I can't lie. I was bummed -- if not 100 percent totally shocked -- to hear the news about Steve Irwin. Yeah, there was the thing with his infant son and the crocodile a few years ago. And he was definitely putting himself in danger every time he went toe-to-toe with whatever latest vicious creature he decided to feature in any of his Animal Planet specials (always with commentary that cheerfully belied the danger at hand: "Here's the spitting cobra -- deadly accurate! What a little beauty!") When he came to San Francisco in 2002 to promote his feature film, Crocodile Hunter: Collision Course, I had to take advantage of the opportunity to talk to him, just to see if he was actually that hyper and energetic and hopped up on animals all the time.

wow -- a lot of death on the blog this week. On Saturday, one of my favorite people in the world passed on from AIDS complications (yep, it still happens -- drugs aren't magic, people). Willi Ninja, voguer extraodinaire, mother of the House of Ninja, superfamous spokesperson for utterly fabulous butch queen love, was FIERCENESS itself. We'll miss you Willie.

THE QUEEN OF BUTCH FEMME REALNESS

Check out this awesome YouTube tribute.

I met Willi when I was but a wee thing in NYC in the late 80s. I was at the height of my first club kid phase, doing the door with the IT TWINS at the World and Save the Robots, a mere teen hanger-on to all my glittery heroes, when he crossed my path -- and crossed and crossed it! Girl, he was a human pretzel, a cyclonic blackalicious blur. All those flailing limbs! This was before Paris is Burning or Vogue came out (it was right around the time of Malcome McLaren's awesome "Deep in Vogue" dancefloor shaker), and he wasn't all internationally famous yet -- but he was ROYALTY, you could smell it. He briefly commented nicely on my gold sequined short-shorts and blue afro (he thankfully said nothing about my giant Burger King crown) and moved through the party like a Swiss Army Knife thru butter. She moved thru the FAIR. I was star strucked.

He was only 45, but what a world of inspiration he leaves behind. The kids never die. FIERCE N HEVEN.

Attention, film geeks: the Guardian's Toronto International Film Festival desk is up and running and frantically trying to patchwork together a schedule that crams in as many movies as possible without incurring some kind of mental break with reality as a result.

It's a delicate balance, really, and one that brings forth a feeling of excitement, panic, and jet-lagged punchiness that I've never really felt at any other time in my life. Ideally, one figures out a way to see everything worth seeing (note: a personal judgement call all the way) while still leaving room for spontaneity, last-minute interviews, random networking, and bothersome other crap like meals, caffeine, and sleep. This is my second year at the fest, which happens to be the same exact age as me (31), and I'd be lying if I said I had the whole crazy shebang figured out.

Something wicked this way comes: Gang-du (Song Kang-ho) in The Host. Copyright Magnolia Pictures.

Day two. Why can't every morning for the rest of my life begin with a Johnnie To movie?

Author and critic B. Ruby Rich (who programmed TIFF's 2002 runaway hit and award winner Whale Rider) checks in with her first report from the fest:

It's raining in Toronto ... and New York City, setting for the weep-tastic Bollywood epic Never Say Goodbye, where no emotionally-charged moment passes without soaking at least one major character (and random passers-by) to the bone.

Just interviewed Bong Joon-ho, director of The Host, which even random journalists I've never met are declaring "the best thing here" in crowded elevators. More on the interview later, but after the jump, an example of something I've been seeing all over fest turf today...

Image of Yoko Ono and John Lennon, as seen in The U.S. vs. John Lennon, courtesy AP/WIDE WORLD PHOTOS.

Believe the hype: Borat rules. It has a release date of November 3. I suggest you mark it on your calendar ... you will not be sorry. (Unless highly offensive, off-color humor -- and the sight of two hairy, naked men vigorously wrestling their way across a banquet hall filled with mortgage brokers -- ain't your cup of tea. Then you can skip it. Everyone else will bust a gut without you.)

Day five.

Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz in Darren Aronofsky's The Fountain. Photo courtesy Warner Bros. Pictures.

Michelle Devereaux is in Toronto. Here's her first report:

“I’m hearing Oscar buzz!” a giddy audience member shouted after the second public TIFF screening of For Your Consideration Tuesday afternoon, kicking off a 10-minute-plus Q&A with the cast and director Christopher Guest. She was being ironic — the film-within-the-film is a little indie that receives tons of Oscar speculation — but who knows? She might not be too far off base.

While briefly in San Francisco during an intense media tour promoting his much-buzzed doc This Film is Not Yet Rated, filmmaker Kirby Dick sat down with Jonathan L. Knapp to discuss the process of challenging a powerful institution, John Waters, chasing Jack Valenti, and media conglomeration.

Guardian: Thank you for taking time to meet with me; you seem to be doing an insane amount of press for this movie.
Kirby Dick: Actually, I find that the press outside of New York and LA do far more interesting interviews, so I’m happy to be here.

Still from D.O.A.P. (aka Death of a President).

