Review by Eric Hillis
Directed by: Paul Schrader
Starring: Richard Gere, Uma Thurman, Michael Imperioli, Jacob Elordi, Victoria Hill, Kristine Froseth
Paul Schrader's last three films - First Reformed; The Card Counter; Master Gardener - all felt like the confessional works of an aging filmmaker who believes their next movie may well be their last. They've also seen Schrader resolutely determined to go out on his own terms, a curmudgeon who no longer cares what his public thinks of him because he figures he won't be around much longer anyway. Given he survived a rough bout of COVID, it's no surprise that Schrader's latest, Oh, Canada, once again plays like the work of a filmmaker desperate to go out on his own terms while simultaneously confessing his sins.
Adapted from a book by the late Russell Banks, whose 1989 novel Affliction was brought to the screen by Schrader in 1997, Oh, Canada sees Schrader reunite with his American Gigolo star Richard Gere. In real life Gere is still as handsome as he was all those decades ago, but Schrader ages him up here to play Leonard Fife, a celebrated documentary filmmaker in the final days of a battle with cancer.
To escape the Vietnam War draft, Fife fled across the border to Canada in 1968. He later took a teaching position at a Montreal college, and now two of his former students - the now Oscar-winning filmmaking duo of Malcolm (Michael Imperioli) and Diana (Victoria Hill) - have arrived in his home to film one final interview for a documentary on Fife's life and career. Malcolm and Diana think they already know Fife's story, that of a young man who defied his nation and built a career across the border, and that's all they're hoping to hear from their subject. But Fife has other plans. He wishes to use the interview as a chance to confess his sins, and he insists that his wife, Emma (Uma Thurman), is present to bear witness to his truth.
Though Fife opens his monologue with a clear and determined statement that it all began "on the night of March 30th, 1968, in Richmond, Virginia," it soon becomes clear that his recollections are clouded. The sickly Fife loses track and even falls asleep at one point, and in these moments Emma attempts to end the interview. She uses her husband's condition as motivation, but it's clear she doesn't want dirty laundry aired in public. We also suspect Emma already knows her husband's flaws, is secretly aware of his indiscretions, but at this point she would rather say goodbye to an idealised version of the man she has loved for decades.
Fife's sins aren't as dramatic as you might expect. He's not confessing to burying a body in the Nevada desert, or anything so extreme. Rather they're very relatable sins of the sort many of us carry but dare not air. He tells stories of lying about his anti-draft heroics, of walking out on his young wife and son, of stealing possessions and lovers from friends. He seems determined to cancel himself. Malcolm and Diana don't particularly care. They would rather print the legend.
Schrader posits Fife's confessional as a form of suicide. And as with any suicide, it's those left behind who ultimately suffer. Fife no longer cares how he's viewed by a public that has always adored him. Emma, however, will have to live with the stain of association. She would rather be known for marrying a legend than a louse.
Is this Schrader's attempt to make excuses for great artists who happen to be not-so-great people? Is he arguing that we should focus on the positive impact of an artist's work on society rather than on the handful of people they might have hurt throughout their life? It certainly seems so, and whether you agree with him will likely depend on how much of a positive impact you believe Schrader's work has had on the world (the people who immediately believe accusations of impropriety against artists are usually those who dislike their work).
I, for one, believe Schrader to be one of the most important filmmakers of the last 50 years, and of the "movie brat" generation, he's the one continuing to do the most interesting, if not always successful work. Oh, Canada isn't always successful but it's always interesting. Gere has evolved into such a fine actor over the decades (his acting skills seemed to significantly increase once his hair turned grey) that his spluttering ramblings here keep us gripped. Playing the young Fife in flashbacks is Jacob Elordi, who would no doubt be top of the list for the lead role if American Gigolo were remade today. Elordi may not physically resemble Gere (he's almost a foot taller for a start), and he may not convince as a young Fife. But that's the point. Elordi isn't playing the young Fife but rather a version of him that the older Fife has both idealised and demonised. Elordi captures this dichotomy, his natural charm at odds with Fife's narcissistic behaviour.
Less successful are the scenes in which Gere and the other aging cast members play younger versions of themselves. Schrader might argue that we're not seeing their actual younger selves but rather Fife's untrustworthy memories. But this doesn't make scenes in which Gere, Thurman and Imperioli are "aged down" with bad wigs any less unintentionally laughable. A scene of Thurman and Imperioli as students in Fife's 1980s class resembles all those '50s b-movies in which college kids were played by 40-year-old actors. As someone who grew up watching white actors play Pharaohs and Indians, it's probably not a detail Schrader cares too much about, but for a modern audience it adds an element of camp that more cynical viewers may struggle to look past. That would be a shame, as while Oh, Canada is far from top tier Schrader, any opportunity to see a great filmmaker go out on their own terms should be grasped.
Oh, Canada is on UK/ROI VOD from January 12th.
