Michael DeForge sinks Tintin in adventure, mystery and water for Toronto tribute gallery. Illustration courtesy of {a href="http://michaeldeforge.wordpress.com/"}the artist{/a}.

Toronto Draws Tintin
Steam Whistle Exhibition Space (Roundhouse, 255 Bremner Boulevard)

November 2–27
Monday to Thursday 12 p.m.–6 p.m.
Friday and Saturday 11 a.m.–6 p.m.
Sunday 11 a.m.–5 p.m.
FREE

Tintin began his adventures in the 1930s, only hanging up his blue sweater and giving his ageless face a rest in the mid-’70s. Many adult Tintin fans spent their childhoods reading the comics or watching the Nelvana-produced cartoon with the trouble-hunting reporter, his sailor-tongued chum Captain Haddock, and faithful dog Snowy (Milou, for purists). For having brightened so many lives with his engaging and accessible works, Hergé, the Belgian artist responsible for Tintin, is one of the most admired names in comic art history. “The French take their Tintin very seriously,” says Peter Birkemoe, owner of comics store The Beguiling. And if you visit the Steamwhistle Gallery between now and November 27, you’ll find Torontonians take him very seriously too.

“Toronto Draws Tintin” features dozens of works celebrating Hergé by Toronto’s talented, local admirers. Artists from comics to video games, new to old, famous to students have donated a myriad of works portraying the friendly fictional adventurer, ranging from Faith Erin Hicks’ (Demonology 101, Friends with Boys) sentimental embrace to Chip Zdarsky’s (Prison Funnies) hardened, Ron Perlman–statured take, which greets visitors at the exhibit’s entrance. While it would be much easier to pin this peaking Tintin fandom on a certain Spielberg-produced animated epic, this local show has more substance.

“There’s a few points of genesis for this,” says Birkemoe. “One is we wanted to do something to promote a book that is coming out in English for the first time called The Adventures of Hergé. It’s by a French cartoonist named Stanislas, now being published by Drawn & Quarterly.” The graphic biography takes Hergé’s already animated life and adds slightly fictionalized dashes of adventure, to create a story that meshes Hergé’s tale with the ones he famously created. Another big inspiration for the gallery is not nearly as celebratory.

“We had been looking at this case coming up for the Comic Legends Legal Defence Fund,” says Birkemoe, “and we wanted to raise money for the legal defense of a young man.” The CLLDF has been in existence since the ’80s, raising funds to protect collectors and retailers alike from persecution over creative works. They have recently been picking up steam and fuming in Calgary, after an American crossing the border had his laptop searched by Customs where they discovered manga, which officials later deemed “child pornography.” Oddly enough, Calgary was also where a store’s collection of Crumb’s Zap and Weirdo were confiscated, the incident that spurred the establishment of CLLDF. All money raised by auction at Toronto Draws Tintin will be donated to the CLLDF.

Toronto doesn’t need to be told this, but Toronto is plenty talented. Using their well-rooted network through the store and TCAF, the Beguiling sent out a signal flare to all interested, talented types, and while Birkemoe wasn’t surprised by the volume of responses, he was surprised by new faces. “There are many people who I’ve known at the store, because they buy comics from me regularly, and we talk about comics, but I don’t know their names, I don’t know their jobs. But it turns out, as they hand me art, that they are artists too; they just never said anything.”

Established artists, especially of the comics variety, make appearances throughout: Chester Brown (Louis Riel, Paying For It) contributed two re-creations of scenes from The Black Island and Zach Worton (Drawn & Quarterly, The Klondike) submitted a tribute to Haddock’s cussing. Newer star Michael DeForge (LOSE, Thickness) is no stranger to subjecting pop culture icons to beautiful misery; you could argue sinking Tintin eyes-high in a murky jungle pool is “going easy on him.” But Toronto’s talent pool doesn’t end at comic art. Creators of the digital and design world paid respect with gusto.

The Southern influence in Rodrigo Bravo's drawing stem from his childhood in Chile. Illustration courtesy of {a href="http://www.rodrigobravo.ca/"}the artist{/a} .

“The chance to draw Tintin, especially in a pixelated style, is something I knew I’d have a lot of fun doing,” said Miguel Sternberg (a.k.a. Spooky Squid Games, creator of the upcoming They Bleed Pixels), who had grown up reading the books with friends. “He’s just one of those iconic figures you grow up with. It’s been ages since I’ve actually read a volume.”

While styles differed wildly, themes seemed to emerge in neat pairs. Many had recreated or paid homage to specific volumes and scenes, but both Tess Reid and Fiona Smyth (Cheez 100) practised the fan-art tradition of gender-swapping, and Joe Ollmann (Mid-Life) and Rina Picollo (Tina’s Groove) pitted Hergé’s heroes against old age. One coincidence seemed incredibly unlikely, but both Ben Rivers (Snow) and John Martz (Heaven All Day) drew Tintin on a Tauntaun. “I’m amazed,” said Rivers, “but at least the execution is different.”

