Long Weekend

Throughout my life, my family has encouraged a healthy love of nature, whether it be a walk through the woods or intensive birdwatching, a love of heartfelt naturalistic programming, or even camping whenever visiting large cities in Canada and Québec or the U.S (you save a fortune); there's always been an environmental edge to our various activities that's cultivated a robust admiration for the great outdoors, with which I've tried to interact to the best of my abilities, by writing hundreds of films reviews and poems in parks and forests.

Montréal's parks are great for nature lovers and give residents ample opportunity to briefly forget the city (Jeanne-Mance, Jarry, La Fontaine, Jean-Drapeau . . .), or easily recapture that emancipating feeling one often gets laidback in the woods.

Plus you can head out for lunch shortly afterwards or just wander around at random. Can't wait til this pandemic's over. I hear they've already vaccinated more than 40 million people in the United States. 

In most parts of Canada and Québec you have to put up with a long winter, but this keeps the population small, and ensures abundant space for the lazy days of Summer.

Plus, venomous snakes and spiders seem to generally dislike the cold, so our forests aren't as dangerous, although you have to watch out for ticks and bears.

Apart from polar bears, however, bears are generally harmless, predominantly omnivorous in fact, although you should still always keep your distance, since you never really know what they'll do.

I've read several books about bears anyways (The Sacred Paw, Bears: An Altitude SuperGuide, The Blue Bear: A True Story of Friendship and Discovery in the Alaskan Wild, Grizzlyville, Shadow of the Bear: Travels in Vanishing Wilderness . . . ), and they all highlight the generally peaceful nature of bears, but they still do attack at times, so it's best to always keep your distance.

I wonder what the island of Montréal was like on first contact and how many bears used to live there. There must be old studies from the 18th or 19th centuries at the BAnQ. Someday I'll have the time. 

Long Weekend takes place in Australia and sees a married couple head off to the woods, disputes regarding their destination abounding even though it's clearly incredible once they get there.

Unfortunately for them, however, nature is rather irritated by their recreational presence, and assails them throughout their visit, more intensely after they start to fight back.

It's somewhat ridiculous to curiously watch as opossums bite and birds swoop with ill-intent, special effects would have greatly enhanced Long Weekend's trepidation, although I imagine it was cutting edge at the time.

It's not meant to be a comedy but may have benefitted through recourse to the ludicrous, there's a little bit too much sincere improbability to take without a grain of disingenuous salt.

Worth watching for a taste of the bizarro, nevertheless, wildly crafted with frights Down Under.

I wonder what Australia was like on first contact.

So many new species unlike anything Europeans had ever seen.  

Le Pacte des anges

Emancipating encounter, alternative exemplars of cyclically violent circumstances serendipitously clashing in conversations clipped enraged, experiential gruel fuelling uncaged frustrations ala coerced skittish getaway, recklessly bold, blends young, old, unscolded harsh penalties discussed, erupting, penitential precarious predicament, absolving on the run, conscience (quaint) in crucible, materialized beyond the grave, ironic peaceful relations, past lives sunlit shade.

Fates or fortunes fittingly exfoliating to strive lost in longing together for a few.

Mourning steeped in bitters.

Total feminine absence.

Stark cruel loneliness momentarily fades in Richard Angers's Le Pacte des anges, as a man's anger comes back to poetically assault him, surreal justice mischievously at play, a chance for redemption desperately diagnosing rigour, labour, pith, intent, ubiquitous laments, for regenerative heartache.

Grim and bleak origins gradually building towards something beyond destitute survival, materialism buckling under imaginative pressures which environmentally enliven a soul left for dead.

Ungulated indents.

Candlelit coyote.

It's a great film which tenderly examines impoverished spirits to enlighten lively reckonings with fleeting thermal grace.

The accidental and the predestined metaphorically aligning to shelter abstract thought, generations abashed to rebalance conceptions, dialogues taut and trending, traversing wild uncertainties.

Moose really are beautiful when they're dashing through the woods.

It looks like they might collapse with each outstretched hoof, but they know exactly where they're going and precisely where they've been.

I almost fell down the stairs today.

Not really.

Could of though, I suppose.

Smile.

Borealis

Sean Garrity's Borealis hits and misses, struggling to cohesively grind its aesthetic, while occasionally brewing refined diuretics.

Structurally speaking.

It follows Jonah (Jonas Chernick) as he attempts to pay off massive debts through gambling, making one $50,000 bet too many, winding up on the run from a seriously angry old friend.

What takes place in the film functions as a warning to would-be risk takers, although, due to its consistent focus on the regenerative potential of a lucrative lucky streak, it also glamorizes the stakes, albeit in a downtrodden fashion.

Thus it appeals to card players and those who prefer board games alike.

J'aime les deux.

It tries to introduce the bizarre, a quaintly quizzical quandary, as a small vegetarian dog is offered an entire large raw steak on a golf course, logic unfortunately minimizing its impact, since the time it would take to eat the steak would more than likely disrupt the flow of their game.

The script viciously acknowledges this incoherency moments later.

I think a closer study of Twin Peaks is in order.

Jonah's daughter (Joey King as Aurora) is going blind and he convinces her to take a road trip with him (the getaway [she doesn't know she's going blind at this point]) to Churchill, Manitoba, to see the Northern Lights before she loses her sight, and even if arguments abound throughout their journey, their eventual coming together fuels the film's reckless fervour.

It's tough to bond with Jonah.

He is a huge screw-up, and I had trouble generating sympathy.

But the script does excel at slowly delivering personal historical details from his life which do in fact help to eventually generate sympathy, and reminded me not to jump to hasty conclusions.

The ending (spoilers) best describes my thoughts about the film.

After coming to terms with Jonah's creditors, Jonah and Aurora sit on Churchill's rocky shore, relieved about their reversal of fortune.

Jonah must have been freezing since he had recently been tied up and launched into the water, but, whatevs.

The Northern Lights suddenly appear and Jonah points them out.

It's cheesy that they suddenly appear, but then we discover that Aurora has gone blind and can't see them, which grates the maudlin slab.

Highs and lows, sinuous switchboards.

Liked the hitchhiking roadside imbroglio.

And the shots of rural Manitoba.

Almost went to Churchill once you know.

Way back when.