The Eyes of Edward James: The short that precedes End of the Line is, in fact, better than the feature. This is an accomplished debut from “Rue Morgue” magazine publisher Rodrigo Gudiño, with masterful use of the first person camera technique to create suspense, and a depth that begs us to watch it again. Much like Ninth Street Chronicles, however, the flaw is that you end up wishing it was a feature. 4/5
End of the Line: The first feature from Maurice Devereaux to play at the festival is, like his previous films, a low budget slasher flick. There is place for the low budget slasher in the Toronto International Film Festival; one of the rather great things about it is it can find diamonds in the thick, unyielding rock of thousands of submissions. However, if you were digging and you found this, you’d dig even further just to bury it.
A young psychiatric nurse, disturbed by the lunatics she has to deal with (she picked the wrong job, clearly) and the overwhelming air of a nearing apocalypse, decides to take the subway home. She’s harassed by a creepy guy; the train stops in the tunnel for some reason; and to make matters worse pretty much everyone other than her (and a rag tag bunch of bickering commuters) turn out to be insane cultists informed by their pagers that it is the apocalypse and they should hurry up and kill everyone as messily as possible.
What follows, of course, is weakly plotted nonsense, as character archetypes argue about what to do/where to go as they get picked off in cheap and nasty, if occasionally inventive, ways. The acting is either wooden or ridiculously over the top, and has an unfortunate air of amateur theatrics.
The ending is utter nonsense, too; the kind of thing that the director probably thought was a wonderfully thought-provoking reveal, but is essentially meaningless. It caps off the film perfectly, really; so serious, yet ultimately ridiculous. 1.5/5