Celebrity sightings? Michelle Devereaux just spotted God at this year's Toronto International Film Festival:

Toronto, Wednesday, 12:09am: I have just left the Ryerson Theatre, where I fear I have contracted a serious case of Viggomania — a condition characterized by fever, light-headedness, and general idiocy when Ultimate Man Viggo Mortensen is in the vicinity. And he happens to be in town for the premiere of Alatriste, a swashbuckling Spanish-language adventure epic he stars in as titular anti-hero Diego Alatriste, a 17th-century Spanish mercenary.

Michelle Devereaux reports.

Before the world premiere screening of Seraphim Falls at the Elgin Theatre Wednesday night, Pierce Brosnan acted gruff and uncomfortable onstage, but Liam Neeson worked the crowd like a pro (even throwing out the old nugget “It’s all about you guys!”). He had some choice insights into the movie’s themes too, insisting that the western by first-time director David Von Acken -- a cat-and-mouse tale featuring Neeson hunting Brosnan through snow and sand -- is about forgiveness.
“The heart of this film is about forgiveness,” he reiterated. “Remember that.” Neeson thanked the production company behind Falls, as well as the company’s head, to general enthusiastic laughter from the adoring audience. The company? Icon. Its head? Why, that would be Mr. Mel Gibson. Maybe Gibson can get Neeson to make the same speech at the Apocalypto premiere in a couple of months. He’s probably going to need an icebreaker.

B. Ruby Rich reflects on some of her favorite TIFF '06 moments.

* The scene: the world premiere of Dixie Chicks: Shut Up And Sing. Filmmakers Barbara Kopple and Cecilia Peck (daughter of Gregory) were in the audience, as were the Dixie Chicks themselves. The documentary tells the story of the past three years as the Chicks dealt with protests, concert cancellations, radio blackouts, and a death threat resulting from Natalie Maines' remark: "We're ashamed the president of the United States is from Texas." When a scene played showing the decision to re-route the tour to Canada after Toronto was the only city to sell out immediately, the whole theatre erupted in wild hooray-for-us applause.

* Christine Vachon at TheatreBooks, one of Toronto's great bookstores, signing copies of her new memoir about her experiences in the indie-film trade, A Killer Life Of course I bought one. She's only in town for one night: she's in the middle of shooting Todd Haynes' new opus on Bob Dylan. Cate Blanchett just finished her section, so she got a break to come to Toronto for the premiere of Infamous. Vachon tells me she'll be in San Francisco, at the Commonwealth Club, at the end of the month.

* Camila Guzman Urzua's screening of The Sugar Curtain, her documentary on growing up in Cuba during the golden age of socialism. One audience member, an exiled Uruguayan, objected to her clear-eyed view of the terrible failures of the Revolution in the years since her childhood era. "Why don't you talk about the embargo?" he wanted to know. Yeah, like every other Cuban film that's ever been made. Old patterns die hard.

* Crowds jammed the sidewalk outside the Four Seasons, driven into a frenzy by a bumper crop of celebrities this year. My standards are different: Costa-Gavras at the Unifrance party was my idea of stardom. Talking to SFIFF's Linda Blackaby and the NY Film Festival's Marian Masone, he tried to explain the arrival of so many French films dealing with Algeria. "One million people left Algeria for France after the end of the war," he said. "There are many stories, and different points of view. They should have been made ten years ago."

* The moment the rain starts. Every year, mid-festival, the hot waning days of summer stop abruptly for a rainstorm. When the rain ends, the thermometer drops and fall is here. The mid-point of the festival is the change of seasons, and today I saw my first leaves turn red. Shadows of mortality. There's nothing sadder than the end of a film festival. And at this writing, it's only four days away.

DVD available from Choices Video.

My introduction to director William Gazecki came with his 1997 debut, the Oscar-nominated doc Waco: The Rules of Engagement. I distinctly remember sitting alone at the Red Vic, my jaw on the floor, watching the damning footage he'd unearthed solve the riddle of who fired first ('twas our government, not the Branch Davidians). In 2002, he released Crop Circles: Quest for Truth, which happened to come out the same year as Signs, marking some kind of crop-circle zeitgeist that may or may not have been informed by occupants of inteplanetary craft. (The doc -- which was not nearly as well-received as Waco -- doesn't prove it either way, alas).

Between this pair of films, in 2000, Gazecki released Reckless Indifference, newly available on DVD. The doc recounts the 1995 crime that's been held as an example of what's wrong with California's felony murder rule. (Read CBS News' take on the case here.) Picture a Larry Clark-directed episode of American Justice, and you'll get a feel for the cast of very real characters: a teenage drug dealer who operated out of a backyard "fort;" a gaggle of middle-class white kids whose suburban boredom inspired them to drink and commit mean-spirited pranks; and parents who took an interest only when it was far too late.

From the Cartoon Network's Adult Swim show, Robot Chicken. So ridiculously stupidly funny.

