Specialty Coffee: TIFF.24

My TIFF diary.

I know, I know. The Specialty Coffee was supposed to be an extra letter but, alas, all I did this week was work and TIFF. So it’s not like I have something else to talk about. Even my husband said he barely saw me this week.

I will go over the email length limit so just click view entire message for the full article.

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Friday 13

14:00 What a glorious glorious day for me, what an ominous day for everyone else at work discussing Friday the 13th. It’s the start of TIFF, ain’t nobody got time for superstitions — and 13 is a rather lucky number for me, or maybe it’s all the witchy tendencies.

I spent half of the day at work checking the festival’s schedule — I also did some work-work (my boss will be reading this). I spent the day picking and choosing films so that they don’t interfere with my work schedule (see, dear boss, I’m a good cog in the machine).

I don’t think I have a way of tackling the festival — I generally go by vibes and if there is a focus on something I’m interested in, I make a weekend out of it (like I did when the focus was on Jean-Luc Godard).

15:00 The first film was chosen — I’m starting the festival with Familiar Touch (2024), d. Sarah Friedland, a debut film.

Familiar Touch is a coming of (old) age film. It follows an octogenarian woman’s transition to life in assisted living as she contends with her conflicting desires and self-narratives amidst her shifting age identity and memory.

19:30 Rushing out of the cinema to catch my bus (this will become a pattern of rushing to catch the bus or more often than not losing the last bus of the day), then spending the ride thinking about the film and almost crying on the bus.

Familiar Touch does something very special, in my humble opinion: it focuses on what’s left rather than what’s lost. One of my deepest fears is losing my memories because for so long I thought this is what made us who we are, but this film showed me that we are so much more. It’s a gentle film, with an intentional slowness so fitting for the narrative.

Saturday 14

10:00 Starting the day strong with a coffee tasting event by Nespresso, long-time sponsor of the festival. I get the email invite each year but my social anxiety gets the best of me. This year I challenged myself.

I was a ball of energy by the end of it — usually caffeine doesn’t affect me unless I drink a bit too much (three espressos and a coffee tonic cocktail) in less than two hours.

11:30 I left the Nespresso lounge and met with some friends on my way to another cafe — worry not, I had a slightly decaf cappuccino freddo, that went hand in hand with my next film, Our Wildest Days/Οι άγριες μέρες μας (2025), d. Vasilis Kekatos.

20-year-old Chloe leaves her dysfunctional family to follow a group of romantic outsiders and help the forgotten of society. During her travel through a shattered Greece, she will dream, fly, and fall in love but also she’ll realize that the true rebels are always alone.

Damn, this film made me miss the sea even more than I usually do this time of year — especially the trips to the sea as a teen (I used to live two hours away from the Black Sea).

The cinematography was splendid. And the acting too, especially of our protagonist. I felt this film through every pore of my skin. There’s out of this world dialogues and strong female friendships and connections. It’s the found family trope yet you still feel like an outsider, like you’re never going to fit in, which I strongly empathise with. Plus the music was top!

14:00 A brief intermezzo for the Pride march.

16:30 A quick stop home for a bit to eat: when in doubt, pită cu pateu always.

18:45 Ana came to pick me up for the open air screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975), d. Jim Sharman at Bonțida.

After getting a flat tire, two sweethearts discover the eerie mansion of a flamboyant scientist and houseful of wild characters. Through elaborate dance and rock songs, the mad scientist unveils his latest creation: a perfect, muscular man.

Ah, to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the castle, in Transylvania. Ah-mazing experience. Reminder for next time — bring rice.

While waiting for the night to come so the film could start (open-air), I read A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce and visited the exhibition inside the Banffy castle. Then when the film started, two ladies on the row behind me were chatting about anything under the sun but the film — what is it with cinema manners going down the drain these days? Fortunately they left a third into the film (good riddance). The Rocky Horror Picture Show is not for the faint of heart.

Obviously I loved it. It was not my first time watching it, but my friend Ana experienced it for the first time and she loved it too — one just can’t resist a good catchy song and the charming Dr. Frank-N-Furter, a sweet transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania.

Sunday 15

9:00 The initial plan was to go to a matinee — not an usual thing for cinemas, even though in my opinion, and the Atlantic’s, movies are best before noon — instead I opted for chilling with my cat and finishing James Joyce’s A Portrait. Happy Bloomsday Eve!

14:30 My cab left me far away from the cinema because traffic jam. I had to run there (another thing that will repeat throughout the week). I made it just in time for Sister Midnight (2024), d. Karan Kandhari.

In Mumbai, an arranged marriage spirals into darkness as the spineless husband watches his wife morph into a ruthless, feral force within their marital confines.

I am not big on comedies, but I was laughing uncontrollably (and so was the entire cinema). It’s a dark comedy — for a second I thought it would be a horror when I realised it’s in the category where horrors usually are, but also supernatural films. Sister Midnight leans toward the second category. It was colourful, it was fun, it was witty, even though it loses momentum in the second half of it.

