Fitting In: Maddie Ziegler's best performance yet in a heartfelt story about body agency

Canadian writer-director Molly McGlynn’s  semi-autobiographical portrayal of MRKH syndrome is painful to watch yet necessary.

By Isabella Soares

Maddie Ziegler and Emily Hampshire as a mother and daughter duo in Fitting In. (Image via Elevation Pictures)

"The body is not a thing, it's a situation." This quote pinpoints the main question that Canadian writer-director Molly McGlynn poses with her second directorial feature Fitting In.

What is initially a coming-of-age story about Lindy (played by Maddie Ziegler), a teenage girl eagerly awaiting her first period and looking forward to losing her virginity to her high school crush, quickly turns into body horror.

When Lindy goes to the gynecologist for the first time, she expects to get out of her consultation with a birth control method in mind but learns instead that she has Mayer-Rokitansky-Küster-Hauser (MRKH) syndrome, essentially meaning  that she doesn't have a vagina or a uterus. 

Startled by the realization that her dream of one day having two kids is no longer a possibility, and disappointed that she won't be able to have sex as soon as she hoped, Lindy finds out that the only way for her to be able to have a "normal girl life" is if she carves a vagina for herself with a dilator or has surgery. Although she initially sees this diagnosis as an automatic burden, it also opens her mind to what it means to be a girl and the question of her need to fit in.

Something magical happens when a filmmaker tells a story that is meaningful to them. They add even more nuance and details based on their own lived experience. McGlynn's work in Fitting In is personal, and that in itself, is a win. In a way, it seems like the film is a letter to McGlynn's younger self, giving her teenage version an inside glimpse of the hardships as well as the light at the end of the tunnel.

Casting Maddie Ziegler as the main character in this project is also a thumbs-up choice. After her riveting performance alongside Jenna Ortega in HBO's The Fallout in 2021, the actress and dancer's latest acting credit is arguably her best yet. 

Ziegler also has great onscreen chemistry with her character's mom Rita, played by Schitt's Creek alum and Canadian actress Emily Hampshire. Although both are going through different situations, they share the same concern for body image. While Lindy feels like an outsider for not having a vagina like her classmates, Rita is trying to get back into the dating world while still feeling insecure in her own skin as a breast cancer survivor who’s  unable to afford plastic surgery.

Although Fitting In is oftentimes a hard watch, it also sheds light on a much greater issue: body agency. No matter what your body looks like and whether it is conventionally perfect or not, it isn't anyone's business to dictate what you should do with it. From the beginning of the film, Lindy is treated by her male gynecologist as a problem needing to be fixed; it's only when she meets Jax (Ki Griffin), who is intersex and open about it, that she slowly comes out of her shell. 

Despite this coming-of-age tale striking a cord and bringing a fresh perspective about a rarely talked about syndrome, Fitting In does feel underwhelming at times. The pacing slows down towards the halfway mark when Lindy begins to make a series of insensitive decisions. Although Lindy's attitude stems from her urge to conform, the scenes play out like a repetition of many overplayed high school storylines. The film could've also benefited from more satirical song choices, as it does in a scene where "Barbie Girl" starts playing through Lindy’s headphones during a scan.

Overall, Fitting In isn't a total home run, but it is an incredibly important story worthy of attention. From tackling the pressures to fit into a certain mould as a girl to showcasing a diverse cast, the film's strengths are in its powerful storytelling that goes beyond the surface level.

The film does a great job of showcasing humanity over the medical examination, giving the characters heart, soul and personalities that are separate from their diagnosis. Even if the pacing loses its grip halfway through, the audience is still drawn to the characters until the very end. It is also refreshing to know that McGlynn was able to enlighten audiences with bits and pieces of her story. 

The film allows the viewer to sympathize with the hardships of having MRKH, such as not being able to have periods or get pregnant, and undergoing the pain of inserting medical dwindles daily in the hopes of getting sexually active. With so many of these struggles putting into question a girl’s identity, it is heartwarming when Lindy finally lets go of her insecurities and looks at her MRKH with pride. 

Fitting In is currently available on VOD. Click here to rent it through Prime Video.

Sci-fi Meets the Lovable Loser: A review of Relax, I’m from the Future

Relax, I’m from the Future reflects the best and worst of humanity in the funniest way possible

By Caleb Jackson

Caleb Jackson stands in front of a Relax, I'm from the Future poster at the Westdale theatre after travelling to Hamilton to a see a movie that was coming to Toronto the next day :,) (Sarah Grishpul/CanCulture)

Luke Higginson, CBC TV editor for Dragon’s Den and a Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU) film studies alumni, breaks into the world of directing with a bang in his debut indie feature Relax, I’m from the Future.