Star Wars isn’t the only nerd-flavoured crossover in this nerd-filled room. Brice Hall dumped the Tintin ensemble onto the set of Jaws, while Steve Manale (Superslackers) subjected Tintin to a grotesque, The Thing–inspired fate. “I guess it’s been on my brain for a while,” says Manale, who’s actually an extra in the new remake but hasn’t seen it yet. “I love the scene where Bennings mutates and has those gross, tree-stump arms. I just thought I’d cast Tintin in that role. I feel like you can easily see Tintin in the Arctic. It could be that adventure. It would be a shocking, startling scene, but it seemed right to me.”

From detailed paper cut-outs to pixel-perfect prints, Toronto can draw Tintin in many ways. Those who want to take home a piece of the adventure can bid on any work till the closing ceremonies on November 27, when Stanislas will visit to launch his newly translated biography. A nice set of drawings is also available online.

CORRECTION, November 4, 3:55 p.m. This post originally misspelled artist Rodrigo Bravo’s name as Rodrigo Brava. That has been corrected. We regret the error.

SCREENINGS:
Thursday, September 15, 6:30 p.m.
AMC 6 (43 Gerrard Street East)

Friday, September 16, 9:30 p.m.
AMC 5 (10 Dundas Street East)

Saturday, September 17, 3:30 p.m.
Scotiabank Theatre 3 (259 Richmond Street West)

Last month, chances are folks would have never heard of Chinese director Cai Shangjun, though after winning the Silver Lion for best director at Venice odds are… OK, so maybe the average person still isn’t familiar with Shangjun. But to festival types, for an unsuspecting film to float in with an insurmountable status puts on a bit of pressure. Does People Mountain People Sea captivate in a way that earns trophies and trumps the competition? No, not quite. But is it a good film? Oh yeah, totally. Just don’t expect to be on cloud nine come credits and we can all leave a better person.

Having only just returned to the quiet mountains, Lao Tie (Chen Jianbin) has been informed by police that his brother was murdered by an ex-convict. Tie isn’t on fantastic terms with the law, either, owing some debt for criminal negligence. Tie decides to hunt down his brother’s killer, hoping for revenge with a bounty on the side. Going back to the city, Shangjun makes it obvious why it’s somewhere a person wouldn’t want to be if they had the choice. Filth, clutter, crime, drugs, violence, and rape are rampant, though that isn’t to say Lao Tie is above any of it.

People Mountain is aggressively bleak. The contrast between the scenic mountains and the terrible city is the filming location’s gift to Shangjun, because even when things seem unbelievably awful it still feels like this is a place where people actually live. The conclusion is a little too fuzzy for its own good, something Shangjun admitted during a Q&A, but Shangjun has a knack for making shots as unrelenting as the subject matter. Perhaps Venice just didn’t feel like liking the world this year.

SCREENINGS:
Saturday, September 10, 6:15 p.m.
AMC 6 (43 Gerrard Street East)

Sunday, September 11, 1:30 p.m.
Jackman Hall (AGO, 317 Dundas Street West)

Sunday, September 18, 9:30 a.m.
AMC 2 (43 Gerrard Street East)

In Monsters Club, Toshiaki Toyoda brings a very interesting blend of, if not genres, tropes and subject matter that sound unconventionally rancid on paper. But because of very creative and intimate camerawork, Toyoda makes poltergeists and domestic terrorism mix so well it deserves its own subcategory in Netflix. Or at least a list on MUBI.

Ryoichi Kakiuchi (Eita) lives deep within the forests, surrounded by snow and wildlife and not a sign of civilization. But he knows civilization is out there. Rambling off his own manifesto and trying to shrug off his affluent family’s history of tragedy, Ryoichi has dedicated his time to sending nail bombs to CEOs and advertising firms under the guise of a non-existent terrorist sect, Monsters Club. His hatred for the world is as deluded as it is passionate, and his loathing for the system seems to be at a peak concentration until he’s distracted by a new element altogether. Ghosts.

This could be another is-he-imagining/is-he-not affair, but due to Toyoda’s style that’s beyond the point. Ryoichi is tormented, not by spirits but by himself, an antisocial entity that seems beyond able to find peace. Toyoda’s technique is incredibly inspired, but never overwhelming to the substance, a situation many contemporary and otherwise interesting Japanese films suffer. A near–fairy tale affair, Monsters Club is a fantastical look into frightening matters.

