GREAT ABSENCE
Filmmaker Kei Chika-ura brings his sophomore feature, GREAT ABSENCE, to TIFF 2023. Gorgeously shot on 35mm, the story unfolds within flashbacks between estranged father and son and the present-day disappearance of his stepmother, Naomi. 
As dementia sets in, Yohji’s arc proves devastating to witness. The story also unravels the piles of notes strewn about Yohji’s home. Takashi must piece together this collection of garbled messages, love letters, and diary entries.
Tatsuya Fuji plays Yohji with a stern but soft heart. His mental decline brings out agitated frustration and a wild confidence in his storytelling. Understanding his background makes it all the more impactful. As Takashi, Mirai Moriyama brings a weariness and a curiosity that captivates. He puts the audience in his shoes. As the father-son relationship becomes more apparent, the more impressive the work. The chemistry between the two is something of cinematic dreams. It is as if they each play dual roles that are quietly award-worthy. 
Yutaka Yamazaki‘s cinematography is memorable. There is something special about letting the camera be static and allowing the performances to speak for themselves. The script surprises with every scene, which is quite a feat for a two-and-a-half-hour runtime. GREAT ABSENCE is a nuanced look at memory, perception, regret, and the endless complexities within relationships. This film will bring you to your knees.
The film consists of informal sit-down interviews, extensive personal writings, archival footage, and plenty of home videos of the generations of strong women in the family. We discover the hurt from Hiam’s past, the emotional baggage of leaving behind the turmoil of Palestine, but also the treasured connections of the women who shaped her. Hiam’s letters and poems serve as both insight and narration. They are intensely affecting. 
Hiam and her family love one another with their whole hearts. They have no filters when speaking to each other, and their words of affirmation are something to aspire to. Lina Soualem captures all of this in an elegant edit. The film is beautifully intimate. It’s a loving commentary on memory, identity, and honoring your past.
The overwhelming joy of hearing these kids laugh is infectious. SUMMER QAMP is an education, through and through. As a former theatre kid and current creative adult with two kids, I strive to understand how identity plays a part in overall confidence. I grew up with often crippling anxiety, a stranglehold of perfectionism, and feeling othered. It doesn’t feel good. My job is to protect my kids from the same overwhelming feelings of chaos any way I can.
SUMMER QAMP‘S brave kids allow the audience into their personal lives. They may not fully appreciate how fearless they are. Campers share their gender identity journey, the good, the bad, and the emotionally ugly. This film provides a conversation starter for understanding gender dysphoria from those experiencing it firsthand. It’s an aha of a film. 
Cinematographer Hazem Berrabah offers striking juxtaposing visuals of sheep grazing on open fields next to grey concrete structures. Half-built complexes with their innumerable exposed rebar present like monsters bearing sharp teeth and long claws. 
The defiance by detectives keeps your attention steady. No one wants to be told they cannot do their job. Performances from stars Fatma Oussaifi and Mohamed Houcine Grayaa are spellbinding. Their moody and grounded work feels personal and devastating. Oussaifi’s reaction to the overwhelming amount of misogyny hits hard. The writing is hard to shake, a compliment for writer-director Youssef Chebbi and co-writer François-Michel Allegrini.
Shazad Latif, as Kaz, has a quiet confidence that draws you in from the beginning. He possesses something special that makes the audience feel safe around him. Anyone would be lucky to have Kaz as a member of their family. Lily James plays Zoe with ambition, smarts, and girl-next-door sass. This character’s depth, flaws, and strengths equally embraced make the film thoroughly relatable. Dating is complicated, especially now. James embodies the modern-day woman and brings an elegance to Zoe that captures the audience immediately. Latif and James have a chemistry that feels earned.
The End of Sex tells the story of a married couple (Hampshire and Chernick) who are feeling the pressures of parenting and adulthood. After they send their young kids to camp for the first time, they embark on a series of comic sexual adventures to reinvigorate their relationship.
Lily Gao
The script nails the unfiltered complexities of adult relationships, particularly co-parenting and the ebb and flow of physical attraction. It centers on communication and the dangers of giving up on ourselves to mollify our partners. Relationships are rarely 50/50. THE END OF SEX goes there and sometimes falls off the edge in the best way possible. 
The quirky and overtly sexualized visuals on signs throughout the film become an over-the-top running joke. A brief but brilliant cameo from a comedy legend takes the script to another level. It is an unforgettable scene. THE END OF SEX celebrates kink rather than shaming. It permits viewers to explore fantasy while reflecting on intimacy. It’s a beginning of a conversation between partners, new and old, and a hell of a good time.
Wuthering Heights fans will recognize the inspiration in Frances O’Connor‘s screenplay. Sibling and familial dynamics loom large, as does jealousy. A myriad of topics appears in the script; grief, individualism, and life in the arts. Emily shirks gender norms and yet yearns for the approval of her Father. Betrayal, morality, lust, defiance, sibling rivalry, adoration, and spite play keen roles in EMILY. A particularly sharp monologue serves as a Freudian confessional. It is brilliant and heartbreaking.
Fionn Whitehead plays Branwell Brontë with the vibrancy of a firecracker. He is a delightful foil for Mackey. Their connection is undeniable. Oliver Jackson-Cohen is Mr. Weightman. Battling societal morality and love, Jackson-Cohen gives a stunning performance. His intuition and chemistry with Mackey are explosive.
An aspiring clown grappling with her gender identity combats a fascistic caped crusader, in writer-director Vera Drew’s uproariously subversive queer coming-of-age origin story.
Vera Drew‘s TIFF22 Midnight Madness feature, THE PEOPLE’S JOKER, is a visual explosion of mixed media deliciousness. Creatively autobiographical, watching the film is like taking ecstasy while simultaneously receiving an important message. Drew’s script overflows with biting satire about gender politics, comedy, and emotional healing. While we’re busy laughing and wondering how she got away with parodying DC, Disney, and other trademarks, she slyly exposes cyclical and deep-seated trauma.
I have to mention Nathan Faustyn by name. He plays Penguin with an unfiltered edge. Faustyn has incredible comic timing, and his chemistry with Vera is perfect. I want to see more of him in anything. Vera Drew speaks truth to power in a raw and undeniably hilarious manner. The writing is fearless, the performance is vulnerable, and her vision as a filmmaker is endlessly engrossing and quirky.
I adored the “bleeping” to avoid deadnaming. It was a quietly powerful device allowing Drew to address it head-on later in the film. Keep your ears sharp for voice cameos from Tim Heidecker and Bob Odenkirk. The original music is super catchy. Stick around through the credits for some extra treats. You’ll finally realize how expansive THE PEOPLE’S JOKER is. Each visual aspect comes from a different creative’s brilliant mind. This wild fandom mash-up is part confessional therapy session and another part cult coming-of-age indie.
How do you keep a nine-year-old from spilling the beans? Jean Costa brings the perfect amount of sass to the role of young Jean. His performance is so natural you might think he’s improvising each line. 
Maeve Jinkings plays Irene with slick confidence and a fearless attitude. She is never intimidated by Juan’s presence. On the contrary, she sees him as a nuisance and a necessary means to an end. Jinkings casual delivery under pressure makes Markowicz’s screenplay shine. It’s a real wow.
This endearing later-stage love story is as lovely as can be. Annie and Howard’s earnest chemistry come to life with the extraordinary performances by James Cosmo and Bríd Brennan. Beautifully paced histories of their former selves lend to its authenticity. So much of the script occurs in things unsaid.
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