Film festivals, particularly TIFF, are like that one friend who insists their new boyfriend is “different” every single September. And, like the gullible enablers we are, we nod, smile, and pretend this year’s hot indie lineup is really going to change the world—or at least cinema. Spoiler: it won’t. But hey, who am I to kill the collective buzz of agents, producers, and actors who all just want to sell you an Oscar campaign with the same sincerity as a used-car dealer hawking a lemon with “new brakes”?
TIFF 2025 has rolled into town like a giant film-shaped piñata stuffed with dreams, distribution deals, and lukewarm coffee for journalists. The players? Chris Evans, Sydney Sweeney, Angelina Jolie, Vince Vaughn, and a supporting cast of buyers who all look like they haven’t seen the inside of a movie theater since Frozen II.
Let’s get into it.
Section 1: The Chris Evans of It All
Chris Evans is back, but not as Captain America—no, that ship sailed along with Marvel’s Phase Infinity Reboot: This Time It’s Tax Deductible. Instead, Evans headlines Sacrifice, a film about a star-studded charity gala gone wrong, which sounds less like cinema and more like every Met Gala afterparty I’ve ever heard about. He’s joined by Anya Taylor-Joy, Vincent Cassel, Salma Hayek Pinault, and John Malkovich, which means the movie will either be a high-brow meditation on chaos or a celebrity Zoom call someone accidentally filmed.
The premise? A radical group crashes a charity event to snag a mystical artifact tied to an ancient prophecy. So basically, Ocean’s Eleven if it were written by a theology major after three Red Bulls and a tarot card reading.
Will it sell? Of course—it’s Chris Evans. Slap his beard on a poster and half of TIFF will sign a deal just for the marketing materials.
Section 2: Sydney Sweeney Punches Patriarchy (Literally)
TIFF wouldn’t be TIFF without Sydney Sweeney doing something simultaneously “serious actor” and “GQ photo shoot.” Enter Christy, a David Michôd-directed biopic about 1990s boxer Christy Martin. Yes, Sweeney is playing a female fighter who rose to prominence under the “guidance” of her trainer-slash-husband, played by Ben Foster. Spoiler: he wasn’t exactly a supportive spouse.
The film has all the makings of TIFF catnip: gritty training montages, feminist undertones, and plenty of awards-bait bruises painted onto Sweeney’s face. The question isn’t whether it will sell, but whether Netflix will get into a bidding war with A24 while Amazon stands in the corner saying, “We’ll take Europe, thanks.”
If Christy doesn’t land a streaming deal, it will still give TIFF attendees what they crave: the illusion that they’re watching “important cinema” while actually just watching Sydney Sweeney sweat in slow motion.
Section 3: Angelina Jolie Speaks French, Because of Course She Does
Couture is Angelina Jolie’s latest attempt at reminding us she’s more than just Lara Croft with better cheekbones. Directed by Alice Wincour, the film has Jolie performing in French as a filmmaker tangled up in Paris Fashion Week. Because when you think Paris, couture, and existential drama, naturally you think Angelina Jolie muttering in subtitles while Louis Garrel stares at her like a philosophy student in a café.
TIFF buyers will eat this up because it screams “prestige.” Never mind whether audiences will actually pay to see it; the whole point is to sell it as “Angelina Jolie’s French film” and hope for an Oscar nod in Best Actress or Best Wardrobe Malfunction.
Section 4: Vince Vaughn, Lounge Singer Extraordinaire
And then there’s Vince Vaughn. Yes, that Vince Vaughn—the man who built an entire career on talking too fast in rom-coms. At TIFF, he’s starring in Easy’s Waltz, playing a middle-aged lounge singer trying for a second act. If that doesn’t sound like a metaphor for Vaughn’s actual career, I don’t know what does.
The film’s pedigree is strong: written and directed by True Detective creator Nic Pizzolatto, featuring Pacino as an old-school manager, and co-starring Shania Twain (yes, that Shania Twain). It’s either going to be brilliant or the kind of cinematic fever dream that becomes a midnight cult classic by accident.