Self-described as a “dirtbag time travel comedy,” the film certainly delivers on all aspects of this sentiment. The original idea for the story is derived from Higginson’s short film of the same name, which was screened at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) back in 2013. The homemade, youthful angst of the short film permeates throughout the movie, and it is great. 

"I thought it was funny to do a high sci-fi concept with people that were dirtbags that didn't have a strong moral code or a high place in society, and that dichotomy was always interesting and funny to me," said Higginson on how the movie came to be.

In an interview with CanCulture, Higginson said the movie simply couldn’t have been done without his time at TMU. Wango Films, a production company formed by people who also attended TMU around the time Higginson was there, picked up the film due to familiarity with him and his work. He had even edited their first film when they were fresh out of TMU film school. 

In the 2023 movie, a time traveller from the future named Casper (Rhys Darby) crash lands in 21st-century Hamilton (of all places) and slowly learns how to live old school with the help of local resident and punk incarnate Holly (Gabrielle Graham). He swears he has come back in time with a plan to save the world. But does he?

No. Not even remotely. All he wants is a chance to meet with one of his favourite comic artists named Percy (Julian Richings) before he commits suicide on a roof. He is a tragic element in the plot and his story parallels Vincent Van Gogh's, as he only achieves fame post-mortem. Casper plans to ask him his most burning questions and then watch him jump. Isn’t that nice? 

While comedy is clearly the main sticking point of the narrative, there are a lot of interesting themes of nihilism embedded throughout all of the characters and how the movie handles its sci-fi plot. This is seen most obviously in Percy, a man who works a dead-end job and has his walls plastered with his own political cartoons that depict the same superhero dying in many horrible ways. 

When asked about Percy’s characterization, Higginson said a lot of the nihilistic aspects of the plot happened like that because he was going through a major existential crisis while writing the film.

"I was able to sort of channel a lot of my sort of fears and anxieties about the future and about where we were sort of headed as a species and as a society into the script."

Despite these heavy themes, the film never takes itself too seriously. The viewer is constantly torn between being shocked by the terrible things the protagonists do and laughing at the absurdity of it all-- a quality Higginson told us he wanted to make sure was captured when casting these characters.

“The most important thing was that we needed someone who was inherently, extremely likeable - you have to sort of be on [Casper’s] side during a lot of this stuff, you have to still like him while he’s being a doofus,” said Higginson. 

It's honestly why the movie works as well as it does. Rhys Darby brings an addictingly charismatic dork energy to Casper that makes his selfish and arguably horrid actions easy to stomach.  It’s quite reminiscent of the characters in It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia in that way. It’s a total and utter mess, but you just can not look away.

In comparison to Casper, Gabrielle Graham’s Holly has a lot more heart. Initially, she is just in it for the get-rich-quick scheme. But Holly works as a sort of grounding for Casper and his decision-making as her morals and self-confidence grow over time until she becomes the leader of a resistance movement to actually save the future. Able to bounce off of Rhys and steal a couple of scenes herself, Graham brings relatability to her role as the straight man and balances out the wackiness of the rest of the film.

“I was watching David Cronenberg’s Possessor and I saw [Gabrielle Graham] and I was like who is that? And then I was like, ‘Oh, she’s Canadian, she’s playing a character named Holly, this is a fucking sign!’” said Higginson.

The majority of the film is spent with quirky, questionable tomfoolery ensuing between Casper and Holly. They use Casper’s knowledge of the future to make Holly rich while Casper lives in the middle of the Ontario wilderness. He spends his time burying 21st-century items on land owned by a beautiful example of the Canadian hick (Zachary Bennett, the short film's original actor for Casper!)

The final act, however, feels somewhat rushed. The threads throughout the film start converging and wrapping up fairly quickly. Before you know it, the credits are rolling and the film is over.

Despite this, the movie stays consistently enjoyable to watch from start to finish. It utterly traps your attention with witty dialogue and absurd situations that keep you engaged for its entire runtime. 

With a soundtrack featuring, and cameo appearance by bitchin’ Canadian punk band PUP, a fun fast paced plot, frenetic editing and charmingly shady characters, the film creates an identity that is incredibly funny and certainly “dirtbag” in all of the best ways possible.

Relax, I’m from the Future will be available for on demand streaming in early November, so be sure to check it out!

8/10, would run as far away as I could if Casper were to ask for help after eating out of a dumpster in front of me.

