Le règne de la beauté (An Eye for Beauty)

With the passing of the years, conjugal ecstasies having become strictly formal, extracurricular assignations suddenly appear enlightening, to two young architects tectonically seeking closure.

Life goes on afterwards, routines residing in recreational parlance, sports celebrating individual merits receiving spectacular extensions, taking on constitutional communal attributes, as the seasons change.

Denys Arcand's Le règne de la beauté (An Eye for Beauty) is a mature film, shrewdly exercising the interrelationship between stability and desire, focusing primarily on a couple living North of Québec City, the incredible beauty of their surrounding landscape, and the traditions of lifelong friends and family.

Do English Canadians really seem that pretentious?

They certainly aren't eating chicken wings.

People don't shop at IKEA?

How much money do you have to have not to shop there?

The film thematically picks up where L'âge des ténèbres left off, Toronto and rural Québec functioning as counterpoints, reservedly climactic events taking place in Québec City.

There's a chilling moment when Luc Sauvageau (Éric Bruneau) meets Lindsay Walker (Melanie Merkosky) there while his wife Stéphanie (Mélanie Thierry) considers suicide back home for unrelated reasons, trickery in the foreshadow, smashing insomniatic guilt, divine connections abstractly suggested thereafter.

A sub/conscious account of individuality, critiquing while elevating bourgeois attainments, Le règne de la beauté matriculates a reasonable desire, subjugates caution, then exculpates.

L'Âge des Ténèbres

There you have it. You're 29. You don't have a job. You're in school hoping you will find a job when your program is finished, but, more importantly, hoping you do not end up as despondent as Jean-Marc Leblanc (Marc Labrèche) in Denys Arcand's new film L'Âge des Ténèbres (after having found that job in the years to come). Jean-Marc has grown tired of existence, of being married to the top third realtor in the country, of his children, of his government job (where he can’t help people solve their problems), every day, amidst Feng Shui interventions, language hearings, motivational speakers, hard times for being late after an hour and a half commute: and his mother is dying. Things are pretty bleak, and, rather than doing anything about it, he's escaped into dreamland, wonderful daydreams, distracting daydreams, where he is emperor, writing famous novels, appearing on television, randy, promiscuous. But his ennui's so intense he can't even daydream successfully and his banal reality cripples his reveries as well. Very sad. Very pessimistic. Also, occasionally funny.

Arcand's film is dense and scathing. "We can characterize our times with one word: disintegration." "We have no answers for you. Your lives are to complicated, the situation to complex." The cynicism that dominates much of L'Âge des Ténèbres criticizes government departments, health care provision, the nuclear family, public school, municipal by-laws, bureaucratic strategies, linguistic authorities, road rage . . . It's difficult to know whether or not the focus is ironic, poking fun at 'gloom and doom' "this is what's wrong with society" people, genuine, trying to instigate political change, intentionally bleak, allegorically accentuating the realities of Leblanc's castrated lifestyle, or a synthesis of the previously mentioned options, spiraling and reverberating within a tragic, comedic vortex. The commoner must face the realities of his boast. The main purpose of a bureaucracy is to ensure its continuing survival. Is 'genuine' communication forged by a union of souls or a random physical action?

The film's complex, presenting unsettling realities in a fantastic frame. But what political system isn't overrun with legal inconsistencies and bureaucratic redundancy, and how does one go about addressing these issues in a practical manner (which is perhaps the principle point)? Nevertheless, L'Âge des Ténèbres presents insightful observations concerning complex social, ethical and political paradigms, competently portraying a convoluted cultural mosaic with delicate vulgarity and humourous solemnity.

What happens after Leblanc's wife takes off for Toronto is impressive. The lines uttered by Leblanc's co-workers are impressive. The film’s impressive. Even if it's a bit overwrought, the multi-dimensional remainder of L'Âge des Ténèbres illuminates the brightest intellectual darkness I've seen in a while, reminiscent of Five Easy Pieces, Falling Down, American Beauty and Billy Liar, ironically titled, considering its impact.