FILM CRITICISM IN CANADA TODAY.

TAKE ONE'S CRITICAL SYMPOSIUM

Take One asked 10 Canadian film critics about what dilemmas they face while reviewing Canadian films. The results are as surprising as they are diverse. The indigenous responses to Don Owen's 1964 film Nobody Waved Good--Bye were so extreme they have become Canadian cinematic legend. Critics across the country savaged the film upon its initial release, dismissing it as directionless and dreary. They thought twice, however, after the film opened in New York, where it garnered very favourable notices. The young star, Peter Kastner, was "intriguing," the direction was noteworthy for its nod to cinema-verite, and the film was actually saying something about the mental space of young adults. Suddenly, Canadian critics were having second thoughts. The tale says much about Canadians' attitudes about ourselves, but specifically, raises questions about how we review our own films.

Cut to today and our film culture is seen as far more rich and vital. Take the five films nominated for the Genies in any of the past 10 years, say industry onlookers, and you have a watchable movie. But while critics may be more upbeat about the films themselves, the public remains hesitant. Too often, filmgoers have been known to complain Canuck film critics engage in a crude form of jingoistic cheerleading or give films the thumbs-up stamp when they should have been panned. Thus Canadian film critics find themselves in something of a quandary: Do they err on the side of caution? Do they treat homegrown product with kid gloves? Or do they go for the jugular, as they would with the latest Hollywood product?

In the spirit of Take One's 10th anniversary, we asked 10 Canadian film critics to discuss their feelings about the dilemmas and intricacies they face while reviewing film from their own country. As might be expected, not everyone agreed on what these dilemmas and intricacies are.

Ken Eisner The Georgia Straight

The argument that film criticism can be divided into Canadian and non-Canadian categories seems a spunous one. Writers rarely go in for a task this thankless because of intense loyalties or long--standing vendettas, so regional and tribal inclinations only tend to show up later, after learning a battery of otherwise useless skills. In fact, the whole notion of reserving special judgment for one's own national cinema is highly condescending, a trap many American critics are able to avoid only because, like their new president, they've been largely spared the knowledge that other nations exist. With Hollywood's polyunsaturated breath forever on our necks, it's hard to be so sanguine up here. In that sense, arts writers can't really be blamed for a slight tilt toward boosterism. in practice, however, the leaning has been the other way, with the tall--poppy syndrome more evident than any patriotic fervour.

Anyway, small Canadian films rarely make it past the festival circuit, in which they are competing with European and Asian fare that critics also know will probably not return. Although there are the occasional small causes celebres, such as last year's New Waterford Girl or the recent Protection, which lightly penetrate the public consciousness, critics know their words will make little difference, except to the press-hungry filmmakers themselves. Thanks to an overall tone of know-nothingism, fostered by dumbed--down dailies hiring "critics" better suited to a college paper rock column and weeklies that substitute institutionalized crankiness for informed discussion, much of this ink is of little lasting value. In fact, perhaps only the odd review by Montreal's Brendan Kelly or myself carries much show-business weight, and that's merely because we're the two north-of-the-border critics regularly contributing to Variety, a trade publication specifically aimed at American distributors.

This is discussion running parallel to a more urgent one that should be had about the government funding bodies that add up to a de facto studio system in Canada. A while ago, one Telefilm--type confided in me, without apparent irony, that with the money--spending mandates they're given -- generally relating to Canadian content and other non-aesthetic elements - such government agencies would rather fund 10 Rupert's Lands than one Shakespeare in Love. Peel free to substitute other titles, but the result is a lot of product that doesn't play as if it were made for anything like an actual audience. In the end, regardless of personal prejudices or limitations as writers, motivated moviegoers are still the crowd we're writing for. And I doubt if many of us think of them as Canadians. We'd prefer to think of them as ours.

