"Can you lower your triangle of sadness?"

A casting director tells a male model in the opening of Reuben Östlund's Palm d'Or winning film Triangle of Sadness, which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival last night at the Princess of Wales Theatre. A remarkable film that shows that Östlund continues to push the bar on provactive cinema, this time tackling aspects of the rich and capitalistic mindsets that govern our world. I was perplexed, mesmerized, but at the heart of it all I was upset, angered, enraged, because this film represented in a way, everything that TIFF has become.

As much as I loved this film and everything it represents. I couldn't help but be a little pissed off that the seat I was sitting in to watch this movie was $80. A new Tier A system that TIFF had incorporated into their ticketing prices this year. A grand feat from when I used to work there, as well as attend for over a decade now, when ticket prices to a premiere (premium) screening was $40. Which in its own right is a wide stretch for a movie ticket. Charging higher tier levels limit not only one's ability to afford to go, but also create a power dynamic that has never been the heart of what this festival means to me. This was the first year I started calling TIFF a capitalistic festival, instead of one for the people.

TIFF to me has always been a festival for the public because without them there would be no audience. I have spent my blood, sweat and tears immersing myself into this festival but this year was one where I really considered the question, is it still worth it?

Financially no, it's not. A standard day time screening is still roughly $20, which isn't too much of a stretch when an IMAX release can go to $22, but that's IMAX, and TIFF is well TIFF. You go to the festival to be a part of the experience of cinema goers, and see movies before anyone else. This comes especially important for the celebrated film premieres where fans line up and wait to catch a glimpse of their favorite stars on the Red carpet. Some people devote their days and nights for ten days of this festival to be a part of the power of film, because perhaps they can't afford it, or if they could, they probably couldn't get tickets.

Firstly let's talk about pricing. Back in the day a premium ticket which includes premiere red carpet galas and special presentations were $40 bucks each. All tickets were general admission which meant equality. Everyone has equal opportunity to attend and get a seat at the festival if they lined up early enough to get the best spot. In the past I've lined up 2-3 hours before a film started just so I can get that perfect centre spot and immerse myself in that experience, because I'm a cinephile but I'm also just absolutely crazy about film. For everyone I've ever met in a TIFF line up I could see that they were too. There was no difference between those who stood in line for a public screening in regards to price point because everyone paid the same amount, and each seat, no matter what level of the large theatres that exhibited these films, was determined upon your ability to line up and wait.

This shifted a few years back when TIFF introduced assigned seatings. A normality in concerts and other ticketed events, but a bit of a disruption for usual festival goers because the power of where you sit was no longer in your hands. The control was given over to the machines that assigned you your ticket, or if you are lucky and on time to login you can choose your seat, if there's availability.

TIFF has had a variety of ticketing systems over the years since I worked there, but it was only in the last few years that they had partnered with Ticketmaster to solve the issues of consistently crashing every year on single ticket day - the day when all single tickets can be purchased online, on the phone or in person. Every year there's a crash, every year there's an issue, and no one gets tickets to their top film lists. This is because of a membership tier system that TIFF is known for because they are a non profit organization. If you are a member, which they encourage every year to join, you get an earlier start day to get your single tickets. TIFF also offers ticketing packages where you can buy multiple tickets and get an even earlier start time to redeem your tickets before the general public on single ticket day. This gives you the opportunity to select your seats and tickets for your films before they are all sold out by the public on sale day.

A single membership is roughly $99/year, but they have higher membership levels that can start from $450 for Contributor's Circle ships and move well beyond the thousands for a Patron Circle membership which is tiered Platinum, Gold, Silver and Bronze which starts around $2000/year. This is ludicrous pricing for memberships. Your yearly membership does not include your film tickets for the festival. The perks with each membership determine your start time for ticket package redemption as well as when you can purchase single tickets. This elitist approach has already separated those that can afford and those that can't go to the festival. You don't have to be a member to go to the festival, you just have to wait until single ticket day. As much as it is a festival for the people, the availability of what films you want to see is determined by those that remain after the higher tiered members have already secured their tickets. What remains are the scraps by single ticket day. Any big premiere profile films are unavailable by single ticket day, making individuals new to the festival without a lot of options to get tickets - a rush line or from a third party.

A Rush line is where people can line up early to have a chance to a seat in a sold out screening for a lower price point - closer to $40 for a premium and $20 for a regular screening, just the way it used to be all in. Fifteen minutes before the film they allow rush tickets to be given out depending on how many seats remain in the theatre. Your ability to get a seat is also determined by how early you stand in line. The longest I've stood in line for rush is probably 3 to 4 hours which not necessarily guaranteed me a ticket. I was once turned away after waiting hours in line to only come a few people close to getting in. Rush is a gamble. You are rewarded if you are insane enough to arrive five hours before the screening, but who has that sort of time?