Review: Women contend with religious social control in Water and Women Talking

Water and Women Talking explore how the individualization of faith threatens patriarchal norms 

By: Rochelle Raveendran

Scenes from Water and Women Talking. (Image courtesy of ZekeFilm)

This article contains discussions of sexual assault, rape and organized religion.

Faith is the supreme, paradoxical act of human imagination. On the fated intersections of gender, location, era and experience, faith saves from despair and leads to despair. Water (2005), directed by Deepa Mehta, and Women Talking (2022), directed by Sarah Polley, both explore how these diverging paths are not mutually exclusive.

Organized religion is represented as a vessel for violent social control in both films, reliant on conformity and fear of the unknown. Female characters reconcile their traumatic reality with their beliefs as they attempt to take back their lives — not away from God, but from a patriarchy that anoints itself with God’s authority. In Women Talking, theological conversations help the characters reach an understanding of the collective good, whereas religion must be contradicted by conscience in Water in pursuit of what is right. Neither film denounces religion, yet they demonstrate how faith in oneself enriches morality both within and beyond the constraints of organized faith systems.

Based on a novel by Miriam Towes, Women Talking follows women in a Mennonite colony who have discovered that the men have been drugging them with horse tranquillizers and assaulting them in their sleep. Two girls spot a rapist running away in the night, proving these terrorizing attacks were not the work of demons, as the men claimed. With several of the men arrested and the rest away in town to post bail, the women have two days to decide on their course of action: stay and do nothing, stay and fight, or leave before the men return. Much of the intergenerational conversation takes place in a barn, with narration by Autje (Kate Hallett), the youngest child present.

Polley’s script creates nuanced, lively characters, carefully incorporating dynamics between them to emphasize the pain and strength of their community. The actors tackle blocks and barbs of dialogue with equal naturalism, making the heightened reality of the extended conversation accessible.

Occasional moments of humour — bursts of laughter to prevent tears — add to the conversational realism as the women grapple with the implications of their decision on their future and that of the next generation. The characters express their trauma in realistic shades, from the serene Ona (Rooney Mara) to the gently witty Greta (Sheila McCarthy) and righteously furious Salome (Claire Foy), who wields a scythe in one of the opening scenes to attack the man who raped her four-year-old daughter.

Religion is the framework for their discussion. Fighting may be at odds with the women’s vows of pacifism, but staying would also be a violation if it may eventually lead to violence. Leaving has its own implications, requiring them to lie, which could also deprive them of salvation. Salome responds to this theory with an exceptional monologue that sucks the air out of the barn, challenging God to kill her if she has sinned by protecting her child.

As they discuss their shared and individual traumas, the women quote Bible passages and sing hymns to soothe one another. “They made us disbelieve ourselves,” says Mejal (Michelle McLeod), who has been experiencing panic attacks and began smoking after her assaults. But the men cannot take their religion from them. Avenues of thought are posited, considered and countered, often sharply, as practical questions bring out philosophical discussions. While Salome says she will become a murderer if she stays, Ona, who is heavily pregnant from rape, says that with time and distance, she could imagine forgiving the men. She suggests that, to some level, the men and boys are victims themselves of a reprehensible mentality perpetuated in the colony. This is not mentioned to exonerate the men, but is part of a larger discussion about what will happen to the women’s sons, depending on their decision.

In a film built on dialogue, Polley deploys her silences with much intention, from horrific flashes to longer sequences that confront the aftermath of abuse. “The silence was the horror,” Autje narrates, a deeply unsettling concept reflected in Water’s ambiguous conclusion.

While both films are fictional, Women Talking is based on a horrific string of sexual assaults in a Bolivian Mennonite colony. Water similarly imagines a fictional reality based on real experiences. Set in India in 1938, the film opens with the death of an eight-year-old child bride’s husband. After becoming a widow, Chuiya is sent by her father to live out the rest of her days in a decrepit, impoverished ashram in Varanasi for Hindu widows, in accordance with custom. To avoid becoming economic and emotional burdens to their families, widows are ostracised in these secluded shelters as bad omens, to the point that accidentally touching one is cause for a bath. 

Played by the bubbly Sarala Kariyawasam, Chuiya is our way into a suffocatingly oppressive world, where women live sequestered from the rest of society with shaved heads and shrouded in white cloths. While Autje’s narration retells events, Chuiya is on the ground and has no qualms about questioning oppressive rules as she encounters them. A toothless, senile woman dreams of the deep-fried sweets from her wedding feast that widows are no longer allowed to eat, repeating the list like a prayer — plump white rasgullas, piping hot gulab jamun, yellow ladoos made of pure butter.