Katherine Monk, The Vancouver Sun

The biggest challenge facing any critic is finding the right balance between intimacy and distance, On the one hand, you want to have an intimate connection to the work; on the other, you want to pull back far enough to see how it lives up to esthetic concerns of the day -- which have huge historical value. For instance, the early work by Group of Seven painters was criticized by established Canadian critics of the day for being too unfinished. Now, the art is seen on its own merits. In such cases, the critics tell us more about the nature of the Canadian identity than the work itself. So even though mainstream film criticism has become little more than a schmooze--op, it plays a sizable role in establishing and defining the popular current tastes.

When it comes to Canadian film, the function of the Canadian critic becomes even more important because suddenly, we're not operating in the open ocean of international film; we're in the primordial mud puddle called home, where new film species are beginning to pull themselves out of the slime. Do we help them out with false praise? Or should we be extra tough to make sure they have what it takes to survive? It comes down to balancing the two sides of the critical equation, which gets rather blurry on home turf. Not only are most Canadian critics on a first-name basis with the majority of filmmakers in this country, but the work itself is unique and doesn't seem to fit in to any established tradition. As Canadian critics, we have the ability to read our films better than anyone else because they reflect our landscapes and our sensibilities, but we apparently lack the desire to interpret them on their own terms. We damn them for their non-linear approach and overly cerebral stance. We refuse to make the leap of faith and meet the filmmaker halfway. If we don't make that leap from formulaic expectation, how on earth can we expect the audience to do it on their own?

For Canadian film to thrive, we need to guide audiences into a new appreciation of the work, the same way critics decoded the radical brushstrokes of the Group of Seven. Yes, the films are hard to read. Some of them work. Some don't. But we have to see them as artifacts from a distinct cultural tradition that embraces difference over sameness and ambiguity over closure. If we as critics, can celebrate these differences, audiences will as well. We have everything to gain, after all. The biggest problem facing Canadian film isn't the films - but the lack of audience interest.

Rick Groen, The Globe and Mail

Considered in theory (where the light is always clear), the question is as trite as the answer. Should a Canadian critic treat a Canadian film differently than any other? Of course not. To use a shorter, more lenient measure would be patronizing and culturally defeating. To use a longer, more exacting measure would be perverse and culturally defeating. The critic, and (to the extent their functions overlap) the reviewer too, are obliged to bring their usual standards to an indigenous movie, giving Podeswa and Greyson no more or less respect than Scorsese and Kiarostami, moving (as ever) from the particular to the general and back again -- that is, evaluating the aesthetic merit of the specific film, then placing that evaluation within the broader context of both the principals' previous work and the attendant cultural surroundings.

So much for the theory. Is the practice more difficult in the fragile case of Canadiana? Obviously, criticism is a subjective craft and we all have our aesthetic biases (favouring narrative over visuals, or action over dialogue). There's nothing necessarily wrong with such learning, as long as they're consistently displayed. What changes with Canadian film is the greater possibility of indulging in social or political bias -- favouring Winnipeg over Toronto, or French over English, or the director who lives next door over the one who doesn't. To give into those temptations may make you a proud Westerner or a kind soul or a fast friend, but it's got zilch to do with criticism. Similarly, this sort of non-aesthetic bias can get dressed up in the bright robes of cultural nationalism, whereupon a Canadian critic might ,seek to play a proactive role in the nurturing of a Canadian cinema -- arguing for more screens, for more coverage, for attention to be paid. This is laudable, and has the happy result of conferrin g upon our plucky activist an instant elevation in status: to determined lobbyist, to adroit politician, to media pundit, to noble defender of the arts, to all-round sublime human being. Yes, worthy vocations all, yet criticism it assuredly ain't. That's a separate job, which may or may not be best performed from a separated distance.

