Behind-the-scenes of TIFF red carpets
Camera flashes. Overachieving journalists. Designer gowns. Elite afterparties. Someone shouting, “what are you wearing?”
This is the glamour that I was expecting when I asked our Editor-in-Chief if I could apply for TIFF red carpet access. “Go ahead!” I was told, “I don’t know what you would do there, though.” Oh Amy, neither did I!
Every year, over one hundred movies have their world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival. For most of these premieres, the festival hosts a red carpet at one of its venues across the city. Onlookers can gather around the barricades to see their favourite celebrities, but only those with a coveted red lanyard can pass the gate for face-to-face access. I was one of the few brave journalists to cross this divide between the plebian public and the bodyguarded elite.
I attended three red carpets over the course of the festival: a Midnight Madness premiere for /River/ at the Royal Alexandra Theatre, the /Elsinore/ premiere at the Princess of Wales Theatre, and the red carpet screenings of the first episodes of Peacock’s /Crystal Lake/ inside the TIFF Lightbox.
Journalists gain access to the red carpets through one of two venues: photo pit or press line. The photo pit is the classic red carpet experience. But the press line is where Instagram reels are born (as well as this article).
TIFF forwards all approved news outlets a list of carpets, with the “talent” that will be present, two days in advance. Then, the journalists submit bids through an encoded website. The following evening, TIFF lets everyone know where they have been placed. By showing up for your bookings and properly cancelling the rest, your chances of carpet approval increase over the course of the festival.
TIFF lets you know that you should wear all black and come fifteen minutes before the media call time. At the carpet, each outlet is assigned a number based on their circulation and influence. I am proud to say that The Strand’s placement ranged from #7 to #39.
The rest of the carpet is a waiting game. Down at the end, it’s a gamble whether or not the talent will even talk to you. But the journalists around you will. I met college radio delegates, independent reviewers, international freelancers, and horror devotees. Everyone I met made me, a 19-year-old red carpet virgin, feel so much more comfortable in my own skin.
At my last red carpet, I interviewed my childhood icon, Linda Cardellini. I asked her about her work, told her that she was the actor I would want to play me in a movie, and then told her how much Lindsay Weir means to me. She held my hand and told me that Freaks and Geeks helped her feel less alone, too. Despite having seen the mundanity behind-the-scenes, despite Andrew Scott running away from me, I left that carpet feeling the magic of Hollywood that we all yearn for. It’s real, and it’s out there for us.