Regardless of rules, Chuyia steals a ladoo and sneaks it into the ashram for her. As the widow cradles the sweet in her hand, we see a startlingly affecting flashback of her wedding ceremony. She, too, was a child when she married, adorned in a red and gold sari and being fed a ladoo as she sat alongside her adult husband. The rich colours of the widow’s memory stand out from the cool tones that dominate the film, adding lush surrealism to her treasured promises of the past. 

Polley also plays with surrealism to depict an external world of opportunity when a census taker arrives at the colony, blasting Daydream Believer by The Monkees from his car. The song is a disorienting shock amidst Hildur Guðnadóttir’s moving, classical score, but a needed reminder about the sheltered existence these women live. The stakes of their ultimate decision are raised a notch higher by the total unfamiliarity they would expose themselves to by leaving. While Women Talking depicts a surreally unknown future, Water washes the past with dreamy nostalgia.

There is little sense of community within Water’s ashram, largely due to its fierce leader, Madhumati (Manorami). She forces the beautiful and miserable young widow Kalyani (Lisa Ray) into prostituion, ferrying her across the sacred Ganges river every night to upper-class clients. Kalyani dares to hope for escape after falling in love with Narayan (John Abraham), a rich, idealistic university student and admirer of Gandhi who soon proposes marriage. Though Chuiya and Kalyani befriend each other, Chuiya’s relationship with Shakuntala (Seema Biswas) is the thematic crux of the film.

A middle-aged widow, Shakuntala, is plagued with bitter doubts about a doctrine she follows but cannot truly believe. She urges Chuiya to forget her past life but cannot bring herself to total resignation about her own fate, even questioning a pandit – a Hindu scholar – on what exactly Hindu scriptures say about the treatment of widows. Biswas subtly flits between anger and pain, transforming the briefest of pauses into moments of suffocating contemplation. Her performance is delicate and dignified as Shakuntala pushes herself to the point of trusting her conscience over the dictates of her religion without the support of anyone around her. Women talk in Water, but real dialogue is sparse. Still, Shakuntala emerges with rich interiority because we do not need words to see her self-empowerment; under Mehta’s direction, her inner conflict and resolution play clearly over her face.

“The details of this new world may be withheld from us, but Polley makes it clear the women’s hopes have been realized.”

Life and death coexist in the Ganges. Bathing in the river cleanses Hindus of their sins, and cremated ashes are submerged in its waters to free the deceased from the cycle of rebirth. Kalyani embodies this continuum when she drowns herself in the Ganges, after learning her fiancé Narayan’s father is one of her clients. Her dream of transcending the confines of religion has been proven futile, yet she cannot bring herself to return to Madhumati. Chuiya takes Kalyani’s place on the ferry, trafficked across the Ganges to upper-class clients, upon Madhumati’s direction. Shakuntala is too late to save the child, who returns in an almost catatonic state. Chuiya’s silence for the rest of the film is made more sickening by her irrepressible vivacity as she railed against the ashram’s confines.

In a shared cinematic universe, what would Ona say about Madhumati? With time and distance, could Madhumati be understood as a victim in her own right, as Ona suggests about the colony’s men? The perpetrators remain almost entirely offscreen in Women Talking, but Madhumati is an overpowering, abrasive force with only love to spare for her pet parrot.

Water wisely recognizes how women can be complicit in their own oppression; Madhumati claims every penny the widows make goes towards paying the rent, though she saves enough to purchase cannabis for herself. Prostituting Kalyani is necessary for survival, she says, “and how we survive here, no one can question, not even God!” This line is delivered with pure villainy, a missed opportunity for even a hint of genuine panic at what losing income from Kalyani could mean for the ashram. As there is no Ona equivalent in Water to suggest how Madhumati is a consequence of a society that pushes widows to its fringes and leaves them to fend for themselves, she is too one-note to be received with even the slightest nuance.

Though we do not see the effect of time on Chuyia, Shakuntala blesses her with distance in Water’s final scenes. She cradles the child as they listen to a fictional Mahatma Gandhi speak at a Varanasi train station. He looms over the film, with characters mentioning his progressive opinions on the lower castes and widows, but this is his first appearance. After Gandhi’s poignant speech ends, he and his followers board the train, including Narayan, now disillusioned with his family and grieving his fianceé. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, Shakuntala scrambles through the crowd and lifts Chuyia onto the train, into Narayan’s arms. Chuyia is as unaware of what is happening as she was when she first arrived at the ashram, but Shakuntala is stoic in the righteousness of her decision after the train pulls away. Gandhi may symbolize hope, but Chuyia becomes the fragile, progressive future. Mehta wisely eschews a broadly optimistic ending, leaving Shakuntala’s fate ambiguous, and avoiding any mass awakening of the widows to their persecution. Despite government intervention, mistreatment of widows persists in India today, making this conclusion a prescient commentary on how progressive change cannot be spurred overnight, or in this case, after 84 years.

