[TIFF Review] All of a Sudden, Minotaur, Look Back, Fjord

The annual Toronto International Film Festival kicked off last week. On opening day, I caught four feature films: three award winners from this year's Cannes Film Festival and one main competition entry from the Venice Film Festival—Look Back.

All of a Sudden

Directed by Ryusuke Hamaguchi, the Oscar-winning director of Drive My Car, this marks his first French-language feature. The film stars César Award winner Virginie Efira (Benedetta) and Tao Okamoto (The Wolverine), who jointly won the Best Actress award at this year's Cannes Film Festival.

Director of a care facility for the elderly, Marie-Lou strives to introduce an innovative care philosophy based on listening and respecting residents’ dignity, despite resistance from part of her staff. Her encounter with Mari, a Japanese theater director battling cancer, will profoundly reshape her path. By forming a deep, supportive friendship, the two women join forces in a shared struggle to “make the impossible possible.”

The story centers on the encounter and evolving friendship between two women, Marie-Lou and Mari, as they work to implement their care philosophy inside a nursing home. Director Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s past works have typically gravitated toward everyday lives set in unassuming spaces—such as the theater troupe in Drive My Car or the rural community in Evil Does Not Exist. This time, the narrative unfolds entirely within a Paris care facility. Rather than leaning into dramatic tropes like elder abuse or institutional scandals common in similar cinema, Hamaguchi focuses on day-to-day operations, overarching management philosophies, and the fundamental approach to treating the elderly with dignity.

It is hard to imagine how such a premise could sustain a feature running over three hours. Yet, Hamaguchi excels at transforming a simple setup—through nuanced dialogue and quiet character interactions—into a profound contemplation on life’s beauty and uncertainty, the dignity of the sick and elderly, and... capitalism. Indeed, midway through the film, the two leads spend over ten minutes debating capitalist structures. Perhaps only Hamaguchi possesses the audacity and skill to seamlessly embed an academic lecture on political economy inside a narrative feature.

One of the leads, Mari, is fighting cancer. The title All of a Sudden speaks directly to the swift, sudden decline of her health, elevating mortality as a central thematic pillar. For patients diagnosed with cancer or terminal illnesses, the onset of physical decay can feel abrupt and uncontrollable; for the rest of us, cognitive and physical decline is a slow, gradual burn. Regardless of the pace, we are all heading toward the exact same finish line. While that reality sounds inherently bleak, the film channels Mari’s journey and the lives of the nursing home residents to offer a sense of gentle optimism when facing mortality.

Minotaur

This film won the Grand Prix, the 2026 Cannes Film Festival's second-highest prize. It is directed by Russian filmmaker Andrey Zvyagintsev, who previously won the Venice Film Festival's highest honor, the Golden Lion, for The Return. Mikhail Krichman, who won a European Film Award for his work on the director's previous feature Loveless, serves as the director of photography.

Gleb (Dmitriy Mazurov) is a successful company director, whose high-pressure corporate life is balanced by a picture-perfect family — including his wife Galina (Iris Lebedeva) — and a luxurious dacha on the outskirts of a medium-sized town.

But when the Russian invasion of Ukraine begins, pressure mounts on employers to fill draft quotas for the notorious miasorubka (meat grinder) of relentless front-line warfare. With desperate workers fleeing to avoid conscription, Gleb finds an inventive — yet deeply sociopathic — way to secure the 14 "tributes" demanded from his company, echoing the Greek myth of the Minotaur's labyrinth.

Meanwhile at home, Gleb and Galina — mirrored in their shallowness — barely look at each other, with her gaze focussed on someone else. Upon realizing what’s happening right under his nose, Gleb snaps into action — and this time, the blood on his hands will be much harder to cover-up.

On paper, the narrative framework appears fairly conventional—focusing on the workplace pressure of a corporate director and his tumultuous marriage. However, set against the backdrop of Russia’s "special military operation" over the past few years, the story takes on a much sharper, weightier political resonance.

In one scene, the protagonist, Gleb, rushes toward a discreet location but is forced to halt at a railway crossing. A train barrels past, carrying rows of military tanks toward the front lines of the Russo-Ukrainian war. The sequence serves as a potent metaphor for both the story and modern Russian society: everything must defer to the "special military operation," and all else is secondary. In typical corporate dramas, executives lay off employees for profit, treating ousted workers like sacrifices chosen to meet departmental quotas. While job loss is terrifying, Gleb is not compiling a layoff list—he is assembling a conscription list for the Russian army, where being selected effectively means a death sentence. To Gleb, the draft quota is just a cold metric necessary for keeping the company operational; but as the conscripts leave home for military training, the terror in their families' eyes exposes the real cost: human life. This realization casts a heavy, haunting shadow over the thriller.

Gleb is portrayed not as a villain, but as an ordinary corporate manager. Yet, when his marriage fractures, he resorts to the exact same logic—sacrificing others to solve his personal crisis. The parallel between his personal life and his corporate role subtly mirrors how power corrupts, illustrating the sheer helplessness of those caught without it.

