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Following one last interview, my TIFF experience officially came to an end early afternoon on September 11th. Driving off into the sunset, I spent more than a few moments in quiet reflection, a meditation on the wonders I had seen and the marvelous conversations I had, with filmmakers of all stripes and persuasions, with colleagues from around the globe, and with strangers walking about the streets of this startlingly diverse city that is even more fascinating because it doesn’t recognize just how special it is.

What more needs to be said about the inhabitants of a city that spill into the streets in literal droves on a weekday night to watch an Australian police thriller – of course, it just so happens that the film, Felony, was written and produced by its star Joel Edgerton who, along with his brother Nash seems intent on staging a Down Under revolution to take over film and good for them – with top-notch performances (Tom Wilkinson, Melissa George, and Jai Courtney, all in attendance at the world premiere) and meaty moral complexity. During seven days of festival screenings, I have been far more intrigued by the response from the general public events with polite paid audiences filling houses to capacity and then some. What comes first – world-class screenings or world-class moviegoers? Venues abound, multiplexes, the still-new seeming festival digs, plush screening rooms outfitted for comfort and superior sensual immersion and the people will go anywhere, anytime to get their fix. And TIFF is a primed pimped-out pusher, par excellence.

Labor Day was my final gift, the last gem in my week-long cinematic crown. And while it is not the main centerpiece, it completed the festival for me, encapsulating the high art and quiet performative work that re-invigorates the soul that has seen far too much, too fast and furiously (sorry for that reference) and needs time to settle a bit, before returning to the weekly grind of tracking Friday multiplex openings. The festival is like organic detox, grade-A approved treatment for the cinematic soul.

By way of celebrating and remembering Roger Ebert at the time of his passing, I wrote that TIFF might not feel the same this year because there would be no Ebert sightings in the proper “campus” of the festival. It was unavoidable, the longing to see him, to have his presence bestow a blessing of sorts on the proceedings, but I have to say, this year, I made an effort to reach out to other, to connect and bond within the journalistic community in ways I never did with Ebert. I would like to give a shout out to veteran blogger Jeff Wells (Hollywood-Elsewhere.com), a sometimes challenging daily fix for me that I wouldn’t want to live without. I saw him typing away the day before opening and kept my distance, but Thursday, while wandering around Scotiabank, I stepped to him, introducing myself, and that simple acknowledgement started a flood.

Faces from past years popped up, said hello; others, brand new, sensed that opening in me, I suppose, no doubt assisted by the films. Who wouldn’t want to talk about 12 Years a Slave or Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom or August: Osage County after the screenings? The need to process those first impressions, to share, one-to-one, what we might not be able to get across to readers. While quite reluctantly at first, I soon found myself knee-deep in the weeds of discussions of race and art with the likes of Jason Gorber (filmfest.ca) and Nadia Neophytou (www.missntertainment.com), which inspired a real sense of hope in me that film and the critical analysis of journalists might truly be able to nudge the social and cultural meter beyond the polite surface chatter. We need to move past the fear of offending and being offended to an honest place, where our curiosity sends us forth to investigate our own histories as well as those of peoples, cultures, and nations beyond our borders.

I will remember not only these discussions, but also random moments of spontaneous fun. Henry Louis Gates giving me a quick wink of acknowledgement during the 12 Years a Slave press conference. A wild tangent during my interview with Frank Pavich, the director of the documentary Jodorowsky’s Dune, which was a personal favorite of mine from the festival, that resulted in the seedling of a plan to bring my oldest daughter (currently a high school sophomore) to TIFF in the next couple of years, to further her intellectual and cultural development. This notion dovetails quite naturally with an after school film program I’m trying to get off the ground (WatchWriteNow) that found its way into several of my festival tweets.

WatchWriteNow is a finalist in the Greater Cincinnati Foundation’s Big Idea Challenge (www.bigideacincinnati.com) in the Education category and rooted in my belief that by introducing high school students to critical thinking through film, this will transfer across other academic disciplines. I remember going to see Blue Velvet back in 1986 during its opening weekend (in fact I saw the film several times that weekend) and then rushing to my AP English class that Monday morning, raising my hand and practically begging my teacher, Cleve Latham, to allow us the chance to spend a few minutes talking about the film. I tried to explain how its images and themes seemed somehow important and worthy of consideration in our class. And thankfully, Mr. Latham agreed. We spent about 30 minutes dissecting Blue Velvet and I was hooked. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about that man and that class, and I want to create a program that does that for another student.

That is what TIFF does for attendees, whether press and industry or regular audience members, waiting in lines snaking around buildings and along block after city block. TIFF inspires dreams and conversations, about films and the awards season, but also about life and art. So, thanks, TIFF, for the memories. See you next year!