Synopsis
An engineer from Paris flies to Montreal, partly on business, partly in search of parents displaced by World War II, and partly because of the prevailing restlessness of the age.
An engineer from Paris flies to Montreal, partly on business, partly in search of parents displaced by World War II, and partly because of the prevailing restlessness of the age.
One minute you’re boarding a flight for a simple business trip then before you know it you’re explaining time zones and the rotating earth and the structure of the cosmos to a 10-year-old
🐘 Éléphant : mémoire du cinéma québécois 🐘
J'ai été envoûté dès les premières notes de musique de cette clarinette jazz. Absorbé par ce somptueux noir et blanc, ce Montréal dépeint tantôt comme une sci-fi, tantôt sorti tout droit d'un film noir. Élégante et onirique, une des plus belles photographies que j'ai vues dans un film québécois.
Ce personnage venu de la France, en visite dans cet univers qui n'est pas le sien, à la recherche de ses origines (beau concept ironique), ça aurait autant pu être moi tant la ville a changé depuis. On fait un tour d'hélico survolant l'Île Sainte-Hélène en pleine construction pour l'Expo 67, j'étais aussi captivé que le protagoniste. Les films de l'ONF étaient tellement cool!
"Ici, l'hiver on rêve de la Floride; l'été on rêve de faire du ski; l'automne, c'est au printemps qu'on rêve... Y'a pas de pays où on rêve autant."
A day in the life of a Romanian UFOlogist living in Paris who travels to Montreal to buy a gun, bang some dude's fiancée, and try to kill a little girl. All because of the fuckin' NAZIs, man.
A breezy movie about a guy who flies into Montreal from Paris on some work stuff for a couple of days, but also to see if he can find his parents that fled to Montreal in WWII. Although the that’s the plot, his search is more something he does on the side as he just sort of hangs out in Montreal and meets various people. This is a pure tourist hanging out in 60’s Montreal vibe sort of affair. Buying gum with little girls, and guns with grown women, he sort of just lets life lead him around and hopes that he finds his parents in his aimless journey. Certainly captures a sort of restless, but aimless energy.
"Laissez-moi vous dire.. ici, l'hiver, on rêve de la Floride. L'été, on rêve de faire du ski. L'automne, c'est au printemps qu'on rêve. Y'a pas de pays où on rêve autant."
Dernière bonne petite vue avant un bon séjour à Regard devant plein d'autres petites petites vues.
This film feels like it's constantly working hard to have no point. It constantly sets up this angle or that angle, kind of pursues them for a bit, goes off on another tangent, sometimes goes back to the other one, and then grasps at something more meaningful in its final moments, but it never really overcomes its inherent aimlessness to make much of it matter. It's carefree enough to at least go along for the ride like a fly on the wall, but it really is as anticlimactic as following any Joe Schmoe on their vacation to just simply watch what they do.
Je suis franchement épaté. L’atmosphère est envoûtante du début à la fin. Je suis rarement aussi enchanté. Le scénario manque beaucoup de viande par contre. J’aurais aimé trouver une histoire écrite de façon plus engageante. Il y a des lenteurs malheureusement.
Godbout était plus intéressé à une exploration onirique de Montréal et comment son protagoniste étranger au Québec cherche à remplir son gouffre intérieur avec la découverte de ce nouveau monde. Il y a une finesse remarquable dans la photographie et la musique. Évidement, c’est très inspiré de la nouvelle vague, j’aurais pas cru que montrer Montréal sous ce style aurait pu être aussi charmeur.
Some sick tracking shots in this. They really knew how to capture a dude doing a walk.
Elite himbo tourism
A Parisian takes a business trip to Montreal. While he's there, he spends far too much time with a young girl he just met, he cuckolds a gun shop worker and steals his fiancée, and he half-heartedly searches for his estranged parents. After 70 minutes, even writer-director Jacques Godbout admits that there isn't much of a story here, let alone a coherent one. Fin.
Despite a vague, meandering screenplay, Georges Dufaux and Gilles Gascon give us some nice moments of cinematography. Points off for failing the Bechdel test—although there are several women with speaking roles, they never speak to each other, let alone about something other than a man. Some downright awful ADR synchronization in here.
There's a subtext in this that suggests Quebecois are like the postwar Jewish diaspora, which: no, they are not, at all.
Overall: an occasionally pretty film made by a writer-director with his head firmly lodged deep inside his own ass. D.
Unassuming story of a man afflicted by war two decades later - he killed people, or watched others kill, I think he says - really stylised editing to communicate the ease with which trauma overtakes his mind. For instance, the repetition of white lines painted on a black parking lot as he walks in a foreign city becomes the flashes of ammunition in an air raid. An engineering exec in Montreal on business, he wanders the streets with a schoolgirl, he meets a woman and a firearms dealer, he searches for his parents who left him as a toddler - too heavy, he recounts - as they fled Romania, for France. Is he desperate for connection, love? It's not that simple, or corny. This has great depth for being so slight and if anything I would have liked more time to explore its ideas (and look at Charles Denner's exquisite face), but that may have ruined the magic.
Montreal mon amour