SCREENINGS:
Wednesday, September 14, 9 p.m.
Scotiabank Theatre 1 (259 Richmond Street West)

Thursday, September 15, 2:30 p.m.
AMC 6 (10 Dundas Street East)

Sunday, September 18, 8:45 p.m.
Scotiabank Theatre 1 (259 Richmond Street West)

There’s a lot of synchronicity between musicals—the usually flashy, glitzy, and glamorous genre—and the underground ball world as known from Paris Is Burning, where flash, glitz et al. are the name of the game, aside from stereotypical demographics. Certainly this is something that dawned upon Sheldon Larry, who decided to base his song-loaded first feature around the fascinating ball culture. Even with a humble budget and an issue-light mentality, Leave it on the Floor’s sparkle and attitude is something with the potential to shine.

It’s very clear where Larry’s strengths are. While the songs are a bit rusty and overall not-so-catchy, they feel more at home when coupled with the right set of dance moves. Dance choreographer Frank Gatson, Jr. has had a career with Beyonce, so it makes complete sense that scenes are at their best when the songs are at their pop-iest and the dance routines are identical, and maybe even parodying, the music videos of our day and age. Two routines that stand out include a bowling alley–set mockfest of bad swag and worse threads, and when drag pro Princess Eminence (Phillip Evelyn) sings a well-lit bubblegum ballad about the day when Justin Timberlake will finally call his cell for business, pleasure, or both. Leave it on the Floor takes it a bit too easy on the thought that surrounds the culture; alienation and family are touched upon, but the allure to these bombastic balls and the mentality beneath them are unscathed. Perhaps, in the name of bright lights and smooth moves, those were things Larry decided to leave at the door.

SCREENINGS:
Thursday, September 8, 9:30 p.m.
TIFF Bell Lightbox 1 (350 King Street West)

Friday, September 9, 2:30 p.m.
AMC 2 (10 Dundas Street East)

Saturday, September 17, 3:15 p.m.
Scotiabank Theatre 1 (259 Richmond Street West)

We can’t imagine the pressure to be Hayao Miyazaki’s son. Our dad isn’t the most renowned and respected animator/director in the country, he just makes teddy bears, and even we feel the shadow’s weight. Goro Miyazaki’s career didn’t get off to a great start with 2006’s Tales from Earthsea, which at best was kind of pretty and at worst won Japan’s version of a Raspberry Award. I don’t know the politics that led to it, but Hayao has joined his son (as a writer) to help with Goro’s sophomore, From up on Poppy Hill. Alas, this too doesn’t quite reach the Studio Ghibli status quo.

Leading up to the 1964 Tokyo Olympics, Japan all over is experiencing a wave of modernization and optimism. Great for some, but not for students at a Yokohama high school, who find their beloved mansion club house, Quartier Latin, under the threat of demolition. Amidst this, busybody teenager Umi is falling for club leader and orphan Shun, though their budding relationship is stopped uncomfortably cold when evidence suggests they may be related.

There are some very scenic period glances, but it all feels very insider, the attitude that surrounds the tale may only be caught by people who actually lived during that time. Ghibli films are typically mystical and captivating, while Poppy Hill is soapy and dry. There’s an overbearing focus on the less whimsical, relationship drama, which seems to solve itself. There are moments where fun shines through, but the majority makes you wonder why this story demanded to be in the wondrous world of animation.

SCREENINGS:
Friday, September 9, 9:45 p.m.
Scotiabank Theatre 3 (259 Richmond Street West)

Saturday, September 10, 12:45 p.m.
AMC 3 (10 Dundas Street East)

Saturday, September 17, 7 p.m.
Scotiabank Theatre 11 (259 Richmond Street West)

The opinion of what punk means seems to vary greatly from punk to punk. To the punk-come-philosophy prof, punk was an amazing movement of youth absorbed in futureless nihilism. To that guy who’s always skipping class, it’s an excuse to make his hair look goofy. The divide between walking the walk and screaming the talk is the subject of Sons of Norway, a vintage-pin-minded throwback to teen Norway punks back in the noisy days, even if the film doesn’t always seem to know that.

Nikolas is 14, and his family is adorably bohemian with a mother who spirit-heals and a father who deflates the youth’s patriarchy bashing… by joining them. Tragically, Nikolas’ mother dies in a car accident, leaving his father a mess and him drifting into his curiosity with the punk scene. At first repulsed and confused by his son’s fuck-all attitude, Magnus, Nikolas’ father, becomes infatuated by the movement and its politics, smothering his son’s new obsession to the point of joining his crappy scrappy band.

There’s a lot of charm in Sons of Norway, even when things get messy. Sven Nordin, as Magnus, is an applaudable father figure, whose strength in quirks and willingness carry much of the movie. But if anything, the film has made us more interested in the book it’s based on, Nikolaj Frobenius’ Theory and Practice, because as this rapidly shifts between chapters in a we-wanted-to-get-this-all-in way, the core ideas become much more interesting than what the movie gives us. It’s hard to gauge what Sons of Norway is saying about punk—it seems to leans towards pointless jest, though that doesn’t stop Johnny Rotten himself from appearing as anarchy’s Santa Claus.