Women Talking will only be released in cinemas this December, so I will not spoil its ending here. Compared to Shakuntala’s spontaneity in Water, however, the women exhaust all possibilities before reaching their decision, which is still not universally accepted within the colony.

We only see the briefest glimpse of the women’s future, which is actually the present day. Autje’s past-tense narration, combined with the desaturated colour grading, turns the film into a historic artefact. Though the art direction feels oddly artificial, similar to a history documentary re-enactment, Women Talking is presented with the understanding that the women who we are watching on the verge of creating a new world have already created one. The details of this new world may be withheld from us, but Polley makes it clear the women’s hopes have been realized.

“For a long time, I believed that God is Truth,” Gandhi says in the closing scenes of Water. “But today I know that Truth is God.” Rather than looking to an unknowable supreme being and working backwards, he encourages individuals to search for God in the world. It is the call to action that leads Shakuntala to culminate all her doubts. After finding truth in their theology beyond what they’ve been told, the characters in Women Talking take their own climactic action. Trusting your own eyes is more than simply a pithy message; in societies that rely on women doing the opposite, it is fundamental for survival. The future is ambiguous and hope may not be guaranteed, but religion is proven malleable in Water and Women Talking, for worse and for better.

Review: Turning Red

Pixar’s first Canadian animated film set in Toronto!

By: Mariana Schuetze

Turning Red’s title card.

Pixar’s newest animated film might be one of its best yet. Directed by Canadian filmmaker Domee Shi, Turning Red brings its viewers into an animated version of Toronto and into the life of an Asian Canadian teen, Mei Lee, living in the city. 

Turning Red is the coming-of-age story of Mei, a humourous, captivating, and fun 13-year-old girl. From the beginning of the movie, she is incredibly confident and even says things like: “I wear what I want and say what I want,” as she narrates her day-to-day life while getting on the TTC.

At its core, this movie is about growing up and learning to embrace yourself, which Mei goes through as she has to face her “magical puberty,” which turns her into a red panda whenever she gets too emotional. While being a giant panda sounds like a lot of fun, it certainly brings some turbulence into Mei’s life as she has to learn how to manage her relationship with her mom and friends — all while growing up. 

The film is also the first time Toronto has been animated in a Disney/Pixar motion picture, the first Pixar film to be solely directed by a woman, and only the second to have an Asian lead (after Up, 2009) out of the studio’s now 25 feature films. 

Shi pitched this film to Pixar in 2017 after making the Academy Award winning short film, Bao. Soon, the film was in production, eventually being released on March 11 exclusively on Disney+. 

Besides the movie being directed by a Canadian, its main cast of voice actors is also made up of a bunch of Canadians! Canadian Emmy Award nominee Sandra Oh lends her voice to Mei’s mother, Ming Lee. Mississauga, Ont.-born actress Maitreyi Ramakrishnan, best known for her role in Never Have I Ever, plays one of Mei's best friends, Priya Mangal. Hyein Park, Korean Canadian story artist at Pixar, voices another one of Mei's best friends, Abby Park. Another of Mei's best friends is Miriam, played by American actress Ava Morse. And finally, 13-year-old Asian American Rosalie Chiang is the star of the film, playing the lead role — for the first time in her career — of Meilin "Mei" Lee. 

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Turning Red is set in the early 2000s in Toronto, and it ends up being really nostalgic. Not only in the fashion of the characters and their use of Tamagotchis, but also in Mei and her friends’ obsession with an adorable boy band. For this film, Shi and producer Lindsey Collins reached out to artists Billie Eilish and FINNEAS to help them work out the music for the band. Together, they created the songs  4*Town sings in the movie, and FINNEAS also lends his voice to one of its members. 

It is honestly so fun to see Toronto portrayed like this in an animated movie. When were you expecting to see the CN Tower in all its glory in the background of a cute Pixar film? I certainly wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon. 

To make Turning Red, Shi was inspired by her own experiences growing up in Toronto in a Chinese Canadian family. Specifically for Shi, this movie is about her own relationship with her mother. In an interview with Vanity Fair, the director talked about how much of what Ming does in the film and her relationship with her daughter Mei came from her own life. “Yes. My mom definitely did follow me on my first day of middle school,” she told Vanity Fair when asked about which “crazy moments” in the film were based in real life. 

