Which is to say that, in 2020, film festivals suddenly are all about the films.

That’s how press will be experiencing TIFF this year, through a virtual system in which movies become available online for a window of time on a rolling basis.

Toronto (along with Telluride, one of the festivals that just outright cancelled its 2020 edition) is often thought of as a ground zero for award season—a place where studios can premiere and build buzz for their big Oscar hopefuls.

And if this year boasts no Joker or Marriage Story or Jojo Rabbit or Uncut Gems or Knives Out (boy, last year was stacked with big ones, wasn’t it?), there’s still the possibility of great films just waiting to be discovered.

It’s a little comforting to know that the pandemic has messed up everyone’s festival plans this year.

The veteran director was slated to serve as head of the competition jury at Cannes 2020, but the festival, held every May, had little choice but to call off this year’s edition.

He’s having a pretty damn good year regardless, between the (mostly) rapturous reception for this summer’s Netflix joint Da 5 Bloods to today’s world premiere of his immediately acclaimed concert film David Byrne’s American Utopia (Grade: B+).

American Utopia immortalizes Byrne’s four-month Broadway residency—spanning from October of last year to February of this one—during which he performed not just songs off the eponymous 2018 record but also a selection spanning his whole career (including, of course, several Talking Heads staples).

Part of what makes that movie maybe the greatest of all concert films is that Demme understood his capacity to create the best seat in the house, not just by bottling the energy of the band’s live performance but by offering vantages no actual concertgoer could ever have.

Late in the film, Byrne’s complicated, multi-song meditation on national identity reaches its most poignant crescendo with a cover of Janelle Monáe’s 2015 protest anthem “Hell You Talmbout.” (Nothing if not self-aware, Byrne acknowledges the optics of him performing this song and reassures us that he secured her blessing.) As the singer calls out the names of Black men and women killed by law enforcement or in hate crimes, Lee cuts to people (possibly family members) holding up photos of the dead.

By the end, you’re grateful for such a loving record of the show, though the upshot is bittersweet: When Byrne and his band make their way through the crowd during the encore, it’s hard not to process American Utopia as both a balm and a requiem for live experiences, like going to a concert with a bunch of screaming fans or sharing a cathartic movie with an auditorium full of people.