SCREENINGS:
Saturday, September 10, 9 p.m.
Visa Screening Room (Elgin Theatre, 189 Yonge Street)

Sunday, September 11, 12:15 p.m.
AMC 2 (10 Dundas Street East)

There seems to be a growing tradition that each year’s TIFF must have its own blood-boilingly Canadiana film, and that the film illustrate its dedication to Canadian image through the use of our popular ice-based team sport, hockey. Last year, Score: A Hockey Musical got a lot of hosers’ plaid in a knot over being confusingly included in the festivities and also not being very good. This year’s spiritual successor is Breakaway, which is unfortunate if only because Breakaway isn’t really that bad. Admittedly it’s about hockey and second generation immigrants and they sing the national anthem in a scene and Russell Peters is in it and Drake plays himself in a cameo and somewhere out there is a member of the Canadian Arts Council with a big goofy smile on their face, but as hokey as the hockey foundations are, it’s still a pretty honest and earnest effort.

Newcomer Vinay Virmani plays a young Indian having trouble both respecting his culturally conservative parents while following his heart towards Canada’s sports and pretty white women, root issues I’m certain will touch base for Canadians of all migrations. The drama and humour cruise comfortably at a family-level fun, which means that the festival demographic will rip this one to shreds. But if you happen to love hockey and moreover love the Canadian identity in regards to immigration, then there’s something here for you. Or if you want to see Rob Lowe and Ludacris in the same movie, because I can guarantee no other festival film can deliver that.

Kung Fu action films may not be known as the most nuanced genre in the world, but ask anyone who likes one Drunken Master over another and they’d tell you there are certainly key nuances within them. Being a softy for the first Die Hard’s longest-fucking-day vibe, I couldn’t help but have a crush on The Raid and its constant, brutal assault on my dopamine levels. In regards to the brutality, you will see every inch of a man’s body beaten by fists, feet, knees, elbows, chairs, and whatever the room’s wall is made out of. In regards to the assault, it begins with a crack-den sting going too steadily for its own good before one small slip-up leads to an indoor blood bath between the remaining cops and the suspiciously well-versed-in-fighting drug fiends.

The twists and plot developments are reserved, but those points are smart enough and don’t overstate themselves. It gives the combat breathing room, to say the least, as marathon fights bruise bodies and stain the floor tiles. If Midnight Madness wanted to open with something that would encourage patrons to high-five and air-kick on the way out the doors, then they’ve hit the right stash.

Everyone has a reference point for what a music festival should be like. In the minds of certain generations, SARSStock was a pitch to Woodstock; for others, NXNE is, due mostly to its name, expected to be like SXSW, which many will assure you is simply not a fair comparison. A concert is noticed for its lineup, but ultimately remembered, and persists, for its atmosphere.

How can one festival separate itself from most others and from its audience’s expectations? Could it aim towards some other summer standard? Something more personal? Hard to say, but putting a body of water between you and the city seems like a good place to start.

Last Saturday, the Toronto Island ferry docks were swamped with families and weekenders, people waiting in droves to board the Centre Island ferry to go picnic, cycle, and purchase overpriced Pizza Pizza slices. But a smaller portion of the ferry travellers stood awaiting the Hanlan’s Point ship, destined for a different celebration: the ALL CAPS festival. “The island can be pretty laid back,” said Ryan McLaren, an organizer of the Toronto music series Wavelength. “I think a lot of that comes from the feeling that Toronto just feels like a high-stress place. Once you get on the ferry, it begins to become a very different kind of experience.”

McLaren, along with the folks at Artscape and the Whippersnapper Gallery, have a lot invested in the island’s oft-overlooked gifts of beauty, since last weekend they hosted another edition of their ALL CAPS festival at Gibraltar Point. “The festival grew over a number of years,” explained McLaren. “ALL CAPS was a monthly all ages music series. I did one outdoors show at Dufferin Grove Park, and of all the things I did, it was definitely the most successful. It had this really great, positive vibe, which as you know isn’t always that easy to create. I met Lisa from Artscape and we decided to try it here on the Island instead.”

Wavelength events are known for putting a spotlight on Canadian acts, and this year’s ALL CAPS was no different; the lineup included nerd-leaning rapper More or Les, Eric’s Trip alum Julie Doiron, party jam incarnate Rich Aucoin, avant-funk Muskox, teenage hip-hop-rock siblings Dog Bus, and well-hyped acts Evening Hymns, the Wooden Sky, and DD/MM/YYYY. The buzz about the bands combined with the island mystique proved to be a (flattering) disaster for McLaren, who was forced to turn away floods of patrons who had travelled across the water when his festival sold out within minutes of starting.