Besides looking at her own life in Toronto to create the plot of this movie, Shi was also inspired by her admiration of anime to develop the animation style of Turning Red. Because of that, Shi was faced with translating a 2D-style animation into a 3D one. In an interview with IndieWire, Shi talked about her challenges on the animation front. “We were never going to replicate 2D exactly in 3D,” said Shi. “But how do we use these powerful tools that we have today to stylize the look of the movie in 3D space?" she added. 

To achieve the final looks of Turning Red, Shi and her all-women-led team of producers, cinematographers and animators studied the language of anime and worked out how they could bring that to a Pixar film. In the end, the movie turned out to be quite colourful and highly detailed, which clearly reflects their inspiration for anime and certainly makes the film even more enjoyable to watch. 

I really enjoyed how women-centred this film is and how it highlights all the meaningful female relationships in Mei’s life. Mei is a strong, confident and brave young woman who not only relies on but is supported by a bunch of equally impressive women in her life, such as her mom and her friends. The way Turning Red explores those relationships and what they mean to Mei (and consequently, to any young woman watching) by making them the centre of the story, is incredibly refreshing to see on screen. Especially when we are used to seeing so many stories with barely any women in focus. 

And what makes Turning Red even more groundbreaking and inspiring is that it is a Pixar film with a 13-year-old Asian girl as a protagonist. How often do we get to see assertive young Asian women like this on screen? It certainly made me feel like I could do anything. 

With Mei, Turning Red takes us right into middle school and, consequently, talks about all the end-of-the-world problems that come with being a 13-year-old. She experiences that feeling of embarrassment and hopelessness you have when you are younger and thinks that every single little thing is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. Like many of us, Mei goes through changes in her body and life. Her parents, like Shi’s and probably yours too, don’t understand that she’s growing up and has different hobbies, tastes and ideas. In the film, Mei goes through all of that, of course, in her own way. Turning Red becomes incredibly relatable by being highly personal in narrating these experiences.

This is what director Domee Shi wanted to accomplish with this film. “Turning Red’ was inspired by this universal struggle of growing up and figuring out how to handle honouring your parents and staying true to yourself. And, for Mei Lee, the red panda is that magical spark that sets off this internal conflict within herself,” she told IndieWire.

As a 21-year-old Latin-American woman, watching Turning Red and following the story of this incredibly relatable 13-year-old Asian Canadian girl was a fantastic experience. I come out of this film feeling stronger and unstoppable, and I believe many of you might feel the same way after watching this. 

In telling the particular story of a 13-year-old Asian girl who can turn into a giant red panda, Turning Red makes us laugh, cry, smile, sing, think way too hard about our lives, and feel better about ourselves. Like many of us, Mei believes she has her life figured out, but what she finds out throughout the film and what we learn in life is that she does not. Yet, she embraces her mess and becomes a better version of herself — a lesson hopefully we can all learn from watching Turning Red.

Rating: 5/5 Stars

Retro review: Enemy — When your worst nightmare looks like you

The epitome of suspense with a Canadian touch

By: Atiya Malik

Toronto’s skyline in Enemy

The use of spiders in a mystery or thriller film isn’t new, but in Enemy, renowned director Denis Villeneuve leaves his viewers disoriented long after they’ve seen the film. 

Denis Villeneuve is a French Canadian filmmaker who’s best known for directing Dune, one of the most anticipated films of 2021. He has also directed successful science-fiction films such as Blade Runner 2049 (2017) and Arrival (2016). Villeneuve is a four-time recipient of the Canadian Screen Award for Achievement in Direction, including a win in 2014 for his spine-chilling film Enemy. 

Based on the novel The Double by José Saramago, this film begins with the line “Chaos is order yet undeciphered,” which couldn’t be a more straightforward way to foreshadow the film’s confusing and head-scratching nature. Notably, one of the first scenes displays a woman stepping on a spider with a black heel. This is the first time the audience sees a spider and it becomes evident that this insect will hold symbolic significance throughout the film.

Adam Bell (Jake Gyllenhaal) is a history professor who feels trapped in his repetitive and meaningless lifestyle and decides to watch a movie one night to cheer himself up. In the movie, he notices an actor in the background that looks freakishly familiar. Anthony Claire, the actor in the film, doesn’t just resemble Adam in the way that siblings often do. This man is the exact same person physically, down to every scar, hair and even the sound of his voice. The film continues as both men become obsessed with the other and delve into each other’s affairs — but at what cost?