Brian D. Johnson, Maclean's

Do I give preferential treatment to Canadian films? Yes and no. Yes, I pay more attention to them, but no, I don't relax my critical standards to give them an easy ride. Unlike the newspapers, Maclean's does not review every movie that gets released. There simply isn't the space. So part of my job is to decide which films I'll write about, and I favour those that are good, or significant, or unusual...or Canadian. I try to find room for every Canadian movie that receives national distribution. In a magazine with a national focus, Canadian films deserve more thorough coverage than Hollywood fare, although there are exceptions. I may not fight for space in the magazine to trash a mediocre film from here that has no hope of finding an audience. Canadian cinema has evolved to the point that it no longer needs coddling.

When I began reviewing movies about 15 years ago, I was lucky to see one or two Canadian movies a year that were worth writing about. They had to bear far more than their own weight in expectations. But even now I see no point in being unduly vicious and nasty to Canadian filmmakers, or to any independent filmmakers (manufacturers of Hollywood's toxins are another matter). Criticism should be fair and constructive -- Patricia Rozema once thanked me for a negative review of White Room. The sticky question is this: In a tight--knit film community, based heavily in Toronto, how do you review films by people you've become friendly with over the years? For some critics, the answer is simple: don't go to film--festival parties, don't socialize with filmmakers, i.e., live in a safe, esthetic bubble. But I'd rather take my chances. I'm not only a critic, I'm a journalist, and I enjoy plunging into the fray. That's where the good stories are. I like the buzz, the discourse, the gossip -- everything that makes a film f estival more than just a series of screenings. Sure, I've been known to engage in friendly conversation with the likes of Atom Egoyan, Don McKellar, Bruce McDonald, Patricia Rozema and even Robert Lantos, but these are primarily professional relationships. I want their films to be good. It's no fun being disappointed -- and at Cannes, where art becomes sport, a winning Canadian film makes for a better story. But I'd be doing directors a disservice by protecting them with dishonest reviews. And you have to remember you're serving the reader, not the industry. Needless to say, if you become so fond of a filmmaker that you can't bear to point out that his or her latest work sucks, you should get someone else to review it.

Katrina Onstad, National Post

A hot, sweaty Saturday and the marquee read Maelstrom and waydowntown. I loitered outside, thinking of air conditioning and wishing the movies were showing in a different order, so I could revisit waydowntown (which I loved) and avoid Maelstrom (which I hated). Two young women stood scanning the posters. "Oh God," groaned the blonde, "Canadian movies." That "Canadian" sounded like a swear next to the word "movie" made me feel lousy, but I also understood her reaction. Even though it's hardly true in these cutback times, Canadian entertainment, like the new broccoli-rapini hybrid "broccolini," is stuck with the stigma of being government approved and good for you. Which means canoes and earnestness; which means boredom and suffering.

That moment outside the theatre stirred my already mixed feelings about reviewing Canadian movies. As a good CBC-reared, Trudeau baby, I'm always conscious of the conflicting pulls of home-team affection and my best objective faculties. Most critics feel a twinge of responsibility to nurture nascent filmmakers of any background, to make some room for the anti-Lara Croft release. When reviewing Canadian movies, I think the twinge gets stronger, and critics (subconsciously?) want to assuage the public's "Oh-God-it's-a- Canadian-movie" response; this is the only explanation I can think of for the inflated positive reviews some stinko Canadian films receive. But alone with my keyboard, it's quite simple, really. All films are held to the same standards. A movie is worth more space on a newspaper page if it provokes questions, makes your bones feel like you've been bodychecked, delivers the "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang." I shudder to imagine a critical climate wherein one's truthful response to art is suppressed in favour of a national agenda. And yet often at the Post, a negative review of a Canadian film will yield all kinds of nasty phone calls, as if we have somehow let the team down. Canadian films aren't as fragile as the most sensitive and nervous industry cheerleaders seem to believe. Good Canadian films are simply good films, and easily internationally competitive (the Nunavut movie Atanarjuat [The Fast Runner] was the best film at Cannes this year, in my opinion). If the good Canadian films don't engage the public, it's because they aren't easily seen, a responsibility that doesn't lie only with critics but with theatre owners, broadcasters or marketers. Above all, I won't lie to the reader, maple--leaf brand or not. So I told the blonde that waydowntown rocked. And Maelstrom? I told her to read the reviews.