“Get closer and sweat on us so we can jump in the lake after and feel refreshed,” said Daniel Woodhead during a performance. Woodhead, a member of festival starter Moon King and generally familiar face to city showgoers, felt that playing outside of the city is key to the festival’s success. “I think it’s super important for bands to play on the island. Once you do it, you’re just like, ‘Hey, this is absolutely the most relaxed time I’ve ever had. We’re sitting on the beach right now and just played a show.’ When can you ever do that? It’s important that we keep the island a place you can be away from the city while still being downtown”

The Artscape studios were open for visitation. Guests could peek in on a variety of creators, working in all sorts of mediums. Some artists prepared installations in what was once the island’s grade school: Eva Kolcze set up a television in a book-clogged closet that played still-flickering footage of the infamous Gibraltar lighthouse, making it seem even more haunted than usual. Kathleen Brown and David Ip were, instead, working on “PeepSqueak,” in which guests were invited to tell stories about the island based on a randomly picked word. Kathleen shared one of her favourites, spoken by a strong-voiced, long-time islander. A bold diatribe about “good spots to do that” triggered by the suggestive word combo “dancing, kiss, fuck.” David Ip supplied guitar murmurs over the recordings. Once done, Kathleen will share them on her SoundCloud.

Kathleen Brown plays a story from her new collection while David Ip supplies chords.

Singer Jennifer Castle carried out a performance art piece with Yuula Benivolski. They invited the audience to the beach and greeted them with a mound of wilting flora, a burning silhouette, and two girls draped in sheets who made their way to the water while a dreary rendition of Alicia Keys’ “Fallin’” played over the waves. A sombre image, indeed, though it was hard for the audience to bite their tongues when a jet ski whizzed by.

Of course, there were songs by the shore. Evening Hymns sang to an audience planted in the sand, the breeze in the trees singing along with their melodies. Several times throughout their set, singer Jonas Bonnetta couldn’t help but be distracted by striking scenes in the distance, from the glowing moon to a ship that reminded him of the one from The Goonies. “Tonight’s very different, feels very special,” said Bonnetta. “We’ve only played two shows all summer and both have been island shows. We played Wolf Island Festival last weekend in Kingston, and this. We play so many shows in rock clubs. That’s not where I write my music or think about my music being heard. That moon…I mean Bon Jovi couldn’t buy atmosphere like that.”

This isn’t the first ALL CAPS festival, and not the first on the Island, but this year there was a simple, substantial change-up and, if you ask anyone with sand in their toes and paint in their hair, it was a game-changer. “From the beginning I pushed to get camping,” said McLaren. “This year they went for it.” After the Saturday acts wrapped up, attendees who weren’t camping rushed off to catch the last city-bound ferries. The overnight campers prepared to kick back, since their tents were set up during the day (except Bonnetta, who said he was an “expert” at setting up tents in the dark). Campers then tackled the first of many night swims, another round of beers, and conversations with old and new friends. Two girls with a bike-powered ice cream cart began selling various flavours of homemade popsicles that were served on small, cleaned sticks of dogwood, lit by a moon so perfectly bright, one barely needed a flashlight. Near midnight, some surprises set up shop. Things unbeknownst even to McLaren.

City meanderers may know of the Lemon Bucket Orkestra, a gypsy music gang who are known to pop up at parties and festivals around town. It seems an area disconnected from the mainland is no exception. People got a real second wind when the Orkestra brought out incense and three vats of paint. Shirts were promptly removed and replaced with layers of red and white acrylic. The parade of the painted and players walked across the street into a grotto the campers had no idea existed: the “ship graveyard,” a waterside venue crafted out of stray vessels and infinite creativity. The band sang while half-naked folks danced and fireworks shot into the air. It wasn’t until sunrise that bonfires on the shore, moonlight swimming, and the Orkestra-accompanied sing-a-longs came to an end.

Rich Aucoin caps off the festivities with energy and party confetti.

The next day’s music started up after a few more hours of beach lounging. Dog Bus, a rap-rock team composed of teenage siblings ranging in age from 13 to 19, stuck to subject matters they knew best, such as ice cream and hopscotch. A fan favourite, the Wooden Sky, played in the shipwreck grotto. Fireworks shot off into the air, at first spooking lead singer Gavin Gardiner, who eventually came around to the fact they were awesome. Some drops of rain came down, so DD/MM/YYYY’s set had to move indoors, but that doesn’t mean they used indoor voices. Rich Aucoin’s video introduction warned that there was no guarantee a festival like this would ever happen again. That may sound like a sobering way to begin a party set, but in Aucoin’s case it was a good reason for him and the audience to give it their all.

The ALL CAPS experience wasn’t based on many common expectations about what a music festival should be. In fact—between taking a bus there, eating from a mess hall, the surrounding foliage, bonfires, and instant friendships—it really felt like summer camp.

“The parties where you make new friends are the best,” said McLaren. “If you can inspire euphoria in an audience, you win. As an event organizer, that is the goal.”

Photos by Corbin Smith/Torontoist.

