Oh, Canada, 2024.
Written and Directed by Paul Schrader.
Starring Richard Gere, Uma Thurman, Michael Imperioli, Jacob Elordi, Caroline Dhavernas, Kristine Froseth, Penelope Mitchell, Victoria Hill, Aaron Roman Weiner, Ryan Woodle, John Way, Dylan Flashner, and Jake Weary.
SYNOPSIS:
Leonard Fife, one of sixty thousand draft evaders and deserters who fled to Canada to avoid serving in Vietnam, shares all his secrets to de-mythologize his mythologized life.
Anyone unfamiliar with writer/director Paul Schrader should be able to sense that his latest film, Oh, Canada, is oozing personal passion. Across its intentionally muddled flashback narrative and bracing need to reveal dark secrets while on the verge of death in the present day, there is a hypnotic pull to this concept – which sees a beloved writer and award-winning documentarian wheeled into a room prepped for him to be interviewed, something that goes off the rails before it begins as he announces that there are unflattering aspects of his life that even his wife (Uma Thurman) doesn’t know about and that this will be his tell-all confessional before cancer takes him to the grave – that has the uncomfortable feel of something private not intended for the average person to know, whether it be viewers or characters in the movie.
The source material comes from Russell Banks’ novel Foregone, a semi-autobiographical confessional. That novelist was also close friends with Paul Schrader (having adapted his writing before), with him apparently agreeing to adapt this one before he dies. Considering that Russell Banks has already passed and that Paul Schrader recently battled COVID and is still suffering scary side effects, he decided to get on with it. Having this information will unquestionably improve upon the depth of any given viewing experience of Oh, Canada (there is also a high possibility that anyone interested in watching this will already be aware of the above), but it doesn’t salvage this from feeling awkwardly rushed and lacking in substantial characterization within the actual movie.
This is more confounding since a great deal of care has gone into the direction, not only taking advantage of documentary filmmaking tactics to elevate the raw, attempt to cut through lies and bring forth the truth and have it out there for people to judge in Leonard Fife’s (Richard Gere in the present, Jacob Elordi in the past) limited life remaining or death, but in other creative choices. Sometimes, the flashbacks are in black and white; other times, they are in color. Jacob Elordi occasionally stands in for Richard Gere during one of those flashback segments. Since Leonard is struggling with his memory, some of his tales converge or begin to make no sense regarding timeline continuity, meaning there is also an element of an unreliable narrator here.
Regarding those artistic choices, questions also arise about “feeling emotion without color” or an all-encompassing immersive commitment to the concept, such as Leonard (when depicted as his older self and the flashbacks) replaying moments in his mind, either as he remembers them or what is left of them. This could also explain the haste in which the film unfolds (it’s only roughly 90 minutes without credits). Perhaps he struggles or doesn’t want to remember the ugliest details of the truth even though he wants to get off his chest, so he is placing an older, wiser version of himself within that memory. Whatever the case may be, it’s not to take away from Jacob Elordi’s screentime, convincingly conflicted while quietly and casually engaging in upsetting behavior, whether it be abandoning loved ones, infidelity, and general womanizing while lying about the love he feels for them.
Paul Schrader consistently makes fascinating directorial choices here throughout, and his actors are up to tackle this challenging formal and structural experiment. The present-day scenes are also compelling, such as Leonard applying his own shame and dirty tactics to psychologically profile others in the room, deducing that the documentary filmmaker conducting this interview (Michael Imperioli) is cheating on his wife and sleeping with the much younger tech assistant (Penelope Mitchell.) Richard Gere narrates such observations with a calm and contained disdain, speaking with authority because he knows he was once that person. It’s an affecting bit to include, expressing the range of Leonard’s misdeeds and the cycle of that behavior still being repeated today.
The “but” here is that the story being told in those flashbacks – including draft dodging by fleeing to Canada – becomes increasingly less compelling as the film continues. That’s partially because Paul Schrader is only interested in hitting upon the significant beats of Leonard’s troubled young adult life and moving on, meaning that everyone he interacts with (which includes hookups and an abandoned adult son) feels empty as if they were footnotes for something more profound never came to be in the script.
Even the intensely personal confessional dynamic loses its way, with the illness and Leonard repeatedly falling asleep coming across as a contrivance to add some urgency to the interview. The payoff for most of this also somehow lacks emotional gravitas but might work better depending on one’s affection for Paul Schrader and Russell Banks. Even the movingly mellow songs are offset by one disastrously corny choice during the ending.
There is a richer version of Oh, Canada to be made, which mostly ends up as a lot of nothing despite the strong hook. One acknowledges and empathizes with Paul Schrader’s wrestling with his own mortality while also wishing he had taken a bit more time to get this one right.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at [email protected]
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