, to give it its perkily approachable abbreviation) is hard to beat. Even having cut its programme by 20% this year( about 60 films fewer than previous instalments ), Toronto is a monster of an event.
This means several acts. The first, and least welcome, of these is queues. Miles of them, snaking around the streets of the city for impedes and be administered by organizations that border on the Kafkaesque. Punters join them automatically, sometimes without knowing what they are waiting for. But the queues are there for a reasonablenes, which brings us to the second point: the sheer number of sound entitlements. The timing of Toronto and its length means that it is an ideal platform on which to test whether a standing title has the legs to make it a challenger in the gives race.
Early marks suggest that it’s going to be another hard-fought engagement in the best actress category, with a fortune of meaty, female-driven tales. And the crowd-pleasing Battle of the Sexes , the latest from the Little Miss Sunshine aiming duo of Valerie Faris and Jonathan Dayton, is top of the list. Starring Emma Stone as tennis participate Billie Jean King, the movie tells the story of the much-publicised 1973 tennis pair between King and ex-champion, and self-proclaimed male-chauvinist swine, Bobby Riggs( Steve Carell, all tragicomic bluster and condescension ). But more than that it’s a love story, in which King, hopelessly smitten with hairdresser Marilyn( Andrea Riseborough ), was necessary to periods with her own sexuality. Stone is terrific, devoting King a steely sweetness and a disarming vulnerability. And although some of the overt antediluvian sexism from the commentators reaped audible gasp from the audience, the themes- equal compensate and equal opportunities for women, LGBT acceptance in sport- continue depressingly timely.
Another powerhouse female contribute comes from Jessica Chastain, playing the eponymous central character in Aaron Sorkin’s directorial introduction, Molly’s Game . This is pretty much the archetypal Sorkin project- a slick firework parade of showy exchange and jostling ideas and a prime reference with a brain that Chastain brandishes like a flick knife. Based on a real-life reputation, Molly is a former Olympic-standard skier altered hostess of unlicensed, high-stakes poker games, who procures herself at the center of an FBI investigation. While Sorkin indulges in a few too many self-congratulatory segues and flourishes, as long as Chastain is on screen- and she’s rarely off- the movie has a crackling energy and propulsive drive.