Rushfield: Sorry Tale of Two Letters

The Memo Wars of 2023 reveal how far apart this remains for all the wrong reasons

A scene from The Road. (Pictorial Press/ Alamy Stock Photo)

The view from Toronto started out gloomy enough, but by the end of the first weekend it was almost looking like some kind of Danse Macabre — the film festival at the end of the world.

And I write that with all due apologies for hitting the end-of-the-world button again here. Believe me, I've gloomed out even myself here. Even my goth soul is crying out, how about some pink or a powder-blue kerchief with that squid's ink burka?

I've vowed to look for the sunshine that still pokes through (and let the record show I did a whole issue digging up those rays of hope not three weeks ago).

But I'm also sworn to talk about the world as I find it, and as far as this week goes…