I had the chance to give the opening remarks for TIFF’s Young Creators Co-Lab Day at the TIFF Lightbox.

I had the honour of writing the scripts for Yorkville University's latest brand awareness campaign, “When We Grow Up.”

A few weeks back I was invited by iNOVA Media Lab (NOVA University Lisbon) to give a talk for the University’s new Masterclass series called “Algorithms, Audiovisual, and Cinema.”

I have been invited by iNOVA Media Lab (NOVA University Lisbon) to give a talk about my research on algorithms, taste-making, and Netflix.

Exciting news! My research article titled ‘Algorithms and taste-making: Exposing the Netflix Recommender System's operational logics’ has just been published in Convergence: The International Journal of Research into New Media Technologies. Click here to check it out!

Babyteeth is a fiercely independent film about a terminally-ill teenage girl who, while coming to terms with her diagnosis, falls in love with a troubled young man. If that logline sounds familiar, it’s because it is. At this point ‘teenage cancer drama’ may as well be a standalone genre or at least a loose title for grouping popular tearjerkers where teens find love and then die.

Before I had even finished John Cassavetes’ Love Streams (1984) I had already attempted to define it, or at least pin down the reason for its praise. My in-the-moment analysis was as follows: no doubt, I am watching a film made-up of memorable pieces, intimate and bizarre human moments made real by charismatic performances from Gena Rowlands and Cassavetes himself, both of whom play equally broken people; however, these pieces belong to a messy whole, an overly-personal and convoluted directorial vision that is unsympathetic to the needs and desires of the viewer.

On Wednesday, November 12th, 2019, Disney released their streaming service Disney+ throughout North America. Within twenty-four hours the service had gained ten million subscribers, greatly surpassing analyst predictions (Barnes, 2020). By Wednesday’s close, Disney’s stock had risen 7.35%, adding $13 billion to its market cap. Meanwhile, Netflix’s shares had dropped 3.1% (Feiner, 2020)

I have been thinking recently about what attracts people to art. I have a tendency to believe that our initial draw is bound-up in the social world and influenced by selfish motives. It can be a way to gain cultural or social capital, to explore our own identities, and to gain access to new groups. Considering these factors, it can be difficult to discern what one’s own motivation is in seeking it out.

Portland native Gus Van Sant is a true artist filmmaker. He is also a painter, screenwriter, photographer, and musician who has had a major influence on America’s indie scene since the early 1990’s. His extensive and rather eclectic film catalogue presents a high degree of directorial versatility, as it weaves between the worlds of mainstream Hollywood and avant gardist Arthouse with ease.

During my 3rd year of university, I found myself strangely drawn to ’80s/’90s pop culture. I had taken a break from my typical cultural consumption to dive into the synthesized sounds of bands like The Cure and Joy Division, or to re-watch ’80s Hollywood blockbusters usually starring Stallone or Bruce Willis, and even to dabble in some of this time period’s lesser appreciated indie films including some early Lynch and Soderbergh.

When asked about the reasoning behind the Holocaust, survivor Maryla Michalowski-Dyamant’s answer remains consistent and assured. “It’s inexplicable” she says, looking to dismiss the too-often-asked question. In following with Maryla’s sentiments, Nana (the debut documentary directed by her granddaughter Serena Dykman) skips past the tiring search for the why and the how of the Holocaust and chooses not to drown itself in the historical or the political. Rather, it raises awareness of the horrors of these events and the dangers of intolerance by remembering the past in an intimately human manner–through the haunting memories of an exceptional woman and their lingering trans-generational impacts.

Cheers and screams echo through Toronto’s Rebel last Sunday as Archy Marshall a.k.a King Krule lethargically graced the stage. The energy of the crowd and that of Marshall’s appear to be at opposite ends of the spectrum. He strolls out dressed in baggy thrift-store clothing, with a beer in hand and a hunched posture, muttering to his band mates. The crowd erupts. For a split second, his calm, unfazed and sluggish demeanour makes you forget the raw unsteady power of his vocals and the demanding passion embedded in his music; that is until he picks up the mic.

When watching a Wes Anderson film, you are forced to step into his idiosyncratic world of painful nostalgia, obscure familial relationships, dry-wit humour, perfect symmetry and striking colour compositions. One where abrupt jump cuts – often only after Bill Murray has said something apathetic – transport you from one picturesque frame and emotional state of mind to another.

Darren Aronofsky’s “mother!” is not necessarily an enjoyable film to watch. It is like experiencing a bizarre psychedelic trip gone horribly wrong; one, which only days later, you are able to find meaning in. It is manic, disturbing, and psychologically taxing from start to finish. However, much due to these same reasons, it is also irresistibly captivating, thought-provoking and at the very least ambitious in its cinematic goals.

“I just don’t know what I am supposed to be,” explains Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) to the washed-up movie star Bob Harris (Bill Murray) as both characters quietly contemplate their lives. It is a question steeped in naïve uncertainty and existential longing, as well as one that serves as the emotional and philosophical underpinning of Lost in Translation(2003) – an atmospheric, melancholy, and at times hilarious romantic comedy from director Sofia Coppola.