Geoff Pevere, The Toronto Star 

If the nub of the issue is whether the compromising of already declining critical standards is worth treating Canadian movies as special-needs cultural products, perhaps we d better evaluate some of the most common reasons for assuming compromising critical positions.

Reason One: It's hard to get a movie made in Canada.

Response: If mere existence were reason enough for praise, we should just dole out those ratings according to Telefilm Canada's annual production report. That way, we wouldn't even have to watch them.

Reason Two: In a colonized, branch-plant cultural context, Canadian movies deserve extra praise.

Response: No. In a colonized, branch-plant cultural context, the colonizing movies deserve to be hammered even harder.

Reason Three: If I dump on a Canadian movie, I may run into the filmmaker and he or she will not like me.

Response: Have you ever seen how short most Canadian filmmakers are?

Reason Four: If I'm hard on a Canadian movie, the producers will ban me from attending further screenings.

Response: Right. As if there's any producer in this country who can risk losing potential press coverage fur the sake of a grudge. Even Robert Lantos is above this.

Reason Five: If I piss too many people off by writing bad reviews of their Canadian movies, my future as a major Canadian screenwriter may be in jeopardy.

Response: Name two major Canadian screenwriters.

Reason Six: I may no longer be invited to cocktail parties at the Toronto International Film Festival.

Response: You are pathetic. Get a life.

Reason Seven: I live next door to someone involved in making the movie.

Response: Keep a very close eye on your cat. Or move: Toronto housing prices are through the roof lately.

Reason Eight: I'd really like to sleep with someone involved in this production.

Response: Then try and do so before publishing the review. No one in the movie business expects lasting commitments anyway.

Reason Nine: I believe I'm supporting Canadian culture by being extra nice to it.

Response: No, but you are being extra Canadian by assuming so.

Reason Ten: What if I go to heaven and St. Peter is wearing a T-shirt for a bad Canadian movie?

Response: Then you've really gone to hell. Abandon all hope.

Denis Cote, ICI 

Critiquing locally produced movies is an art. It is the artistry of measuring risk (I have had to dodge the bullets of vehement producers and filmmakers) as well as of pinning down the movie as metaphor in words and substituting constructive or humorous criticism for the negative. First rule of thumb is to keep my integrity and to take for granted that my reader is intelligent and discerning enough to recognize "his" critic's passions and personality, whereby a relationship of trust develops between us. When I write, I have, as well, an impulse for showmanship, a need to give insights different from that of other critics or columnists.

About 15 Quebecois films are launched on our screens each year. For the past 20 years, the all-too-complicated network of government subsidized, state-controlled productions has put a damper on the emergence of uncompromisingly sharp, bold, even subversive works. From my perspective as a critic, who has taken assiduous notes on generally middle-of-the-road, bureaucratically condoned film products, I feel compelled to stir up the anger of a certain sector of the professional milieu as well as that of all-too-optimistic movie buffs. Faced with the artistic vitality of Iranian, Portuguese, Scandinavian, Hungarian or Asiatic cinematography, and so on, we must bow to the evidence (and write about it) that the "system" in Quebec has led to second-rate comedies and genre movies. It does not foster a taste for artistic risk, as it might, if, for example, some of our bolder directors were allowed to shoot a film more frequently than once every four years.

Confronted with nearly 400 screenings every year, I feel compelled to remind the reader of our cinema's lack of formal audacity and versatility. I feel ill at ease with the idea of giving more tolerant consideration to Quebec films on the pretext of their being national creations. The majority of columnists, who would pass themselves off as critics, and do the profession a disservice, fall complacently and ignorantly into this trap. The debate of "critics vs. auteurs" is an ancient one. To paraphrase the great critic Serge Daney, I would say that the critic bridges the gap between image-maker and spectator through meaningful dialogue. And there is precious little I can do for homegrown creators who all too easily get hot under the collar and refuse to play ball with the critic. French text translated by Viviane Elnecave.