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The cast of Enemy was hand-picked by Villeneuve himself. In an interview with Curzon, he explains how he needed a skilled actor to play the characters of Adam and Anthony because the plot would simply not be believable without the right actor. 

“It’s not about special effects, it’s about acting,” said Villeneuve.

Award-winning actor Jake Gyllenhaal plays Adam and Anthony, two incredibly complicated characters. Gyllenhaal has been in several blockbuster movies, including Spider-Man: Far from Home (2019), The Nightcrawler (2014) and Source Code (2011). In Enemy, Gyllenhaal’s riveting use of facial expressions fully engrosses viewers: the genuine fear, shock and disturbance that he can convey with just his expressions tell a story within itself.

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Mary, Adam's girlfriend, is played by Mélanie Laurent, a well-known French actress, filmmaker and singer. She is best known for her role as Alma in the film Now You See Me (2013). Sarah Gadon, a Canadian actress best known for her work in Dracula Untold (2014), plays Anthony's wife.

The film production does an impeccable job of capturing shots of Toronto from several angles and perspectives that make the city feel lonely and confined, while also displaying iconic shots of Toronto and Mississauga, Ont. city skylines. Residents living in the area might even be able to recognize well-known street names such as Adelaide or Rathburn. 

Toronto’s cityscape captured in Enemy.

Mississauga’s iconic Marilyn Monroe towers pictured in Enemy.

In an interview with VODzilla, Villeneuve talked about carefully selecting Toronto as the film location. “The city had that kind of personality, the paranoid, oppressive feeling and I was looking for that landscape, something with pressure,” he said.

The energy in New York or Chicago is similar to what Villeneuve was seeking. However, he wanted to film in a city that hadn’t been as well-loved by the camera, and what better place than one close to home?

The cinematography in Enemy truly carries the movie. The plot is predominantly told through visuals as the first half of the film has minimal use of voice and conversations. This inevitably forces the viewer to focus on every piece of visual information, including brightness. 

Enemy is a film that is very dark… literally. It’s as if while editing, someone discovered the saturation button and turned it all the way down. This is a strategic choice because the lack of colour itself expresses unsettling feelings of suspense and mystery. The world should not be this grayscale.

The film was also heavily dependent on the use of music, and it did not disappoint. The music selection is eerie and disturbing, making it more likely for the viewer to feel uneasy.

The use of spiders in Enemy was somewhat of a weak point. It was obvious that there was a deeper meaning behind their seemingly random appearances, which was intriguing. However, it’s very unclear as to what that meaning is because it’s left open for interpretation.

One compelling explanation is that the spiders symbolize a fear of commitment because Anthony and Adam both feel trapped and disconnected in their romantic relationships. In a scene with Anthony, his pregnant wife asks him if he’s “seeing her again,” implying that he has been unfaithful in the past. In a scene with Adam and his mom, she accuses him of having trouble with sticking to one woman. The spiders could represent Anthony and Adam’s unfaithful natures and display how it increasingly consumes their lives… right up until the film’s final shot.   

With a run time of 90 minutes, Enemy is a film that holds your attention sporadically. The film, adapted from the novel The Double, has a truly complex and nail-biting plot that you won’t find anywhere else. Are Anthony and Adam long-lost brothers, clones, a figment of one’s imagination or all the above? These unanswered questions serve as both the film’s strength and weakness, leaving you with thoughts that linger on for far longer than expected. However, its execution could have been clearer, particularly regarding those spiders.

The viewer is left wanting more while staring at a black screen wondering, “What on earth did I just watch?”

Rating: 3/5 stars

Review: Dune - Directed with Canadian spice

Canada’s own Denis Villeneuve attacks the legendary source material with his signature intellectual grandiosity

By: Thomas Publow

Logo for Dune

Denis Villeneuve is a filmmaker that Canada holds dear. The French Canadian director is a four-time recipient of the Canadian Screen Award and has taken his talents all the way to an Academy Award nomination. His career is marked by dips into the realm of science fiction, and with films like Arrival (2016) and Blade Runner 2049 (2017), he has established himself as an accomplished lover of highbrow storytelling juxtaposed with accessible action. It is this exact juxtaposition that makes his take on Frank Herbert’s seminal sci-fi novel, Dune, stand out amongst this year’s crop of blockbusters.