One thing that angered me tonight was the fact that in my Dress Circle second row centre $80 seat where I could see the screen perfectly and was to that point satisfied, I couldn't help but notice that a few seats to my right on the first row there were empty seats. But not just one or two, but almost a whole section of about 8 seats were empty before and during the screening. These are seats that I assume we're purchased by a Patron Member, holding the luxury of an early start time perhaps, buying some of the best seats in the house and not attending. Or, and this may be a stretch, a Ticketmaster bot that had gotten the good seats and a scalper trying to resell the tickets that they were unfortunately unable to sell. From both scenarios the former seems a bit more likely, but I could be wrong. Regardless here are a bunch of amazing seats available that could have gone to these troopers in the Rush line. One that I saw stretch from King St up and passed Adelaide and maybe even into Richmond. Like I said some people are crazy and will line up for hours for a premiere screening. So this leads me to believe that someone wasn't doing their job. Whoever was supposed to be coordinating rush didn't count out empty seats and those that were turned away at the start of the movie missed out on the best seats in the house and TIFF lost out on a little extra profit for their non profit organization.

This is where the idea of double booking came to mind, the first time I ever acknowledged that this could be an issue. Wherein the ticketing system could have made an error and released more tickets than there were seats. This was the case for Monday night's screening to Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery. A film so popular that Netflix gave it five screening slots. All of which were sold out. So what ended up happening at this particular screening that I attended was that a bunch of individuals came up from Rush, or a bunch came up as ticketholders and couldn't find a seat. Staff immediately called upon the audience to move over if there's an empty seat or to let them know if there was available so they can sit everyone and start the film on time. This was not the case and time progressed as people looked for seats. It has gotten to a point where staff or volunteers has said that, no one was allowed to reserve seats for their friends anymore, if they weren't in theatre than it's too bad because these people waiting needed to be seated. “If we see a jacket or coat over a seat you are saving, we will remove it so that these people can get a seat,” is what I heard and was absolutely mortified about. I read online that people who got popcorn couldn't return to their seats because they were now gone. Many people were turned away as the screening began. So another wild and outrageous moment to befall this once graceful festival.

It's unfortunate that TIFF falls right at the start of the Mercury Retrograde. Yes, that time of the year where all communication and technology goes on the fritz for three weeks and people are in absolute chaos. What a perfect time to bring thousands of people into downtown Toronto to see films!! Not only are wires of communication crossed, people say the wrong thing or act the wrong way, but technology also seems to malfunction. My data internet wasn't loading as I approached a theatre trying to get my ticket on my phone. How in need we are to our devices ! How subservient we have become to our technology, that the act of ripping a ticket to a film is now a thing of the past. It's not fair to blame all disorder upon Mercury, though it is a major culprit at this time. But regardless of the astrological influences, there are still major issues that arise during the festival every year. It wouldn't be TIFF if something dramatic didn't make the news.

I for one have gotten tired of the drama, I just want to save it for the screen to show me. Life has been too chaotic enough in the last two years to include anything else to shock our systems. We go to films to escape the traumas of the planet and immerse ourselves into art, into the love of cinema that can take us places we could never go but always have wanted to be. It's just a shame that a large percentage of film lovers don't get this opportunity. TIFF is important to me because it takes me to places I've never been, feelings I've never felt, and experiences I could never dream of. I ahve laughed, cried and healed through movies at this festival and I hate that others cannot experience the wonders these film can offer.

The large disparity of what the festival has become in terms of monetary and financial affordability limits regular film lovers the opportunity to attend. If they can afford it, they can't get the tickets from those that can afford to dig a little deeper into their pockets for a chance at the better seats that they eventually don't even attend. And those that have no idea how to even get tickets are stuck waiting at the Red carpet for a piece of some of the action, simply happy to say they saw “insert your famous actor here.”

When you truly look at what we have become as a society you start to see the madness. But if it weren't for films to show us this state of humanity do you think we'd figure it out for ourselves? Is the need for art still important so that we can put the mirror up to our own nature of being? What can challenge and shift us into social change but art? We need art in our lives more than ever, it's just a shame that the value is more attainable for a small percentage than those of the greater public, those that watch with humility because they love film. The same people that buy the tickets to get into the seats that power the box office cycle. The people that fuel this industry. When did the industry decide that the value of the people was no longer valid unless the price tag dictates otherwise?

The triangle of sadness refers to the middle part of the forehead where the eyebrows meet. That little section that wrinkles with stress. A small symbol to name a film, but one that captures an enormous degree of frustration and meaning towards how we choose to live, and what we place value in. This is a movie where a bunch of rich people board a yacht to only have it capsize and experience the polarity of their position. Not only do we worship our capitalistic society, we strive to push it past the limits, to raise the shock value and attain a greater stake in an experience. What is more valuable than an experience? Some would say a lot less than the price of a movie ticket.