The Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), the behemoth that often launches films on their long, ponderous path to Oscar glory, has come and gone. I hosted two parties during the festival with the goal of highlighting some of our local flora and fauna, as opposed to the exotic species imported from around the globe that are ubiquitous in Toronto during—and only during—these long ten days in September. I didn’t spot any international celebrities at the party I threw at The Bovine Sex Club (although two nights later at the Locarno Film Festival party in the same location, I, and apparently the New York Post’s Page Six, spotted Bill Murray). The celebs were probably off somewhere being herded through pens like bulls to slaughter. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea. After all, Alfred Hitchcock once proclaimed that actors should be treated like cattle.
I did drop into a few celebrity bashes, including the party held for my old friend Harmony Korine, who was at the festival with his new fun perverted cinematic opus, Spring Breakers, starring a gloriously pimped-out James Franco, with whom I glamorously texted throughout his brief stay here but never got to see face to face. Oh well. Real time is so passé. Harmony introduced me to Brett Ratner, announcing to the room in general that two legends were meeting. Well, he was half-right.
So here are my photos from my two festival parties: the first, LaBruceophilia, in celebration and anticipation of the upcoming shoot for my new movie, Gerontophilia, and Boom!, the after party at Cold Tea for prodigious Toronto-bred rocker Peaches, whose hot new concert film, Peaches Does Herself, had its world premier at TIFF. Enjoy—or hate on—whichever you prefer.
Next Week: My mini-reviews of the films I saw at TIFF.
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