Expect distributors to circle this like vultures, not because they believe in Vaughn, but because the idea of “Pacino plus lounge singer redemption arc” is just weird enough to sell.
Section 5: TIFF’s Eternal Buyer Problem
Here’s the real drama at TIFF 2025: not the movies, but the buyers. On one side, you have streamers obsessed with analytics, debating whether a film will keep a 19-year-old in Omaha from canceling their subscription. On the other, theatrical distributors are still in therapy from the post-COVID box office slump, asking themselves whether spending $20M on a movie about a piano tuner (Tuner, starring Dustin Hoffman) is better ROI than just setting that money on fire.
Apple barely buys anything. Amazon only wants foreign rights. Netflix will buy global rights but only if it involves Anna Kendrick in a morally questionable rom-com. And A24? They’re TIFF’s prom queen—everybody wants to dance with them, even if they don’t have enough cash to actually cover dinner.
Section 6: New Kids on the Block (Not the Band)
This year, TIFF is buzzing about new buyers like Black Bear Finance and Row K, backed by Media Capital Technologies and Megan Colligan (formerly Paramount). Translation: new sharks have entered the tank, and they’ve brought fresh money to lose.
Meanwhile, David Ellison’s “New Paramount” is flexing like it’s 1999, promising to release 20 films annually. Which sounds adorable until you remember Paramount couldn’t market Transformers 12: Rise of the Shillbots without accidentally alienating half its audience. But sure, let’s hand them more indie darlings.
Section 7: The TIFF Ritual of Standing Ovations
Nothing says “film festival” like a 13-minute standing ovation for a movie no one will remember by February. Venice already handed out a record 23-minute ovation for The Voice of Hind Rajab, and TIFF is ready to join the performative clap-fest.
Will The Testament of Ann Lee (Amanda Seyfried as the Shaker movement founder) get the same treatment? Probably. Because at TIFF, applause isn’t about quality—it’s about signaling to buyers that you’ll clap through literally anything if it means locking in a deal.
Section 8: The Real Hot List (Snark Edition)
Forget the official TIFF lineup; here’s the only hot list that matters:
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The Christophers – Soderbergh, Ian McKellen, and Michaela Coel conning their way through unfinished canvases. It’s either genius or something your weird uncle explains at Thanksgiving while everyone avoids eye contact.
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Poetic License – Directed by Maude Apatow, starring her mom Leslie Mann. Hollywood nepotism so transparent it deserves its own SAG category.
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Motor City – A gangster thriller with barely any dialogue. Because who needs words when you have Ben Foster glaring for two hours?
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Normal – Bob Odenkirk as a substitute sheriff. It’s giving Better Call Deadwood.
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Dead Man’s Wire – Gus Van Sant directing Bill Skarsgård, Al Pacino, and Colman Domingo in a hostage drama. If this doesn’t win TIFF, it’ll at least win Trivia Night at your local bar.
Section 9: Why TIFF Still Matters (Sort Of)
Here’s the thing: TIFF is no longer just about discovering indie gems. It’s about selling completed movies to the highest bidder who thinks “prestige” will make them the next The Brutalist. Sometimes it works—Adrien Brody’s Oscar says hello. Sometimes it doesn’t—see: Eden, the Ron Howard film that got saved from the clearance bin by Vertical.
TIFF matters because it convinces us, year after year, that cinema isn’t dying—it’s just napping until A24 writes another check. It’s also the place where Angelina Jolie can smoke in French, Chris Evans can brood over prophecies, Sydney Sweeney can punch a man into feminism, and Vince Vaughn can croon his way back into relevance.
And really, isn’t that what movies are all about?
Conclusion: TIFF, Forever the Circus
TIFF 2025 isn’t about art—it’s about the illusion of art, repackaged for buyers, streamers, and critics desperate to post about their “discovery” on social media. But hey, illusions are what Hollywood sells best.
So buckle up. Between Chris Evans wielding artifacts, Sydney Sweeney throwing punches, Angelina Jolie whispering “oui” into a beret, and Vince Vaughn rediscovering his pipes, TIFF 2025 is shaping up to be exactly what it always is: a circus. And honestly? We wouldn’t have it any other way.