TORONTO – I didn’t get a chance to ask Xavier Dolan my first question before he asked me one. Upon hearing that I had seen and very much enjoyed his sixth film Juste la fin du monde (It’s Only the End of the World), the Quebec director cut to the chase:
“Where did you see it? Not on film,” he said on Sunday, the day of the movie’s Canadian première as part of the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF). “If you see it again, try to see it at the TIFF Bell Lightbox. They’re screening it on 35 mm.”
Juste la fin du monde’s première was to take place in three slightly staggered screenings at the TIFF Bell Lightbox, Sunday evening, in order to accommodate demand for tickets and the filmmaker’s technical request as to the screening format.
Dolan is a big deal, one of Canada’s most acclaimed young directors, and the TIFF screening of his movie – winner of the runner-up Grand Prix at the the Cannes Film Festival, where it had its world première, in May – could certainly have been in one of the opulent gala-ready theatres the festival uses for its major titles.
But being the idiosyncratic, perfectionist cinephile that he is, Dolan sacrificed prestige for purity. Having shot Juste la fin du monde, like all his previous features except his first, J’ai tué ma mère, on the near-obsolete format of 35-mm celluloid film, he wanted the première to be screened with a 35-mm (as opposed to digital) projector, to best display the movie’s rich esthetic attributes.
“I don’t know, I just feel like 35 is the life, the soul of film. To me, it’s not a technical luxury. It’s a movie’s breath, its pulse, like a heart beating. I feel like most of the filmmakers who are so adamant and attached to it and don’t want to shoot on anything but film, like (Quentin) Tarantino and Christopher Nolan – as different as these filmmakers are, it all comes down to the same thing: the depth is inimitable.”
Depth and texture are paramount in Juste la fin du monde. The claustrophobic family drama is framed almost entirely in close-up, the camera lingering on the faces of the ensemble cast, a who’s who of French talent.
Based on a play by late French playwright Jean-Luc Lagarce, the Montreal-shot film tells the story of a famous writer (Gaspard Ulliel) who returns home to inform his estranged family that he is going to die. Much drama ensues as a barrage of words rain down from all sides, from his emotional, doting mother (Nathalie Baye); his tormented sister (Léa Seydoux); irate brother (Vincent Cassel); and sensitive sister-in-law (Marion Cotillard). The intense dialogue and intimate visuals were intrinsically related, Dolan explained, one coming as a result of the other.
“For the first three or four days of shooting, I didn’t know I would film so close to the faces of the characters; but at one point the language was so technical and the characters so verbose, I felt the only way out of this demanding vernacular was to stay with the (actors’) expressive faces so that we could go beyond what is said and really look at their eyes. They’re beautiful actors, truly wonderful, and so we just got closer and closer, tighter and tighter. I’m not pretending it was an accessible choice, but the actors were giving so much, I didn’t want to miss a thing.”
The result is a beguiling duality in which the excess of dialogue is anchored by the vibrant visuals. There is a cyclical, almost musical rhythm to the film, a dance between the outbursts of words and the sensuous imagery.
Understanding how to translate Lagarce’s work to the screen took time. Actress Anne Dorval first presented the play to Dolan while working on 2009’s J’ai tué ma mère. But it took five years before he decided to adapt it. He had his doubts, initially.
“What I loved in the play was how flawed and human the characters are,” Dolan said. “They’re unpleasant, loud, brash, ebullient, violent; but underneath all the layers of emotions they barricade themselves behind, they are so fragile and vulnerable. It’s very clear when you read the play – the second time. The first time, I thought it was not good, or not for me. It was so loquacious and demanding.
“The brilliance of Lagarce’s writing is that he seems completely aware that all these words – so precise, well-thought-out and fine – are useless. It speaks to our incapacity to communicate with each other. All that is said is superfluous and the essential is muted … He seems to be saying, ‘Here we are, disguising ourselves in words and endless chatter, all this really to say I love you.'”
Not everyone got the message. Some early Cannes reviews by mostly American industry publications were harsh, condemning the film as impenetrable and calling it Dolan’s first failure. But he was redeemed in the end, walking away with the coveted Grand Prix and praise from the European press. Four months later, Dolan is not over the ordeal.
“Nothing was redeemed, to be honest,” he said. “The hate remained hateful and the love remained loving. It was loved by the people who loved it the whole festival – the public and the jury members: they recognized it by giving it that great award. It was extraordinary, but I cannot hide that it was extremely hard to deal with the (negative) reviews. Most felt extremely personal and sometimes cruel.”
Our interview time was up. I reiterated my enjoyment of the film and prepared to take my leave, but as I began to walk away Dolan stopped me.
“I hope you can use your words to repair some of the damage of Cannes,” he said. “I’m almost hoping some people will say, ‘What the f–k happened in Cannes? Why were people being so hateful?'”
As trying as the experience was, Dolan didn’t totally lose his sense of humour about it.
“I remember walking up to a journalist who was especially cruel,” he recalled, “and saying, ‘Don’t worry, you’ll like it at TIFF.'”
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AT A GLANCE
Xavier Dolan’s Juste la fin du monde (It’s Only the End of the World) opens in theatres on Wednesday.