17:30 No more films today, just a delicious cinnamon roll on my way to the Bloomsday picnic. Bogdana is organising casual picnics where we read James Joyce’s Ulysses.

Monday 16

9:00 The day of the Food Film event. Two years ago I participated to a dinner hosted by Chef Florin Dumitrescu after the film She Chef (2022) and I loved it! My expectations were to the Moon and beyond, especially since the film for this dinner was Mugaritz: No Bread, No Dessert/Mugaritz. Sin pan ni postre (2024), d. Paco Plaza. My guilty pleasure is to read the reviews for the restaurant Mugaritz because it’s either 1 star or 5 — there is no in-between.

Now with Mugaritz, the Valencian will document what happens behind closed doors in this restaurant and record the creation process, conceptualisation and commentary of the dishes, but not the making of the dishes themselves. Because the creation of Mugaritz is more to do with expressing ideas through food than with the cuisine itself, according to its creators.

The documentary was really good. The dishes they create and how they go about it, it was a treat in itself to witness that — it almost made me want to go and eat there (but still only if someone else would pay).

Mugaritz food is an experiment in itself, but it’s also about taking us back to that part of childhood we were discovering food for the first time, which is not something you get to experience too often as an adult.

20:30 When we got to the dinner, Chef Alexandru Dumitru talked exactly about this childhood experience. Even the description for the event promised “4–5 tasting menu-style dishes that play with taste perception, textures, and the senses. An evening for the curious and the bold.“

23:00 LIES! Oh, dear, I’ll get angry again.

I don’t think the chef watched the film or even researched the restaurant. Frankly, I don’t even think he read the description of his own event because the food we got was basic — good ingredients and somewhat tasty, but when I saw what we were served I got a bitter taste that I wished was from the food. No ambition to even try to do something close to Mugaritz. It would’ve been better to fail doing that than to serve us a basic dinner that had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING in common with the film — not even the ingredients (based on the documentary I was expecting honey or bones or even bloody green tea).

The service was atrocious too. We had to wait over 20 minutes to get some water — and only got it because we asked for it. Same for the wine. Honestly, I’m not sure I will ever go to another Food Film event after this one. I must highlight that two years ago the dinner was spectacular and each dish served followed the film closely — it did not replicate the dishes in the film, but you could tell the chef knew what the film was about!

Tuesday 17

22:00 I spent all day complaining about the dinner (and I’m still not over it) and took a day off from the festival to read Lavinia Braniște’s Interior zero because I have tickets to the film tomorrow. Spoiler alert: I ended up watching Korean dramas all evening and I have yet to finish the book.

Wednesday 18

15:00 I was busy working and did not get the chance to read more from the book. I’m still going to the film Internal Zero/Interior Zero (2025), d. Eugen Jebeleanu.

Cristina, a mid 30s secretary living in an alienating and hostile Bucharest, is trying to understand what it means being a bills-paying, ready-to-settle, social-ladder-climbing adult while still desperately wanting to be a good child for the single mom that raised her. She is also a character in a novel that a theatre director is turning into a feature. As the actors start setting into the story, their individual backgrounds, social circumstances and personal motivations begin to overlap with the fiction they were offered, making it their own, questioning it and shaping it. The result is what it’s supposed to be: a playful mesh of perceived reality and fabrication.

It was an interesting film and the 80 pages I managed to read from the novel were nicely adapted. There were some curious creative choices — some that I appreciated, but I think there was no need for that meta-layer, it only made it seem like the film was trying too hard to get the message across. Plus there were many scenes in the film that felt overly curated. Maybe it was intentional, who knows.

20:00 Today I’m in a group — Bogdana even said at one point that it feels like a school trip: ice-cream, film, McDonald’s, and another film. I usually do TIFF on my own, but I’m happy when I find films in common with my friends. We eat our salty fries and spicy McNuggets before rushing to the next film: Kontinental ’25 (2025), d. Radu Jude, the Berlinale winner of the Silver Bear for best screenplay.

Orsolya is a bailiff in Cluj, the main city in Transylvania. One day she has to evict a homeless man from a cellar, an action with tragic consequences that triggers a moral crisis which Orsolya must weather as best she can.

Truth be told I wasn’t sure I’d like it, although it was high on my watchlist. It really surprised me and it made me feel a lot of strange things, especially an invasion of privacy of sorts because it’s filmed in my city, on an iphone. Such a weird feeling.

Thursday 19

20:00 Only one film planned for today: Paul & Paulette Take a Bath (2024), d. Jethro Massey.

An unconventional romantic comedy about a young American photographer and a French girl with a taste for the macabre. Paul & Paulette’s chance encounter on a Parisian boulevard sparks an unusual friendship that grows around a dark game; reenacting scenes of notorious crimes from bygone eras at the sites they occurred. As their morbid road trip approaches the more recent past it becomes more uncomfortable, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy, but finding a surprising joy in the darker corners of humanity.