Matthew Hays, Mirror

I can read the responses from my peers now, Of course we would -- and should -- never, ever, judge Canadian films any differently than films from anywhere else on the planet. Movies are movies, we're critics and it's our job to tell the public what they need to know. Straightforward, honest, consumer-report-style criticism should be devoid of any kind of nationalism.

It all sounds good enough, but I suspect that we all, at least to some extent and not necessarily on a conscious level, react to Canadian films in a slightly different way than we do films from elsewhere, In particular, my own careful analysis of my gut and cerebral responses to Canadian movies has led me to believe I do react quite differently to them. (Often times, this analysis entails looking at reviews I've written months ago, reviews I often had to write very, very quickly on deadline and thus had to respond primarily from my gut.) But I'd like to feel that it has less to do with their being Canadian and more to do with their being independent and operating outside of the massive merchandising machine that is the Hollywood studio system. How can one possibly rate two different films -- one starring Julia Roberts, say, and another starring a Canadian unknown -- by precisely the same criteria? For me, the dichotomy comes not so much between Canada vs. everything else, as Hollywood vs. independent (though I realize the term independent has lost much of its meaning in the past decade and is somewhat problematic in and unto itself).

Having said all of this, I confess that I still try, very consciously, to judge a Canadian film on its merits as an independent film and avoid any flag-waving instincts that risk rising to the surface. Last summer, when I raved about Maelstrom in both the Mirror and The Globe and Mail, some doubted my sincerity. When the film made my Top Ten list in December, someone only barely facetiously suggested that it was there to fulfill a quota. Canadian films are virtually always independent, and must be assessed as such. But by the same token, if we are to be believed as critics, we must try, as best we can, to hold out praise for the films that really deserve it. Allow me these two minds on the question; I acknowledge the bias, but try to temper it as best I can, whenever I can.

Quebec being small, in regard to its institutions, and somewhat insular because of its cultural history, its people have always perceived Canadian cinema as being foreign. The birth, three years ago, of La Prix Jutra (an award show not unlike the Genies, but for Quebec-produced films only), has only deepened the rift that separates the two industries, and that indifference can be felt, from inside the walls Quebec has built, about the cinema made to the east or west of it. In such a context, the movie critic's approach to Canadian films is rarely made under the scrutiny of the neighbouring industry or pressure from the local public. In fact, besides some renowned filmmakers such as Atom Egoyan, David Cronenberg or Patricia Rozema, all of who have a very passionate following in Montreal -- let's not kid ourselves and pretend it goes outside the city's peripheries -- Canadian films are seen with a condescending and everlasting suspicion, one fact to feed that argument being that most of them are never shown her e. And, in most cases, those that benefit from a distribution in la belle province are usually released by a passionless distributor (hence the miserable marketing budgets) and rarely generate much interest from the French--speaking press, unless, of course, it's been applauded in a major festival such as Cannes or Berlin. Lynne Stopkewich's Kissed and Thom Fitzgerald's The Hanging Garden come to mind as two good examples of this phenomenon.

Martin Bilodeau, Le Devoir 

On the other hand, and for reasons very similar to those I mentioned above, reviewing a Quebecois film can often be a nightmare. Suddenly, as the release of a new film approaches, the publicists become very nervous, and pressure you to do interviews, sometimes before you see the film, which says two things: either they have very little confidence in the film or that you have not been considered -- by the filmmaker, the producer or the distributor -- to be worthy of seeing it. The latter hypothesis usually means that you have been truthful when you reviewed an earlier work, and the truth is the last thing on their mind when the film enters such a crucial phase as marketing. One fact remains: the Quebec film industry is so close to the media, in terms of distance and influence, that it has come to believe the latter works for it. Unfortunately, many critics have come to believe it too.