Look Back

Directed, written and edited by three-time Japan Academy Film Prize Best Director winner Hirokazu Kore-eda (Shoplifters), the film is adapted from the acclaimed one-shot manga of the same name by Tatsuki Fujimoto (Chainsaw Man).

Fourth-grader Fujino (Furi Nanase) is admired for the comics she makes for her school newspaper. Her world is upended when asked to share the space with her reclusive classmate Kyomoto (Rokka Okada), whose stunning artwork is better than anything she can make. When the girls finally meet, Fujino discovers Kyomoto has been idolizing her from afar all along. Her one-sided rivalry abates, and the two are pulled into an all-consuming love of drawing that carries them into adulthood as aspiring manga artists. The adult Fujino (Natsuki Deguchi) and Kyomoto (Aju Makita) embark on a shared journey where the joys of artistic expression collide with the unpredictability of life.

Following the acclaimed animated feature adaptation two years ago, expectations were high for this live-action iteration. The narrative spine remains almost identical to the original manga and animated film, with a few added scenes to deepen the friendship between the two leads.

As a live-action feature, the film relies heavily on cinematography and score to heighten key emotional beats. Shot on location in Nikaho, Akita Prefecture, the camera captures the changing seasonal landscapes with striking beauty, using shifts in weather and color palettes to reflect themes of youth and isolation. In one memorable scene, the two leads trudge side-by-side through a dense, desolate snowscape—a stark backdrop that highlights the warmth of their bond.

Fans of the original work know the latter half of the story is an emotional roller coaster. The film utilizes Yuta Bandoh’s score alongside the core themes of manga and animation to deliver a deeply moving climax. Crucially, the film avoids manipulative sentimentality; during the characters' highest highs and lowest lows, the camera remains still and observant in quiet long takes, allowing the actors' raw performances to carry the emotional weight.

Fjord

This film won the 2026 Cannes Film Festival's highest honor, the Palme d'Or. It was written and directed by Romanian filmmaker Cristian Mungiu, marking his second Palme d'Or win following 2007's 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days. The film stars Marvel Cinematic Universe Winter Soldier actor and A Different Man Golden Globe Best Actor winner Sebastian Stan, alongside Renate Reinsve, the Cannes Best Actress winner for The Worst Person in the World.

Lisbet (Renate Reinsve) and Mihai Gheorghiu (Sebastian Stan) are a conservative Christian couple who’ve relocated from Romania to an isolated Norwegian town with their five children. Unlike their new neighbours, the Gheorghius enforce daily bible study and don’t allow trappings like smartphones and YouTube. The family’s rigid beliefs cause a stir when one of the children is accused of introducing religious bias into their school by criticizing another student’s sexual orientation. This, however, is just the beginning of the family’s problems. When a teacher notices a bruise on another of their kids, a cascade of events — mimicking the avalanches we see behind the schoolyard in the icy locale — is set in motion.

Unlike her strong-willed husband, Lisbet, Norwegian by birth, is fluent in the local language and adept at navigating cultural nuances. Meanwhile, Mihai, steadfast in what he sees as his right to educate his offspring as he sees fit, admits to the occasional spanking. This triggers a storm of controversy.

The film follows a conservative Romanian immigrant family in Norway whose children are removed by child protective services following reports of suspected abuse at school, forcing the family apart. Told primarily from the parents' perspective, director Cristian Mungiu employs unbroken long takes during intense confrontations with school officials and the agonizing moment social services take the children away. The real-time staging forces viewers to experience the shock of the accusations and the heartbreak of separation alongside the parents. Sporting a shaved head, Sebastian Stan delivers a surprisingly transformed, deeply restrained performance alongside an equally understated Renate Reinsve. Mungiu eschews close-ups, often framing Stan from behind to convey grief through subtle physical posture.

By centering devout, conservative Christian parents, the film examines how progressive Norwegian institutions can appear unyielding and bureaucratic when handling abuse allegations. However, the depiction of school authorities, government lawyers, and police occasionally veers into cartoonish villainy typical of crime tropes: teachers act on hearsay, police coerce Mihai into signing inaccurate statements, and prosecutors present flimsy arguments. In a climate already polarized along cultural and political lines, rendering one side so flatly may divide audiences, as the real world rarely operates in stark black and white. Subplots involving social media outrage and right-wing hijackings are introduced late in the film, but like the courtroom sequence, they ultimately dissipate without full resolution.

Ultimately, Fjord prompts viewers to question the true nature of love and proper parenting. The parents firmly believe that strict discipline and corporal punishment within a religious framework will help their children grow into happy adults. In scenes between parents and children, the kids do appear genuinely happy and loved, and the parents' devotion is undeniable. Yet, as children reach adulthood, they must navigate external values; how they will look back on their upbringing remains uncertain. While the state's intervention appears cold and unfeeling, the film leaves viewers wondering if the parents' ultimate decisions regarding their children are any less rigid.

Photos: TIFF