Maybe I should start each of these columns with a simple, succinct "Dear Diary"...

While waiting in line to get into a sold-out screening of The Witman Boys, I recognized two fundamental principles that are going to apply to my week here:

1. I'm going to spend an extraordinary amount of time waiting around to get into public screenings, basically doing nothing except jotting down notes for disjointed pieces like this, and
   
2. To avoid this sort of unpleasantness on a regular basis, I'm going to concentrate on press screenings, which should be marginally less chaotic.

According to several sources (translated: "other people standing in line to see The Witman Boys"), this year, Toronto's 22nd, is by far the most crowded. The increase in film-goers reflects an international trend. Large festivals are growing too big too fast, small festivals are becoming overburdened, and local festivals are experiencing a boom. Movies have never been more popular, whether they're the kind of thing you see playing on 6 of twelve screens at your nearest state-of-the-art, stadium seating multiplex, or whether they're stuck on one screen at a run-down art house.

In this column, I only have one lonely film to write about. Of course, it's opening day, so the scarcity of titles is part of the reason. The other part has to do with airline inefficiency. Now, while I'd rather be late to a destination than crash en route, I can't figure out what could delay an airplane on one of the few days of the year when 90% of North America is experiencing great weather. Because of a 30 minute late arrival in Toronto, all of my carefully-laid plans were torpedoed. I had planned to write about Atom Egoyan's latest, The Sweet Hereafter, but I arrived 20 minutes too late to catch the press screening, and, with the opening night gala having been sold out long ago, there was no chance of getting in to see it. With this movie, at least it's a case of "better late than never." The Sweet Hereafter opens in Canada next month and in the United States in December.

Enough about the proverbial "one that got away." Now, onto my lone offering for this column:

The Witman Boys (Hungary, 1997, dir: Janos Szasz), which is about the increasingly bizarre experiments performed by two teenage brothers in 1914 Hungary as they strive to reach maturity in a fatherless household, treads in similar psychological territory to that explored by the likes of Heavenly Creatures - the unexpected violence that can spring from an abnormal domestic situation. However, while a number of similar films have taken great care to develop the characters , The Witman Boys uses its two protagonists as ciphers. They have no real identities - they're mouthpieces for writer/director Janos Szasz to express certain ideas about the corruption of innocence (and the corruption is pretty thorough, including sadism, masochism, cruelty to animals, sexual "perversion", and murder). The film is about the quest for the meaning of life, and how that search can easily be misdirected down some dark backalleys. The basic story is interesting enough, and there are some fascinating psychological aspects to The Witman Boys, but I found it very difficult to get into the movie. Despite impressive set design, innovative use of sound, and a relentless atmosphere, I never felt involved. I was watching the telling of a story, rather than experiencing it - not really my kind of thing. And, for those who would argue that this is a thriller, I would disagree. There's too much inevitability for there to be much tension. In general, The Witman Boys has some things to recommend it, but it's very much of a mixed bag.
Rating: out of

Hopefully, tomorrow I'll have a little more to discuss...

© 1997 James Berardinelli