ONE WEEK

Written and Directed by Michael McGowan
Starring Joshua Jackson, Liane Balaban and narrated by Campbell Scott


Narrator: What would you do if you knew you only had one day or one week to live?

The words above are spoken by the narrator against a black screen in Canadian filmmaker, Michael McGowan’s ONE WEEK, diving distinctly into cliché before an image has even appeared. The question has been asked countless times before – whether it be in face of a serious illness or as a hypothetical scenario at a mundane dinner party. It is supposed to be treated seriously in this context but every decision McGowan makes as both writer and director make the question as flat as the Canadian plains that play setting to the ensuing drama. ONE WEEK may earn its place in Canadian film history for bringing the road trip to the beautiful Canadian countryside but the real journey is the one McGowan takes from a laughable starting point to a contemptible final destination. Oh, and the whole thing is cheekily narrated by Campbell Scott. Joy.


Ben Tyler (British Columbia born, Joshua Jackson) has just been told that he is in stage four cancer and that he has a couple of years tops left as a maximum and a minimum that may not go past his doctor’s appointment. Oddly enough, this is where the laughs really get started. Let alone that I’m not entirely clear how he missed the first three stages of his cancer completely but check this subtle set up to the film’s road trip plot. Ben, upon hearing the news that he is going to die, runs out of the his doctor’s office only to almost be hit by an oncoming vehicle. How unbelievably ironic is that? He could go at any time due to his cancer and then he almost dies a whole other way. It was mindblowing. After having almost been hit by a car, Ben runs down a Toronto back alley until he can run from his inevitable death no more. Out of breath, he looks up and there stands an old man and his bike. That destiny, always stepping in to show you the path to your bliss. Needless to say, but I’ll say it anyway as the film itself seems to admire needlessness, he buys the bike.


Traveling by bike from Toronto through the plains of Saskatchewan, past Alberta’s Rocky Mountains and finishing on the shores of a beach in Vancouver is certainly scenic. It is also rarely seen on film in such grandeur and with such admiration on the part of the filmmaker. Still, one can overdo it. As a Canadian who loves this country, it is even a little much for me to take when the hero rolls up the rim on his Tim Horton’s coffee cup to reveal the direction he should travel in and settles into a motel along the way to smoke a joint with Gord Downie of the Tragically Hip. It’s highly doubtful to me that anyone who has never spent any significant amount of time in Canada would have any idea what my last sentence meant and that’s precisely the point. While the film may speak directly to Canadians, it says very little to any other audience about the country it is supposedly so proud of outside of a few clichés set to some very pretty pictures.


What it does say outside of trying to glorify Canadiana, and thus bringing the film from laughable formula to practically despicable, is said through Ben's soul search. His perspective is the film’s and it is distinctly male in its stubbornness and needs. Apparently, facing the possibility of death amounts to mostly needing to find someone who isn’t your girlfriend to have sex with. Given that his girlfriend (Liane Balaban, who, along with Jackson, provides ONE WEEK with its most endearing moments) is sitting at home the whole time Ben is out for his joy ride, it certainly does nothing to bring any sympathy to Ben. As he is dying, you’d think sympathy would be easy to inspire but instead, McGowan’s script goes the route of Sean Penn’s INTO THE WILD, honouring selfishness and calling it following one’s own true path in spite of society. If I were waiting for Ben at home, I would have probably written him off before he even reached the Rockies. Watching him go through it all though and neglect everything that made his pathetic life half livable, I wished a little near the end that he would just pull over to the side of the road and die already.

BLACK SHEEP @ THE 32ND ANNUAL TORONTO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL III

3:10 TO YUMA and INTO THE WILD


My third and final day at the Toronto International Film Festival was considerably less rushed than the previous two. In fact, I only had one film scheduled. During my manic search for tickets, I contacted a colleague at the National Post. Craig couldn’t help me with tickets but wanted to know if I would participate in the upcoming Popcorn Panel film discussion on 3:10 TO YUMA. As I love these opportunities, I said I would and found myself buying a ticket to a movie for a reasonable price and without any serious stress over whether it would be possible to get in or not for the first time all weekend. It was liberating. And so my final day in Toronto became all about casual shopping on Queen Street, a first-run movie with the regular film-going folk and a world premiere of Sean Penn’s INTO THE WILD.