A spicy food festival during one of the city’s most intense heat waves may turn your skin red just thinking about it, but it certainly did not dissuade those passionate about the heat. At a bright yellow table set up outside Udupi Palace’s glass walls last Sunday, contestants sat with dosa, glowing orange with spice, cradled in tinfoil. These dosa are not wafer thin: the Udupi variety are thick and fluffy, more daunting than others eaters may encounter out in the world. “You do not have to eat so fast,” advised D’Mello, “you eat too fast you could choke on them. When you eat, chew, properly, gulp it down. That is how you win a competition.”
When the war trumpet sounded, contestants began to gobble up the food, assisted by nothing but bottles of water. As players fell one by one, a final, two-minute, two-dosa showdown went down between the last three sitting. Upbeat music played as the audience clapped and chanted dosa! This year the trophy went to Satish Kumar. He participated not for the gut-filling glory, but fond memories of his homeland. “More and more I’m missing dosa,” said Kumar, “my mother used to cook them back home.” The prize is a trophy and a $100 gift certificate to Udupi Palace; Kumar said he’d be making a $100 donation to an orphanage back home to mark the occasion. “I’m feeling better now. I could even eat two more. I haven’t eaten anything since this morning, and I drank a lot of water to expand my stomach—that’s good for the contests. Though this was my first contest.”

Sid (no last name given), who lives in the east end, managed to snack his way into second place. While Kumar was fairly reserved in his victory, Sid was bouncy, laughing off his defeat. “I thought I could win this, but there’s a skill to it, man. I came in second though, I still tried.” Two of the three final contestants were of Indian background, and it may not be a mystery, since eating habits may dictate a resilience to one of the contest’s key adversaries. “It’s not the spicy part that gets to you, it’s the gulping it down. I’m Indian, I’m into spice. But man, I should have prepared a bit more. I think next time I would have practiced the night before. I came on an empty stomach, that’s the best I could do.”
Kumar posed with D’Mello and the trophy as friends and family of the restaurant took photos, then quickly packed up the balloons, table, and tablecloth, while others rejoined the festival out in the street. Mere moments after the contest ended, three young men appeared asking where the contest was. Being told they just missed it, they lifted their arms and jestingly shook fists at the world. The Man v. Food guy was nowhere to be found, but if he happens to read this—consider it a challenge.

“It’s not just a retail business, where you see the same people coming in week to week. I move all over,” said Larry Murphy, a smokey older chef, self-described as a Southern boy “stuck with it” until the day he dies, he reckons. He’s representing Camp 31, an outfit out of Alabama, though they also have a restaurant in Paris, Ontario.
“I would guess I’ve been at about, say, 95, 96 per cent of all the shows in Canada. Been coming since 1985. My good friends, Billy Bone BBQ, actually got me involved in the first ones up in London, Ontario. The Canadian BBQ season is shorter, shorter than what people down South are used to seeing, it was just a big hit.”
Wood in the back, gas in the front, Murphy sticks with one sauce, promising he’s never even so much as sampled the competition. His ribs are tangy and sweet, though his real triumph is the texture: smokey and crisp on the outside, and perfectly in-between a smooth bite and a solid hold inside.

Humble isn’t the word that comes to mind as we look across the fairground, as bright, bold, award-trumpeting banners tower over the BBQ pits. Some BBQ masters, like the ones at Jack on the Bone BBQ, had trouble manoeuvring around their booth due to the surplus of behemoth trophies. “It’s really a matter of how much weight you can haul to make yourself look good,” Murphy explained.
“Even the worst rib you can get here is better than anything you’ve ever had,” said Greg Brunton, Fort Erie local, representing Billy Bones BBQ. “As Canadians we have to try a little harder to win over the crowds, but once they taste us they know that we can compete with anyone else out there. Stereotypically people think that a redneck can cook better BBQ than a Northerner, but we’ve all got a little bit of redneck in us and it shows when we cook. When you’re standing in front of the grill there is no warm day, there is no cold day. Every day is just hot.”
Opening his smoker, Brunton reveals a sight that’s hard to describe at first, though he’ll delightfully suggest, “a train wreck. It’s shocking but you just can’t turn away.” A deep, hot cavern, smoke flutters about rotating carriages of meat, slow cooking for irresistible hours as strips of the food ooze off.
The Billy Bones rib is certainly uncanny. Its well-blended, well-balanced flavour left even seasoned tasters a little stumped for words. Neither too sweet nor too bitter. A little bit of vinegar, a little bit of soy. It tastes like a sauce that, on paper, was built for something else—grilled fish, say—but has instead proved its worth on the rack. It’s a taste that’s odd for a rib, but a good taste that’s hard to forget.
“There is an actual Billy Bones, Bill Wall,” said Brunton, “he’s known as one of the godfathers of BBQ. He’s been doing this for over 30 years. We are fortunate enough to be able to represent him in Canada, we don’t change up a lot of stuff other than what he gave us. We know he’s got a winning system and it shows. This is our fifth event of the year, we’ve all done four events so far and we’ve won first place at every single one, we are undefeated.”

