Criterion Crazy: The Mobile Closet Experience at TIFF 2025
Written by Andreas Babiolakis
It was the blessing any cinephilic Torontonian could have hoped for: the mobile Criterion Closet was coming to the Toronto International Film Festival. The Criterion Collection has been a staple to film lovers for decades due to the institution’s dedication to preserving, remastering, and releasing over one thousand films that range from stone cold classics, low budget indie flicks, rare finds, international treasures, and cult favourites. This expansive oeuvre transitioned into an obsession of collecting every title held by many practitioners who purchase physical media. To cater to the masses online, Criterion kicked off a YouTube series where filmmakers and stars would enter the Criterion Closet and pick up copies of their favourite films, allowing these like-minded individuals to gush over the motion pictures we mutually adored. This finally translated to the concept of the mobile Criterion Closet: a truck with an interior shaped to resemble the very closet over at Criterion’s headquarters in Rochester.
The mobile Criterion Closet first began touring at the 62nd New York Film Festival last year: weeks shy of the 49th Toronto International Film Festival which concluded earlier. It made sense that Criterion would kick off this idea in a New York-centred event, but TIFF was right there. The opportunity felt wasted, but the Criterion Closet vising TIFF one year later softens that near-miss conflict of last year. What we did have, however, was hindsight: word-of-mouth descriptions of what the mobile Criterion Closet was like. We were warned of five-hour waits to reach Valhalla. Nearly anything was to be available: if it’s in the catalogue, it would be in this truck. Who wouldn’t want to do a little shopping before a high-profile film premiere? The truck was available for the first four days of TIFF, when King Street was partially closed for festivities. This seemed like enough time to gallivant over to the truck and peruse through their stock.
It was not.
The mobile closet would stay perched on King Street for four days. Each morning, hundreds of Torontonians would stand for hours before the closet even opened; nay, before even the line was meant to be open. Two hours before the closet was open to the public, the Criterion team would open their queue for participants to enter and wait in. Of course, eager film lovers would form their own lines well before this queue was even available. If the closet was open at 1 PM and the queue was to open at 11 AM, you would still find people waiting at eight in the morning. This proved to be incredibly difficult for anyone who worked, attended press screenings, or had any other reasons as to why they couldn’t commit to such a strenuous schedule. Nonetheless, the lines would be so long at the crack of dawn that the Criterion team were forced to call a hard stop on people entering the queue before the queue itself was even open. This would happen for all four days.
Once a patient patron would arrive at the front of the line and finally enter the closet after hours of waiting (not even the rain and thunder of the first day of TIFF 50 could deter the hopefuls), they would find a Criterion team at the ready within the truck. Deep into the truck, three of the walls were festooned with Criterion cases in the exact fashion one would see on the YouTube series. The films were organized numerically based on their spinal entries, from the lowest number to the highest. Staff were happy to help you find the film you wanted, should you struggle. You see, the biggest catch is that you were only allowed three minutes to shop, so the pressure would surely be on you while you browsed; one would go from waiting for hours to dashing through the closet as quickly as possible. That is a tall order when you consider how stunned one would be to be in the familiar spot they have seen online many times before (I liken it to watching a game show at home versus being in the hot seat on the actual set and your brain doesn’t function as nicely as you’d think it would). Futhermore, the Criterion team recommend that you go in groups to try and speed up the line outside.
What helps is that Criterion shoppers are gifted a paper list of the catalogue so you can try and figure out your route ahead of time, learning approximately where each of your films or box sets will be (yes, box sets are also available). There is also one other catch, but it may actually be helpful considering how little time you have to work with: you can only have up to three pickups. That’s right. You can not leave with more than three titles, but one could be a box set, for instance. You also don’t need to meet this quota and could select one film, which somewhat defeats the appeal of showing up in the Criterion Closet in the first place: to go hog wild. You can pick up a Criterion release via many avenues. Then again, not everyone’s budget can encompass what three Criterion releases will cost. Fortunately, the catalogue was discounted by — if memory serves correctly — forty percent the ticket price of each title. That certainly helps the wallet of TIFF goers who have already shelled out insane amounts of their cash on festival screenings and merchandise.
Once buyers found their three selections, they would pay for their findings, get a complimentary Criterion tote bag, and have a Polaroid picture taken of them as a memento. Those who would want to record themselves scouring the closet would be able to mount their phone on a device that would face them and the shelves, as if they were in one of the YouTube specials. These are all little things that would make this whirlwind of a day all feel memorable, because the hefty waiting and the blink-and-you-miss-it visit of the closet would surely feel like a fever dream. Those who handled the challenge would exit the truck and stroll around TIFF’s grounds, parading their findings for the world to see. These tote bags of goodies became the Labubus of the festival grounds.
Sadly, this did lead to a number of tote bags getting stolen that I was aware of, because we can never have nice things. More than just films were stolen: these were memories that were yanked away by selfish opportunists. For the most part, most buyers secured their purchases with extreme protection, especially after the thefts were reported. For those who couldn’t attend the Criterion Closet, the TIFF pop up shop at the LightBox would have leftover stock for sale. This was without the much-needed discount, but with all of the time in the world to browse. However, not all of the stock was available in this way; maybe around thirty titles were present (and they were all the newer 4K releases, like Barry Lyndon, Brazil, or Anora). This was at least a great consolation prize for those who could not partake in the strenuous requirements to even get into the Criterion Closet in the first place.
The truck was a major success and the talk of the town, but I do believe that it was also tricky enough that I feel like there could be some major improvements. Perhaps having two trucks to divide up the line would suffice (despite how much work the Criterion team would have to do to maintain their inventory). Maybe Criterion yearns for this exclusivity, where only a portion of their fanbase are fortunate enough to be able to shop in the closet (I understand the privilege Torontonians have in this way). All we can do is look forward to next year in hopes that the mobile Criterion Closet will return and that some sort of protocol is instilled to incorporate more people into this experience.
Either way, even with the many disappointed shoppers who did all that they could to get in and failed, I feel like the hysteria surrounding the Criterion Closet proves that the experiment was enough of a success. TIFF goers met new friends in the queue, just like they would while lining up with tickets or to rush a film. Director Guillermo del Toro visited the closet and its lineup, showing love to the fellow cinephiles; passion unites all, even the artist and the appreciator. The buzz surrounding the truck never died down, even after it crossed the border back into the United States. The pop up shop stock flew off the shelves as well. TIFF is done and the truck is long gone, as if we all imagined its existence; some observers have something to show for it, though, in the form of a bag and exquisite finds. All we can do is wait nearly a year for that truck to return and do it all over again.
Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Toronto Metropolitan University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.