I had to hang around the Dallas Buyers’ Club party until 1:15 am in order to snap Jared Leto, who is unquestionably the big breakout “everybody’s talkin'” guy of the Toronto Film Festival and an all-but-guaranteed Best Supporting Actor nominee. Indiewire‘s Anne Thompson was disagreeing with me (and virtually the rest of the world) about this prediction, and so we agreed to get into a back-and-forth about it. She’s dead wrong. Deadline‘s Pete Hammond said that Leto’s touching performance as Matthew McConaughey‘s cross-dressing drug-distribution partner is analagous to Chris Sarandon‘s performance as Leon in Dog Day Afternoon.
Dallas Buyers Club costar and likely Oscar contender Jared Leto last night at Cibo on King Street, where the after-party was held.
I told Leto that he’s the Comeback Kid (not that he had necessarily fallen behind but the last thing he’s done of any note was to gain 30 pounds to play the psychotic Mark David Chapman in Chapter 27), the guy, the surprise turnaround, the man, the hot dog, the actor who had parachuted into a very good film and made it something a bit more. Leto stood close by and held my arms and made dead-straight eye contact, cool and steady and cautiously pleased. But he said, “I just wanna make sure…I’m just not sure if it’s all real.” I told him it was except for what Anne Thompson is saying, and it’s “real” anyway because her viewpoint is part of the conversation as a pushback thing. The point is that the entire community up here feels as I do, and Thompson is apparently all alone. Or so it seems at this juncture. It’s all good.
The only thing I would say (and I’m just trying to be a friend) is that Leto shouldn’t wear his hair a la Moby Grape or Strawberry Alarm Clock or Blue Cheer. He should think of about GQ-ing up a bit for the coming campaign. He can go back to being Harry Hippie after the race. No biggie. You know what? I’m wrong. Screw it. Let the freak flag fly.
I’m not ignoring Matthew McConaughey’s performance, which is altogether fierce, brave and uncompromising. I just couldn’t find him at the party…sorry.
I had to stay in the leafy Toronto suburb of Rosedale last night (don’t ask) and the cab driver who took me up there was (no exaggeration) an absolute fucking moron with very little knowledge of Toronto, no GPS and incidentally had a Slumdog Millionaire accent. He drove a good mile past were I had to go. I was texting something and not paying attention but then I looked up and checked the iPhone GPS and said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa….where are you taking me, man?” He didn’t want to turn around but I forced him. We argued and argued. We finally found the place but I didn’t get to bed until almost 3 am. What an asshole. GPS was/is a totally foreign concept to the guy. “I am a good person,” he said at one point. “You should not speak to me like this.”
Before the Dallas Buyer’s Club event I attended a Metalhead party, a soothing IFC Films sit-down dinner and a large Fox Searchlight/12 Years A Slave gathering. Apologies to Sony Pictures Classics for not being able to make it up there in time.
(l.) Metalhead star Helga Porgilsdottir, (r.) director Ragnar Bragason.
The waitresses at Cibo, site of the
