The 8 best movies (and one TV show) we saw at the Toronto International Film Festival
The 2024 Toronto International Film Festival doesn't officially end until Sunday, but after a week's worth of screenings, video interviews, portrait shoots, newsletters and friendly debate in the L.A. Times condo, a number of favorites emerged. We didn't — couldn't — see everything, but of the titles we did see, these were the eight movies and one TV series that stuck with us most — and we recommend you catch them when you can.
'The Brutalist'
If any single film could be considered the winner of the last few weeks on the festival circuit, it might well be Brady Corbet’s “The Brutalist,” which picked up the directing prize at Venice and was bought by distributor A24. Adrien Brody fully embodies László Toth, a Hungarian architect who makes his way to America after World War II and falls under the sway of a wealthy businessman (Guy Pearce) who commissions him to undertake a massive project. While much will be made of the film’s 3?-hour running time, which includes an overture and intermission, it never strains under its own weight. The movie is as it should be, as the sense of scale, monumentality and sheer ambition in “The Brutalist” are largely the point. Majestic and sweeping, the picture is driven by the desire to create a great and galvanizing work about the personal cost of such a vision. — Mark Olsen
'Eden'
Likely no one could have expected that Ron Howard’s “Eden” would be as straight-up demented as what was revealed in a prime spot at the festival, a based-in-reality “Survivor”-esque tale of a group of Europeans attempting to settle on an uninhabited island in the Galapagos in the 1930s. The central cast of Jude Law, Vanessa Kirby, Ana de Armas, Daniel Bruhl and Sydney Sweeney all chew scenery with wicked abandon, essentially clear-cutting their way across the jungle as they scheme and manipulate each other for control of their limited resources. Howard has typically seemed a kindhearted humanist, so to see him make something with such nihilistic pessimism about the very core of human nature — that we’re all terrible and capable of truly wicked things — is perhaps the biggest twist of all. — M.O.
Read more: Cate Blanchett, Jennifer Coolidge, Pharrell Williams and more visit L.A. Times Studio at TIFF
'The Fire Inside'
In her feature directorial debut, “The Fire Inside,” acclaimed cinematographer Rachel Morrison tells the story of Claressa Shields, a boxer from Flint, Mich., who won a gold medal at the 2012 London Olympics when she was just 17 and is now one of the most dominant athletes in the sport. The story begins in 2006 when Claressa (Ryan Destiny) is a precocious tween who persuades local boxing coach Jason Crutchfield (Brian Tyree Henry) to let her train at his gym, even though she is a girl. The sport is a refuge for Claressa, who has a chaotic family life and often has to scrounge for food, and she bonds closely with her coach. Within a few years, Claressa — nicknamed T. Rex because of her short arms — is vying for a slot at the Summer Games. But unlike a conventional sports biopic, this big-hearted film doesn’t end with the protagonist triumphing over adversity. Instead, “The Fire Inside” spends about about half its running time following Claressa and Jason in the brutal comedown following the Olympics, as they struggle to translate that victory into a sustainable income. Written by Barry Jenkins and based on the 2015 documentary “T-Rex,” “The Fire Inside” takes an unusually clear-eyed look at the battles faced by female athletes — especially for someone like Claressa, a young woman of color competing in a sport not seen as “feminine” enough to be commercial. Destiny deftly captures Claressa’s headstrong spirit (she likes to tell reporters that she enjoys beating people up). Henry brings his usual warmth and humanity to a role that could easily have been another sports-movie cliche — the tough-loving coach — but is already generating talk of a second Oscar nomination to follow up his 2023 supporting actor nod for "Causeway." — Blake
'Hard Truths'
Mike Leigh’s bracing new film, his first set in contemporary Britain in more than a decade, reunites the British auteur with actor Marianne Jean-Baptiste for the first time since “Secrets & Lies” (1996) — and proves that both artists’ powers remain undimmed. As Pansy, a woman haunted by the death of her mother, dissatisfied in her marriage and fretful over her adult son, Jean-Baptiste exhibits both extraordinary physical intensity — delivering long, excoriating diatribes against the “cheerful, grinning people” in her midst — and deft comic timing — allowing her acidly funny insults to lift the film’s spirits, if not Pansy’s own. Courting and sparking against her timorous husband, Curtley (David Webber), and her ebullient sister, Chantelle (Michele Austin), Pansy emerges as one of the most indelible creations of Leigh’s career. Her primal screams from inside the life she’s built don’t communicate the hard truths of the title so much as represent them: Swallow your tongue too long and you’re liable to choke on the dissatisfaction. — Matt Brennan
'I'm Still Here'
