No more films about generations

The film vanishing lines will soon appear on our screens. It would be a shame to portray it that way the Decline of the American Empire des Y. What a pity that it would be considered a “generational film”.

Posted at 7:15am

The film vanishing lines will soon appear on our screens. It would be a shame to portray it that way the Decline of the American Empire des Y. What a pity that it would be considered a “generational film”.

I’m telling you this because I fear that given our mania for attaching Sunkist labels to anything that moves, some will find it difficult to appreciate the work of the creator trio of Catherine Chabot, Miryam Bouchard and Émile Gaudreault (the in all transparency is a friend).

I loved the play created at the Théâtre d’Aujourd’hui in 2019. The adaptation that we made for the cinema turned out quite well. What is evoked in the theater is shown on the screen.

We follow the six characters at the opening, in the karaoke bar or in the pharmacy. As for the closed session that gets the alcohol flowing and tongues loosened, a moment emerges where all the elements (lyrics, gameplay, production) contribute to nailing us to our place for 45 minutes.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been shaken up like this in a movie theater.

But the question remains: does the fact that the six characters are all in their 30s make this a film about Generation Y?

No crumb.

Since the emergence of the concept of youth in the 1950s and 1960s, we have tended to assume that works of fiction or cinema that bring together characters of the same age group represent them as the monolithic reflection of a generation.

That’s how we tried and still try to see it Rebel without reason, the graduate, The great cold, tea Breakfast club, mid-thirties, The Fall of the American Empire, Children, friends, How I fought… (My sex life), Whoever makes half revolutions only digs a grave and so many other movies and TV series.

But to say that meeting a few personalities chatting over a bottle of Southern Comfort or a joint can paint the picture of an entire generation is like saying that a basket of Île d’Orléans strawberries represents the seasonal Harvest of all berries symbolized in Quebec.

What each of the characters tells us vanishing lines has a range that extends beyond the cage we intend to lock them in. That’s the strength of this film. I, twice her age, as Dalida would say, found myself totally immersed in her fears, her social criticism, her carelessness, her anger, her wounds, her confusion and her many contradictions.

We realize that we all carry a part of these characters within us. I’m like the one who’s half socialist, half capitalist in her comfort, I’m the dreamy creator, I’m the “philosopher” who thinks about the serious stuff in life, I’m this drooling columnist who spouts tons of things and who has to pay for it, i’m this honestly ordinary guy who finds happiness easy, i’m like the one who worries about the future of the planet and wonders how the kids who are born right now will live.

Like these characters, I’m the one who wants to improve the destiny of the planet and who feels guilty just making small daily gestures, the one who sometimes speaks without saying anything and who likes to play around, the one who walks, who takes the bus and subway but also drives a car, who loves museums but does not hesitate to ridicule an inscrutable work, who is proud of his culture but hates the isolation that accompanies our nationalism.

Generation films do not exist. They will in the eyes of those who need landmarks. A boomer, a macrame, a disco, a punk, a new wave, an emo, a hipster, an X, a Y, a Z… It’s so comforting to know who you’re dealing with.

But beyond these marketing formulas, we know that from generation to generation we all want the same thing: to take our place. In the eyes of the makers, this often goes via scenes expressing disillusionment, through suffocating camera sessions that kind of converge into a session about finally telling you what I think of you Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

We want to take our place, we want to exist, we want to say we exist, as the young actors did at a recent premiere night at TNM. And like (in a more constructive way) the actors of the ordinary Grand Cirque 50 years ago.

That is what is beautiful and touching in people. Without that ability to riot and scream in dismay, he’s just an animal like everyone else.

This is what the characters of vanishing lines provide us. They make you feel alive for 1 hour 30 minutes. Less alone. And timeless.

Suddenly we don’t belong to a damn group anymore.

As the character of Olivia, this British Columbia Anglophone rocking solidly through Quebec during a hard-hitting scene, she could have said, “Ah and worse, f… the generations! »

vanishing linesfrom July 6th

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