I relate to the prospect of reviewing home--grown movies with a gut--churning mixture of pride, guilt, love and fear. It's like they're my relatives. Canadian films rarely come to Nova Scotia outside of festival time, so when a few brave souls exhibit them in the off--season, I feel the impetus to exhort people to go, to dig a little deeper for a reason Reviewing movies in a town with few critics and fewer Canadian films leaves us with an awesome responsibility What if we slag something, and no one comes? Will they just stop sending them? Will it be our fault, the slow demise of Canadian film exhibition? Will we be stoned in the streets? But I don't think it's an automatic response. I don't remove a star from every Kevin Costner film and assign it to a Canadian one (although maybe I should).

Lee Anne Gillan, The Daily News

Canadian films are harder to love; they don't tend to slobber all over you the way Hollywood films do. You have to go to them. Getting in the way are my own prejudices, rooted in childhood, when my Dad would squint at the TV and inquire, "Is this Canadian?" in a tone usually reserved for "What's that smell?" or "Did the dog do that?" I think most Canadians, for better or worse, can spot this country's product at a hundred paces and in under two minutes. Sometimes we throw up a little wall to protect ourselves from all the Canadianess: the dwindling natural resource as a main character; the unhappy ending, just because happy endings are so American; the disaffected hero narrating his own disaffection in a monotone. But I can get pretty excited about seeing anything that comes near to reflecting my life. Heck, I got excited when Kevin Spacey said "Nova Scotia" during last year's Oscar broadcast. Every glimpse of ourselves onscreen works away at that nagging suspicion that, we don't really exist.

When I love something from home I'm definitely prone to flag waving; when I don't, I'm probably less a blind cheerleader for Canada's film industry than something much more annoying; the disappointed math teacher berating students to "try harder, live up to your potential." I tend to cast about for those handy euphemisms like ambitious or unique and save the truly cruel observations for people who can't find me. Why hurt the ones you love when you can hurt the ones who don't know where Halifax is?

CONTRIBUTORS

Ken Eisner, who edits the film section of The Georgia Straight, has been a film Critic for Variety since 1991. Previously, he wrote a music column for the Victoria Times--Colonist and published many reviews and features in such California papers as the San Francisco Bay Guardian and the East Bay Express... Katherine Monk is the film critic for The Vancouver Sun. She recently finished a book on Canadian film, Weird Sex & Snowshoes and Other Canadian Film Phenomena, for Raincoast Books... Rick Groen is a film critic for The Globe and Mail. He abstains from having his photo published in papers and magazines... Brian D. Johnson writes for Maclean's magazine. He is the author of Brave Films, Wild Nights: 25 Years of Festival Fever, published by Random House... Katrina Onstad is a film critic for National Post... Geoff Pevere currently writes about movies and popular culture for The Toronto Star. He is the co-author, with Greig Diamond, of Mondo Canuck: A Canadian Pop Cultural Odyssey, Prentice-Hall... Denis Cote i s the editor of the cinema section of the cultural weekly ICI. While studying cinema, he wrote, produced and directed independent low-budget films. including Des tortues dans la pluie (1997), Mieux (1998), Old Fashion Waltz (2000), Seconde valse (2000) and Kosovolove (2000)... Matthew Hays is film critic and associate editor of the Montreal weekly Mirror and a columnist for The Globe and Mail. His articles have also appeared in The New York Times, The Advocate, This Magazine, Take One and The Canadian Theatre Review. His book, The View from Here: Interviews with Gay and Lesbian Filmmakers, is due out next year... Martin Bilodeau is a film critic for Le Devoir and comments on film for Radio-Canada. His articles have also appeared in the weekly Voir... Lee Anne Gillan is the film critic for Halifax's The Daily News and a programmer for the Atlantic Film Festival.