During every TIFF, a reception is held celebrating the works of the TIFF 2012 Grolsh Film Works Discovery Programme – the programme focused on new filmmakers. One of the first winners of this award was Steve McQueen for the film Hunger starring Michael Fassbender. Now that a bit of history was is out the way we can get to the article. Daniel Janvier, the most glorious of creatures – who wrote this introduction himself – was in attendance this year. This is an account of his experiences, written as they occurred, and edited only to avoid his incessant rambling. And his lack of grammatical understanding. Or that of syntax really. Wait…. he writes for us…?
I am severely out of play here. Legitimately out of element, fashion, touch, and language yet somehow still I manage to find my own way into the background of others’ photographs.
Upon entering the reception, I walk to the cash machine and take out enough money to get a decently sized buzz going – just enough that I can engage those ludicrously fashionable people of the industry while remembering this place is far too nice for me to get insanely drunk in the presence of strangers.
If I could, I’d like to give a bit on my current state of dress:
- Green(ish) button up shirt, untucked – A gift, nice for my wardrobe, possibly from Le Chateau
- Gray (somewhat) Tie – Sears I think – A decade old at least
- Converse All Star shoes, Grey w/matching laces – new but definitely have seen better days (these are easily, EEEEAAASSSILY stained shoes*)
- Pants, Black – Le Chateau. I need to be less predictable.
SCORE: Cynical, Irish Jerry Seinfeld
*I will redact this statement upon sponsorship
As I stand at the high top cruiser table, I am shocked and amazed by those around me, schmoozing as I believe it’s called. Or it might be that these people actually know each other… and are just sort of talking to each other… you know, politely… like normal people. Either way they succeed in destroying any sense of “swag” I might have been able to fake my way into the club with.
Where was I? OH! CASH!
The stains of my naÃ¯vetÃ© shine bright when I order my drink:
Me: Can I have an Old Fashioned?
Bartender: I think it’s only beer and wine.
Me: Okay… could I just get a Grolsch?
She hands me the beer. She then stares at me, when I try to pay her, as though I have achieved the power of metamorphosis and where once stood Daniel, handsomely decrepit sign of manly androgyny with a kind-of beard now stands a leprotic hound, somehow scalene and serpentine with disease, oozing the sense of regret and regained unrequested prepubescence. Essentially she gave me a weird look.
Much time passes
Handsomest Man Alive: Um…. how much is it?
Confused Bartender: Uh, it’s open bar.
Much much time passes
The Re-virgin-ed I: Cooooool.
It was during this revelation that the clouds parted and a sea of knowledge rained non sequiturs upon me. I have reached a decision and I have reached it wisely. There is no alternative. I am going to remorselessly, without further provaction, get highly intoxicated.
End of Part One….