23:00 I missed my bus because the director was present and I wanted to stay for the Q&A. I also met some friends and spent some time reminiscing about Paris. The bus doesn’t matter anymore because I think I’ve just watched my favourite film at the festival.

It’s Paris, it’s manic pixie dream girl but it’s subverting the trope. It’s so, so French, and it plays with history and our perception of it. Teenage me would’ve devoured this film and made it part of her personality for ever — I mean I do like it because I find myself in it. But I might start eating lemons now.

Friday 20

17:00 The plan for today is two screenings back to back at two different cinemas. Can she do it, ladies and gents? Plus an early dinner and a few pages from In the Margins: On the Pleasures of Reading and Writing by Elena Ferrante.

First film of the day is a documentary: Caliu: Nothing Else, What More Could I Do?/Caliu: Nicidecum altceva, ce să fac altceva? (2025), d. Simona Constantin.

Unable to accept that his glory days are long gone, the “king of the violin” Caliu has to reinvent himself. Swinging between the challenges of the present and the memories of his international career, for Caliu only the music has remained the same.

20:15 The documentary was absolutely sublime, but I had to rush to my next event. On paper there was plenty of time because I did not know about the Q&A. Anyway, the documentary was masterfully crafted and I loved every second of it — Caliu is just too charismatic not to.

23:00 I missed the last bus. Again. I watched a marathon of Romanian short films. It was on my festival to do list. My favourite was probably Anchor (2024) by Vilmos Peter because I have a soft spot for stop motion.

Saturday 21

10:30 Starting the day with coffee with my friends and their doggos. As one should always start their weekend.

15:15 After working on this diary in another cafe (too much caffeine maybe?) and losing track of time, I’m hurrying towards my next film: The End (2024), d. Joshua Oppenheimer.

Twenty-five years after environmental collapse left the Earth uninhabitable, Mother, Father and Son are confined to their palatial bunker, where they struggle to maintain hope and a sense of normalcy by clinging to the rituals of daily life—until the arrival of a stranger, Girl, upends their happy routine. As tensions rise, their seemingly idyllic existence starts to crumble.

Generally I’m not a fan of long films, but the more I think about The End, the more I like it. I’m also fond of musicals, especially those that are rewriting the genre (think Dancer in the Dark). There is a lot to unpack in this film. It forces you to see yourself in a different light and to question your actions given certain circumstances — how would you act in their place? What would you do?

But I admit I wanted The End to end.

Sunday 22

11:00 Last day of TIFF with two films left on my schedule. Last Sunday I had a film at the same cinema and I was almost late, so now I’m here really early. Just in time for a coffee and to continue writing in my diary.

I had an interesting discussion with the cabbie about Cluj and the festival. I cannot imagine my life without films and books and art. I don’t think I can ever put into words how much these things mean to me. What is it about fiction that is so meaningful to some and so meaningless to others? Maybe a theme for another coffee letter.

A more important question right now is: can I squeeze in another film today, between the two I had already planned?

But first: Block Pass/La Pampa (2024), d. Antoine Chevrollier.

Willy spends his time with Jojo, his best friend, at La Pampa, the motocross course where Jojo trains for the French championship. One evening, Willy discovers Jojo’s secret. It’s time to leave childhood behind.

I feel like there is an entire sub-category of queer cinema that is pretty much just like this film. That being said, I still cried. On one hand I’m a bit tired of these stories and I want something else, on the other hand it really touched me with its tenderness and it filled me with rage at the unfairness of it all. It’s a bittersweet film that hurts.

13:45 But now I’m running towards the next film: Madly/FolleMente (2025), d. Paolo Genovese. The film that was not on the schedule, but because I kept seeing the trailer, and I rewatch Odio Il Natale every Christmas, which features the main actress, and since I had just enough time between the two films today to watch another one… it was a sign! I don’t make the rules!

How much do we really know about ourselves when we make a decision? What if there are multiple versions of our I within us, each with something to say?

A rom-com that was pretty much Inside Out, the adults edition. I have no words, it’s full of clichés, I loved it. I was laughing uncontrollably the entire time, but the entire cinema was too.

15:45 Last film of the festival for me happens to be the film that actually opened the festival: Christy (2025), d. Brendan Canty.

Seventeen-year-old Christy is at a crossroads. Thrown out of his suburban foster home, he has moved in temporarily with his estranged older brother, Shane, in Cork’s inner city. But Shane wants something better for Christy. After so many years apart, the brothers are forced to reconcile their turbulent past, whilst deciding what the future looks like. Sometimes, to move forward, you have to go back.

You know me, I love a good coming-of-age story, especially one about resilience (aren’t they all?) and able to create stories and characters with only a few lines — because they are so raw and real that you don’t need anything more to tell a story. It kept me on the edge of my seat, it gave me hope, it touched me. The music was a blast too!

This was probably my favourite TIFF edition — in spite of the awful dinner, and I think it’s because I went to so many films. My plan was at least 10 films, and I ended up watching 13 films and 6 shorts, without taking time off from work. May next year be even better!

Thank you for reading!