Written by Tessa Squissato

For nearly fifty years, the festivities of TIFF have occupied the streets of Toronto for two weeks out of the month of September. Yet each year, it comes as an exciting surprise when highly-anticipated, star-studded films are set to premiere in our silly little town that happens to be a big city. I do not believe that I am alone in this view of Toronto, rather, I have gathered that many residents of this city share a sense of entertainment-inferiority. Canada’s film industries live in the shadow of their American counterparts as the film production hot spots are undeniably situated in Los Angeles and New York. Toronto and Vancouver are somewhat pitifully referred to as “Hollywood North”, and that moniker says it all— The United States are our metric and our film and television industry consistently struggles to hold a candle to theirs. 

The unrelenting Canadian entertainment scarcity makes us ravenous by the time TIFF rolls around. It is as if the American celebrities descend from the Hollywood Heavens (please excuse the lack of geographical accuracy in this analogy) to grace our lowly, celebrity starved city. Perhaps this depiction of Toronto is slightly cruel, and none of it is to say that we have no place in entertainment. The city and more broadly, the country, have produced incredible talent, who have risen to notable fame and seen great success— in America that is. Success from within Canada is rare and occurs on a much smaller scale than in the United States. So, you are a Canadian looking to make it in show biz, what do you do? Well, you scoot yourself down south and shove your Canadian identity in your pocket like a dirty little maple-stained secret (I’m looking at you, Lorne Michaels). However, despite it all, the Toronto International Film Festival has rightfully cemented its place in the “Big Five” film festivals along with Cannes, Berlin, Sundance, and Venice. For ten short days, TIFF gives us the highground (slightly more geographically accurate) and the international respect and press attention garnered by the festival has all the swanky New York and Hollywood hotshots crawling up to kiss our feet. 

Now I must confess, 2024 is the first year that I have ever truly attended TIFF. I have no real explanation as to why it took me two decades, but at least I got around to it eventually. I lurked and loitered around King nearly every day and I tried to live the full TIFF experience to make up for lost time. I was completely sucked into the stargazing of it all— myself and the other celebrity-craving cattle lining up for hours on end, with the hopes of getting corralled into the livestock pen known as the “Fan Zone”. In all seriousness, it was truly unreal and mesmerising to see the entire Saturday Night cast (including the llama, of course), tread upon the rails of the infamous 504 streetcar as they made their way onto the red carpet. For ten glorious days, I had the upper-hand over the businessmen I passed on my walk up Bay Street. Sure, they had their job security and financial stability, but I had an autograph from a freaky little guy named Willem DaFoe (And Dylan O’Brien! And Lamorne Morris!). 

Unfortunately, I only had the opportunity to attend one TIFF premiere. The ticket prices are often in line with those expected of a live performance rather than a regular movie screening. This makes the “Film” part of Toronto International Film Festival, rather unaffordable for many individuals. I see this not as a fault of the festival, but more so as an unfortunate consequence of the general lack of funding in the Canadian film and television industry. In fact, TIFF does significant work in the promotion of diverse artists and makes efforts towards general inclusivity at the festival. One such effort is the annual Trans Filmmakers Summit which provides independent trans artists with exposure and recognition and celebrates the films of “trans barrier breakers”. Which brings me back to my first, and only TIFF screening experience— Will and Harper.

I am a self-proclaimed SNL nut, and on top of that, I was raised in a house where Will Ferrell movies were a more common sick-day prescription than chicken soup. So naturally, I was quite excited to see Will and Harper. I had first heard about the film after its Sundance premiere, and when I saw that it was coming to TIFF, I felt that such an event justified splurging a little (well, the tickets were a birthday gift from my mother… So cheers mum, for the money, I suppose!). I must say, the film did not disappoint in the slightest, in fact, it exceeded my expectations. I had no doubt that it would be a funny documentary with a good dose of heart, but I was taken aback at just how effectively this was achieved. The combined comedic brilliance of Harper Steele and Will Ferrell was woven so seamlessly into the film’s most heartbreaking and moving moments. This elicited both cackles and sobs from both myself and the rest of the audience— many a nose was noisily blown in the theatre that night. The documentary often had the feel of a narrative film as the story was so artfully told through the beautiful cinematography, score, and the perfectly imperfect interactions between its subjects. I am extremely grateful that this film served as my TIFF christening… my TIFFening, if you will. And so, after my experience attending TIFF 2024, I can now call myself one of the Toronto International Film Festival’s loyal disciples.