Before I take a look at the films I saw that day, I want to talk a bit about what I found to be most inspiring about the entire festival. It is one thing to be surrounded by celebrities and premieres; this alone is extremely surreal. What was even more baffling to me was the number of volunteers in and around every venue at the festival and how these volunteers seemed appreciative of their place in the system. They were always courteous and smiling. They were apologetic if the wait was too long as if they cared that you might not be having the best time ever. It was near moving to see so many motivated, energized people who only got to keep their T-shirts and sneak into movies if there was any space left as payment for their time. Before each screening, several sponsors screened tags announcing their support. NBC/Universal was the official sponsor of the volunteer program and each time their tag played and announced their pride in supporting the volunteers, the crowd would erupt in genuine warmth and applause. Maybe that appreciation, plus the T-shirt, made it all worthwhile. Thank you volunteers; you were all helpful and lovely.


3:10 TO YUMA was one of those films that truly surprised me. You know the kind of movie I’m talking about; it’s that movie that you don’t really want to see but you somehow end up seeing it and go in with zero expectations of quality or what will unfold. Seeing a movie under those circumstances can either go one of two ways. Either your suspicions that it was not a movie for you are confirmed and you leave knowing you should trust your judgment next time or you leave impressed and thinking you should probably be a little more open-minded in the future. My experience was clearly the latter. 3:10 TO YUMA has an energy driving it forward that stems from its originality. This might seem a stretch to say given it is a remake of a 1957 film so I’ll elaborate. It is original much like AMERICAN BEAUTY breathed new life into the existing suburban exposition drama or the way THE DEPARTED showed us Scorcese awake for the first time in years. There is something new being brought to the table. Here, director James Mangold (WALK THE LINE) combines a quiet, introspective script (like modern Western, BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN) with a classic, straightforward story (like the Western classic, STAGECOACH) to create something visually lush that has both exhilarating action and gunfight as well as depth of character. Russell Crowe and Christian Bale are both excellent as men at different ends of the moral code. They learn from each other but have strong enough characters to begin with to not falter from their true nature without just cause. With 3:10 TO YUMA, Mangold is forcefully establishing himself as one of the best in the West.


Then there is this other Western director, whom I’m sure believes himself to be one of the best. When Sean Penn was brought on stage before the world premiere of his film interpretation of the life of Christopher McCandless, a university graduate who abandons his possessions, family and attachments in pursuit of life’s greater truths, the crowd was happy to receive him. People clapped, many cheered. However, the next audience response, for a surprise appearance by Eddie Vedder, who contributes four songs to the film, was so much more spontaneous and sincere that it made Penn’s seem almost automatic. Most of the cast, from William Hurt to Catherine Keener to Jena Malone to star, Emile Hirsch, proceeded to fill the stage. This was clearly an event. The moment quickly faded though as it became apparent within the film’s first scenes that INTO THE WILD was going to live up to its name. As McCandless rejects society and conformity, so does Penn with his style. While this does make for many beautiful shots, some entirely scenic, some involving dangerous wildlife in peaceful surroundings, the manner in which it is all strung together is ultimately pretentious. There is so much beauty but so little purpose. The numerous supporting roles come in and out throughout the film, much like the people would have on the adventures McCandless would have experienced. Only this isn’t that experience, this is a film. Consequently, many performances come across as overly dramatic and the adverse affect on the film itself is a disdain for the lead character carrying you everywhere. As McCandless, Hirsch is strong and mature but his character, as noble as he is for pursuing greater meanings in life, is not likable for the emotional pain he caused, especially when it is apparent that he is only running away from his own truths. It’s hard to respect someone who is running away while pretending to be a pioneer. Many people left before the screening had ended and when it finally did, the applause slowly but surely transitioned into a standing ovation. When I saw this, I bolted. My stomach turned seeing all these people paying lip service when a respectful applause would have been sufficient.


This was a bit of a sour note to end my festival experience on. This is the gamble though. You’re not going to like all the movies and we shouldn"t base the entire experience on its final moments. I hope to have the opportunity again next year to go, maybe for longer. For all its industry-centric catering, the Toronto International Film Festival still gave me the chance to see so many movies I was excited to see. I’ll just make sure to have a Visa gold card by this time next year so I can cut to the front of the line.