TIFF 2025 Faces Firestorm Over ‘The Road Between Us’.
As the controversial The Road Between Us approaches its big day at TIFF, the director calls the back-and-forth on screening status “emotionally stressful” ahead of the premiere.
The doc on a retired Israeli general’s scramble to evacuate his family on October 7, the day of the Hamas attacks, is the hot ticket at this year’s Toronto International Film Festival. Roy Thomson Hall, with more than 2,600 seats, is sold out for the Wednesday launch.
My colleague Anthony D’Alessandro broke the unusual path: the film was invited, then yanked, then invited again. What started as a film on one family’s crisis boiled over into arguably the festival’s most debated project during its 50th anniversary.
Barry Avrich, the director, and his lead subject, retired general Noam Tibon, dropped into Deadline’s Toronto Studio for a candid chat the day before the lights go up.
“I’m relieved the film is back, but I won’t lie, the whole process drained me,” Avrich shared with us. “Did I know there’d be pushback because we shot in Israel? Sure. I thought the discussion would peak then die, because in my mind, the critics I’ve heard haven’t even pressed play. I still trust that the film’s heart is a family story, not a political statement. If that’s a reach, fine. What stuck with me was what [Gen. Tibon] managed on that terrible day.”
In that moment, what Tibon managed was getting the call for help after Hamas gunmen stormed the kibbutz where his son, daughter-in-law, and two grandchildren were sheltering that morning—so he raced to get them.
“That was a wild day, a one-of-a-kind day, and I called on all that I’ve got—instincts, experience, the works,” Gen. Tibon said. “The big takeaway for me is that in a chaotic moment, when your loved ones or your community are in serious danger, there are always ways forward. The worst thing you can do is sit at home and watch the news. The best is to move, to act, to save the people you love. That’s the choice I made that morning together with my wife, Gali.”
“As a father, that really hit home,” Avrich responded. “You can’t help but ask yourself: if that were me, what would I do in a moment like that?”
A movie about October 7 is almost certain to stir strong feelings, especially with the world still processing Israel’s ongoing Gaza operation, which has claimed many thousands of Palestinian lives. The anniversary of the initial attack is just weeks away. TIFF’s explanation for pulling the title was brief and never named October 7 or Gaza; they simply said they were uneasy because the filmmakers had not cleared some footage of the attack.
Some critics—including Avrich himself, an ex-board member of TIFF—blasted the festival for alleged censorship. After talks between the filmmakers and the festival, TIFF ended up showing the film after all.
“The uproar came after they first invited the film and then dropped it, and the reaction from media like yours—who have been truly best-in-class by demanding, ‘What’s happening here?’ You had the exclusive, and that exposed the whole situation. It sparked an answer from Hollywood that I’m really proud of. People on any ‘side’ of this divide—there’s really no side, because it’s family—have been asked to pause.
We need to think about what it means to protest a film. If the protest is aimed at the actions of government, go protest. I’m for protest, I’m for free speech. But if the protest is aimed at a work of art, what’s the aim? Where’s the stop? Where’s the start? Don’t buy a ticket. Don’t see the film if the subject matter offends you, and let art carry on. That seems like a clear, respectful way to show your opinion. Protest, if at all, in the way your money—your choice to show up at the box office—speaks for you.”