"Central Station" and "Motorcycle Diaries" filmmaker Walter Salles' latest begins as a family drama set against the backdrop of a military dictatorship. For a spell, former Brazilian congressman Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello), wife Eunice (Fernanda Torres) and their five children revel in the quotidian joys and minor hardships of upper-middle-class life in 1970s Rio de Janeiro: new dogs and nonconformist boyfriends, Mom's soufflé and Dad's love of samba. When Rubens is disappeared by the government, however, it confirms the worst fears of the Paiva family's educated, affluent social set, and it soon turns into the central struggle of Eunice's life. Based on son Marcelo's 1983 memoir, the film, marked by stellar performances from Mello, Torres and the rest of the cast, as well as Salles' keen eye for workaday beauty, becomes a moving chronicle of the 25-year effort to hold the state accountable for Rubens' killing — and a frightening parable of creeping authoritarianism that transcends national borders. Tyranny may start, in "I'm Still Here," as the whir of a single helicopter, but without vigilance it can seep through your doors and windows until you are surrounded. And then it carries you away. — Brennan
'The Last Showgirl'
In “The Last Showgirl,” Pamela Anderson delivers the performance of her career as Shelly, a middle-age dancer at a sudden crossroads when her Las Vegas show, "Le Razzle Dazzle," closes after a 30-year run. Estranged from her daughter and with few other prospects for work, Shelly is forced to consider the painful possibility that the sacrifices she has made for what she considers art may not have been worth it. Directed by Gia Coppola and written by Kate Gersten, the film is a funny, atmospheric look at aging, motherhood and the allure of the spotlight. It is an ideal and deeply personal role for Anderson, who radiates empathy and vulnerability at every turn, marking the culmination of a comeback that began with her bestselling memoir and Netflix documentary. (As Anderson told The Times in Toronto, “I don’t think I could have played this role if I didn’t have the experiences I had to draw from.") But the rest of the cast, especially Dave Bautista’s tender performance as stage manager Eddie and Jamie Lee Curtis as Annette, an aging cocktail waitress, is also superb. Coppola has an eye for Vegas’ seedy glamour, particularly in the frenetic sequences depicting the showgirls backstage during costume changes, where we see the panic that fuels the razzle-dazzle. — Blake
'The Listeners'
In suburban Britain, the career and family of a well-liked schoolteacher threaten to unravel when she strikes up an inappropriate relationship with one of her students. You may think you've seen that one before — in the 2006 psychological thriller "Notes on a Scandal," for one — but this superb BBC series, adapted by Jordan Tannahill from his 2021 novel and directed by Janicza Bravo ("Zola"), defies expectation. For what Claire Kutty (Rebecca Hall) and Kyle Francis (Ollie West) are doing during their after-school meetings is, simply, attempting to find the source of the Hum — a low pulse, reminiscent of wind turbines, electric wires and kitchen appliances, that only they can hear. Or so they think, until they come across a support group of "listeners" who may hold the key to understanding their affliction, if it's to be seen an an affliction at all. Anchored by its intricate sound design, which expertly blends score, diegetic sound and the thoughtful use of aural perspective, the series rejects potboiler rhythms in favor of a foreboding psychological chill. "Sometimes I get lost in it, like nothing else exists," Kyle tells Claire of the Hum, and if a smart network picks up "The Listeners" for Stateside distribution, you will too. — Brennan
Read more: Commentary: Please stop trying to mansplain 'Nightbitch'
'Nightbitch'
Going into Toronto, speculation about Marielle Heller’s “Nightbitch” had reached a fever pitch. Would the film, adapted from Rachel Yoder’s novel of the same name, be the vehicle to win Amy Adams an Oscar after six fruitless nominations? Or would it be a misguided, tonally jarring hot mess with a title to inspire a thousand dog puns? “Nightbitch” works largely thanks to Adams’ nimble, fearless performance as an artist-turned-stay-at-home mom who puts her once-promising career on hold to care for her cute but rambunctious toddler. (Her character, never named, is listed in the credits as “Mother.”) Her well-meaning but clueless husband, played by Scoot McNair, frequently travels for work, leaving her at home to fend for herself and whip up countless pots of macaroni and cheese. Exhausted and resentful, she begins to notice bizarre physical changes — a heightened sense of smell, a patch of fur on her back. “Nightbitch” is a surreal, insightful film about the joys and anguish of motherhood and the sometimes disturbing ways that becoming a parent can transform women’s minds, bodies, emotional lives and entire sense of self. It won’t be for everyone, but neither is being a parent. — Blake
'The Order'
After a series of movies about the darker corners of Australian history, filmmaker Justin Kurzel turns his unblinking, discomforting sensibility toward America with “The Order,” following a small cadre of neo-Nazis in the Pacific Northwest in the early ’80s who were responsible for a string of bank robberies and the murder of Denver talk-radio host Alan Berg. The film is pushed along by two ferocious performances, with Nicholas Hoult as the group’s darkly charismatic leader and Jude Law as the troubled FBI agent determined to stop him, gaining momentum as they are pulled closer and closer to one another. While very much a sharply compelling crime drama with electrifying action sequences, the film is also unafraid to consider how and why people are swayed to such despicable causes and draws a clear line to why these ideologies are still with us today. — Olsen
This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.