Casual readers of this blog might deduce that all I ever do is watch movies. Well, that's mostly true. But I do a few other things on occasion. Like, listen to music. And inevitably, read two or more books at a time. Here's what-all's dividing my literary attentions four ways at the moment:

Tory in Jesus Camp. Copyright Magnolia Pictures.

Fascinated disgust and aghast amusement are two feelings I don't experience often enough. Jesus Camp elicits both in spades. This doc by Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady (The Boys of Baraka) travels into the darkest heart of America's evangelical Christian movement: a North Dakota summer camp that whips born-again children — most already homeschooled into such beliefs as the nonexistence of evolution and global warming — into religious frenzies. Tongues are spoken. Pint-size preachers take the stage. Pentecostal minister Becky Fischer warns her charges of the evils of Harry Potter: "warlocks are enemies of God!" (Later, there's a great moment when one little rebel admits he's watched all the Potter films on the sly; the wide-eyed looks on the other kids' faces are priceless.)

Children's minister Becky Fischer. Copyright Magnolia Pictures.

Though Air America radio host Mike Papantonio (a Christian but not a fundamentalist) steps in from time to time as a de facto voice of reason, Jesus Camp operates without narration or slanted editing. It doesn't need it. As is, the doc offers a clear-eyed view of a religion that might seem on the fringes but in fact claims huge, ever-growing numbers. The film also places emphasis on the palpable evangelical presence in American politics — with a chilling look toward the future, when this brainwashed-from-birth generation will eagerly join the right-wing voting bloc.

I spoke with co-director Heidi Ewing hours before Jesus Camp’s sold-out Times Square premiere Sept 22 (the film opens Sept 29 in San Francsico). She was understandably a tad nervous: “I’ve got some butterflies that I didn’t think I’d have, but I think that’s normal.”

I interviewed writer-director-editor-supporting actor Andrew Bujalski last year, prior to Funny Ha Ha’s August 2005 opening at the Red Vic. He’d actually completed his debut film in 2002; during its meandering journey into theaters (with stops at over ten fests, including the San Francisco Independent Film Festival), he was able to shoot his follow-up, Mutual Appreciation.

Justin Rice in Mutual Appreciation.

Though it’s shot in black and white, and features a boy-musician rather than a girl-office temp slouching towards adulthood, Mutual Appreciation (read Max Goldberg’s Guardian review here) resembles Funny Ha Ha in its deceptively low-fi storytelling. It’s also a leap forward for Bujalski, whose editing choices have grown more adventurous, while his characters are even more awkwardly real-life, if that’s even possible.

On the eve of Mutual Appreciation’s Bay Area premiere, I spoke with the Boston-based Bujalski again. This time I steered away from topics that had shaped our previous chat, including the inevitable, justifiable comparisons to other naturalistic filmmakers (in other words, not once was the name “Cassavetes” mentioned; if you’re curious, read my 2005 interview here).

No I'm not taking about the late Crocodile Hunter, I'm talking about Jim Fetterley of the duo Animal Charm. Along with Rich Bott (and occasionally some other friends), Fetterley has been making confounding, perplexing, vexing, hexing, and comically scathing short videos for almost a decade. On the eve of the SF release party for the Animal Charm DVD Golden Digest -- and in conjunction with this week's cover story -- I recently talked with Mr. Fetterley about what happens when animals and boardrooms attack. Check out Golden Digest. You'll never see family basketball games or Meatballs the same way again.

Guardian: What other people working with video material do you find inspiring?
Jim Fetterley: There’s so much -- recently the saturation level is at a point where the connections between receivers to producers to producers to receivers form one big loop. There’s a general tendency right now to get excited about things that are unknown or anonymous.
Everyone is looking for something that will up the ante, whether it’s left field or straight from the entertainment cultural industry.
I’d have to cite friends. Most closely, TV Sheriff, our friend Davy Force. A year ago in April we finally got to meet in person a collective of people from Paper Rad, and Cory Arcangel – people who are trading and exchanging ideas.
Most recently, I don’t even know the names of some of the things being presented online. I don’t know if you’ve seen the Blazin Hazin tapes -- a friend introduced us to them at an Iowa conference in 2002 or 2003. We contacted him and he sent us nine more videos. Notoriety or making more money isn’t as interesting [to me] as exploring some of the other possibilities that can come from this type of practice.

Dick Fucking Cheney is uncensored and exceptionally ornery in Bryan Boyce's short video America's Biggest Dick, which someone other than Boyce posted to YouTube, where it's gotten 18,000 views and counting. The popularity of the clip isn't surprising -- it's fucking great. In putting together this week's cover story about TV tweak tactics, I recently spoke with Boyce -- who will be showing new work at Other Cinema soon -- about many of his videos. We also talked about the Wiener Dog National Championships.

Guardian: Can you tell me a bit about when you first began working with TV footage?
Bryan Boyce: Back when I was in college the way I would learn a new editing system was with televangelists – Robert Tilton in particular. He just lends himself to all the extremes of the system, such as “How do you make something play backward?”.