“You Canadians are a lot smarter than us, I’ll give you that,” said Victor Annas, another thick-accented southerner, in his case representing Kentucky Smokehouse. Annas is a charismatic teen who rides around the grounds on a pocket bike covered in the smokehouse’s logoed stickers, when he isn’t resting atop the cooker truck, alternately rocking a bandana and a straw hat. The Kentucky Smokehouse rib is the rebel in the house—on a mission against the reign of overbearing sauces. They go easy with a very light, fruity sauce, letting the taster focus more on something more important than the concoction the cook slathers it in near the end. No, they want you to focus on the process, with a shockingly layered meat that practically gives you a history lesson in the stages of its cooking.
“The deal with our ribs is this: When we smoke our ribs we use a hickory, plum, and peach wood… We believe that the smoke the rib gets from cooking should be complemented by the sauce, not any sort of flavouring agent like MSG or liquid smoke. It’s a real authentic BBQ right here. You can tell when you bite into our bone. First you bite in and it’s got a sweetness, then you bite in and you get the smokey flavour. It has different levels and different textures to it. It really does explode on the tongue. Kentucky Smokehouse has been coming up to Canada for, I believe, about nine years. We went to Etobicoke for all of those nine years, won best sauce multiple times, we won People’s Choice in the London rib fest, just last week I was in the Stratford news for winning first place, week before that Sarnia newspaper for winning first place and I’m hoping for a repeat right here.”
There’s more than just ribs at Ribfest (though there are few complaints that it dominates the affair). No, that’s not an excuse to go with Pizza Pizza just because the booth is there, and please don’t be the person who lines up for an onion bloom first. But if the ribs are the meat on the bone, Ribfest has plenty of tangy sauce surrounding it. There are two stages for performers of every variety: on Thursday night Neverest and Dr. Draw will take to it, and on Saturday KISS and CCR tribute bands. There’s also a carnival, full of games and rides which you should consider partaking in first, before you stuff your tummy with sticky meats, fried food, and beer. But one attraction at the fair is by far more unique than the standard pitched carnival. And while a haunted house is no oddity, its backstory is what makes it special.

“There’s two things we’re doing here” says Jason Datsi, one of the people who runs PACT Haunted Theatre, while being corpse-painted. “We’re promoting the Powerhouse of Terror… [and] we’re also promoting PACT, which is an organization that helps at-risk youths to get on a better track. These trailers that you’re seeing here at the Ribfest are primarily built by the kids. So all the set design you see inside, all the lighting, the character development, make-up, all that stuff is thought up by the kids and built by the kids.”
CarnEvil Manor is no standard annual Screamers effort: it’s got a lot of creativity and a lot of heart. The premise is that you’ve wandered into an eerie commune of carnies, and “they don’t like unexpected visitors,” as the demented ringmaster will explain upon entry. From there you will wander through twisted bedrooms, decaying wardrobes, and strange prize rooms that will force you to navigate through halls of shuffling plush toys and eerie actors. Noah’s the youngest volunteer: ten years old, shirtless in a pig mask, unaware of the irony of dressing like killer swine at a Ribfest. “It’s fun to see people’s reaction,” said Noah, “it’s an adrenaline rush.”

“This is about giving a good show, that’s what it’s all about,” explains Datsi. “It’s giving them an awesome theatre experience. The need for these kids to do community hours is there, they need to do it for school. So for them to volunteer, to build these set designs, do make-up, acting, all that kind of stuff, it’s the sort of thing they aren’t really exposed to otherwise.”
With so many of Toronto’s festivals, food fests included, being palpably corporate in their sponsorship and organization, seeing passions run high for something as simple (though sublime) as BBQ is a breath of fresh, sweet-smoky air. “If you love it, it’s going to come out amazing,” said Brunton of the food. “When Canada Day’s rocking at the Toronto Ribfest, we never see as many people in front of our booth as we do that day. Even though Burlington is the biggest show, the biggest single day for a rib fest in Canada is Canada day here.”
“With this,” said Murphy, “people are able to come across a greater quality of rib from a broad cut of culture. For instance, in the States, when I go get BBQ sauce in, say, South Carolina, it’s a mustard-based BBQ sauce. In Alabama, it’s a tomato-based BBQ sauce. From North Carolina, it’s a vinegar-based BBQ sauce. We got Kentucky here, we got Florida here, all different kinds of tastes you can’t pick up in your own kitchen.”
Just remember to bring some spare wet naps.
Photos by Corbin Smith/Torontoist.
Ribfest takes place in Centennial Park from June 30–July 3, 11 a.m.–11 p.m. each day. Visit their website for more details.

