I have seen the future of TIFF and its name is Bruce Springsteen.
Obviously I am not MOAM. I’m no Mother, but make no mistake: I am a Maven. It’s me, the special guest blogger â€“ call me Mensch of all Mavens if you like.
The arrival of Bruuuuuce put the TIFF in a tizzy last night at the RTH. Intrepid photographers banned from the green room! Hallways cleared of fans and hangers-out & on. Michelle, the security guard, muttering expletives under her breath.
My Woman on the Inside, in grand Auntie Mame mode, got me and my sister (life-long Bruce fans, ok, fanatics) behind the velvet ropes and into the bowels of the Roy Thompson Hall. We werenâ€™t expecting much â€“ a glimpse, a handshake, a photo op. Denied. Such lock-down measures seemed fit for the President, but the Boss?
We did get ushered into front row seats, one row ahead of CTVâ€™s Andria Case (Hey, MOAM name-drops. Iâ€™m just following the lead), and right next to a franco-reporter with way too much cologne on.
The screen showed us Bruce & Patti arriving on the red carpet. Maybe thatâ€™s why there were no photogs allowed in the green room. Patti does not look good in high def. (My sister was especially thrilled that she looks better than Bruceâ€™s wife).
Though Iâ€™ve seen The Boss live in concert many times, Iâ€™d never been front row close. There he was: the rock star, the icon, the poet, and the SHORTY. Being of diminutive stature myself, I was thrilled. Weâ€™re not talking Prince pint-size, but weâ€™re def talking â€œcanâ€™t reach the top shelf without a step ladderâ€.
The film, THE PROMISE: THE MAKING OF DARKNESS ON THE EDGE OF TOWN was an amazing insight into the creative process. Not only singular to Bruce, but to the creative process in general. Itâ€™s hard to make art about making art (Sunday in the Park with Bruce?), but the movie succeeds.
Interesting: Bruce rarely looks at the camera in the modern-day interview sections. Maybe heâ€™s camera-shy? Maybe itâ€™s not just in the green room.