In 1998, A&C was nothing more than your average corner convenience store, a mere wander south of Bloor at 702 Spadina Avenue, and owned by brothers Chang and Gar Wan Toy. Eight years ago the video game enthusiasts started selling used games. The small specialty overran the store faster than you can say, “Your sword is enough.” The final vestiges of the once-general store were energy drinks and cigarettes. When the last refrigerator died, A&C was reborn as a unique hub for an uncanny culture. Now, the space offers more than just games, systems, and accessories, both new and old—it has history and memories, paraphernalia from corny promotional video tapes to collectable toys that even Ebay only knows on a last-name basis.
“I remember I used to go to Funland on Yonge and having that little bit of nervousness when you play against someone you don’t know, a stranger,” said Gar Wan Toy, one of A&C’s owners and curators. “But getting over that and getting to know them, it’s a really good feeling.” Gar says that the idea for A&C World came up three years ago, when Chang dreamed about opening up his own arcade. When their neighbours, a karate school, decided to move, Gar and Chang took over their lease. “And, now, here we are. I would like to have an arcade set up along with the consoles, so gamers of all sorts can come in and play whatever they want.”
What used to be a dojo, in the basement of A&C Games’ building, is slowly but surely stuffing itself with the desired wares and comforts of gamer life. In the first room, consoles, cables, tables, Halo, Smash Bros., Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat, Marvel vs. Capcom, and a floor space open for whatever flailing movements Kinect requires. In the second room, which seems to be the old change room, are the specialty machines. Street Fighter II, The Simpsons arcade game, Bust-a-Move, and, most delightful of all, a vintage Space Invaders cabinet outfitted with MAME, so players can challenge the high-score of everything from Moonwalker to Metal Slug (or the obscure, The Cliffhanger.)
While the space is still being outfitted, there are already in-reference T-shirts displayed on a hanging grid-rack, dozens of Nintendo Power pull-out posters, and even a handful of original fan-art pieces, a collection that the brothers said they’d like to expand.

We talked to Alex, a gamer who was hunched over a cocktail cabinet going at NBA Jam, which he said he’s played since he was a kid. “It has the same atmosphere a lot of gamers miss from the late 90s, early 2000s. What there was before the advent of online gaming.”
Not everything about the late Funland is equally mourned. While it was rich in retro aesthetics, it was also a gloomy den. There is certainly a niche gamer who enjoys lurking around in dim lighting and the company of likely drug dealers and paper-bag drinkers, but many children, parents, and everyday players who really just want to go a few rounds of Puzzle Bobble want something else. What may be the biggest difference between A&C World and what this city has seen before is not just the idea of a community space, but that it’s a safe, clean, and monitored arcade, where kids can game carefree.
Reese and David are much younger than Alex, from a generation that wasn’t around for the heyday of arcades. “I’ve been playing since I was six. So gaming for, like, six, seven years,” said Reese. “I’ve never been in an arcade, but I’ve seen videos. In most of them are older, retro games and newer things like SoulCalibur and the new Street Fighter stuff. I don’t see a lot of the old stuff, like Donkey Kong. I think I would like to see a mix of the two.”
“I came here to play all the old games,” said David, who’s roughly the same age as Reese. “Even though I’ve just been playing newer stuff, Halo and Smash Bros., I’d prefer to see all the old ones. It’s what I was really looking forward to.” Reese interrupted: “I don’t even know what I’m doing,” he said, thwacking on the red cabinet buttons, “I think I am hitting people with a vacuum cleaner. This game is the greatest.”
A&C World isn’t going to run on cruise control. Before World opened, A&C had held regular tournaments in whatever U of T space that would have them on a Sunday afternoon. Now that they have their own large, uncluttered area, the tournaments are increasing ten-fold. Nearly every day of the week, players can come in and casually compete with each other in Street Fighter, Tekken, Smash Bros. (of Brawl and Melee variations), Mario Kart, Marvel vs. Capcom, Pokemon, and whatever button masher can see two or more go head-to-head. Even new games are getting showcases and play-dates, like the long-awaited Rez follow up, Child of Eden. And Nintendo 3DS StreetPass is highly encouraged.
“The importance of going to an arcade is having people play head to head, face to face, in person—not online,” said Gar. “A good arcade is made up of good arcade games. I foresee us expanding and holding way more tournaments.”
A&C World is as ambitious as it is open ended. On paper, it is nothing more than a large, flexible space run by some passionate nerds. But in practice, it’s a place when you can stroll down memory lane at the touch of a joystick. It’s where someone can tell you your level of experience is “no problem” before wiping the floor with you in Marvel vs. Capcom 3. It’s where you can see a decades-old Legend of Zelda board game on the shelf. It’s where Gar and Chang are juggling all the possibilities of gaming life. It’s giving older gamers the space they miss and younger gamers a space they’d otherwise never know. And now it has some leg room. To pull off a flying bicycle kick.
Photos by Zack Kotzer.