Dune was one of this year’s most anticipated films, especially following the pandemic delays of 2020 that pushed the film’s release back by an entire year. Amidst these changes in release time came some controversial changes in the film’s distribution. In late 2020, Warner Bros. announced they would be releasing the entirety of their 2021 slate of blockbusters (17 films in total) not only in theatres, but also on the streaming service HBO Max. Films such as Wonder Woman 1984, The Matrix 4 and, yes, Dune were included in this “shocking” release strategy, one that Villeneuve is adamantly against.

In an article Villeneuve penned for Variety, he accused Warner Bros. of no longer being a team player, saying “there is absolutely no love for cinema, nor the audience here.” He noted that streaming services are positive additions to the entertainment industry, but they “alone can’t sustain the film industry as we knew it before COVID-19.” Villeneuve said he believes the future of cinema is no different than its past and that movie theatres will always be vital to enjoying film because human beings need the communal nature they bring.

Dune “is by far the best movie I’ve ever made,” wrote Villeneuve. “My team and I devoted more than three years of our lives to make it a unique big screen experience. Our movie’s image and sound were meticulously designed to be seen in theatres.”

The film is one to experience on the biggest screen possible. Its scope is far too large to be enjoyed properly from home, and Hans Zimmer’s score is a soon-to-be classic piece of cinema music that must be heard at the volume that a movie theatre permits. It sounds like nothing before it, and I truly see it going down in the history books alongside the likes of Star Wars and The Lord of the Rings. It is also a film that would be best enjoyed, especially if you have not previously read the novel, knowing as little as possible beforehand, so this review will be spoiler-free.

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The cast of “Dune” at the 78th Venice International Film Festival on Friday, Sept. 3, 2021 in Venice, Italy. (Daniele Venturelli/WireImage)

Dune comes equipped with a star-studded cast including Timothée Chalamet, Rebecca Ferguson, Oscar Isaac, Zendaya, and many more. It follows Chalamet as Paul Atreides, son of Duke Leto Atreides (Isaac) and Lady Jessica (Ferguson), as they take the rule of the planet Arrakis. Arrakis is a desert planet, and the only source of “spice,” a substance that boosts human health and is essential for interstellar travel. Throughout the film, Paul is coming into his own, largely due to the psychic training of his mother, and is having visions of a girl from Arrakis named Chani (Zendaya) that give way to his potential true identity.

Ferguson’s performance gives the film humanity. Lady Jessica is both a loving mother and a woman with power possessed by very few. Ferguson perfectly balances these two facets of her character, often in one scene. This is not to detract from the performances of the rest of the cast, however, as the entire ensemble demonstrates the immense complexities of their unique characters. 

The production design functions like another character in the film. Perhaps nowhere better can the scope of the film be understood than through its creation of whole other planets that simultaneously feel completely familiar and also like nothing the world has seen before. The sets are grand while also being muted, uniquely shaped while also seeming in place. Some weapons feel like ancient artifacts while others feel like they are from a distant future. The old technology seamlessly mixes with the new technology, seeming like they simply function in tandem. It is the sandworms, however, that are the true production accomplishment. They were terrifying yet did not at all look out of place. From the way they moved through the sand, to the way they created vortexes to consume what walked over them, they further elevate the film to masterpiece territory.

Greig Fraser’s cinematography is brilliant. It felt almost jarringly bland at first; there was a lack of vibrancy that is usually expected in blockbuster films like this. It becomes more and more apparent, however, that this was an intentional form of subversion. The desert looked exactly like that, a desert. From the way the interior scenes were lit, to the instances of a sandy blur blocking the audience’s vision of the events on screen; everything was muted in a way that helped ground this fantastical world in reality.

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Alongside Jon Spaihts and Eric Roth, Villeneuve helped craft the screenplay. It is filled with detailed exposition and Villeneuve only succeeds in crafting another world so successfully due to this. The screenplay and direction alike function through the balancing of some of 2021’s most intimate, almost mundane scenes coupled with some of the year’s most spectacular. One could not work without the other, as they each play into giving everything the audience experiences meaning and justification. It is Villeneuve’s perfect tethering act of an intellectual spectacle that serves as his greatest success across his filmography, Dune being no exception.

The film is a vital addition to his catalogue, a passion project he has been yearning to craft since he was 13. In an interview with The Atlantic, Villeneuve stated that he kept the book beside him while filming. He said that he “made this movie for himself” and that everything that the audience experiences is there because he loves it. Watching this movie, the level of effort put into every second seen on screen is a demonstration of a man’s love for a seminal piece of fiction in his life, something vital in the creation of a classic.

Herbert’s novel is notoriously dense, and the film benefits greatly from not compromising this for the sake of accessibility. With a nearly 156-minute runtime, it is for the best that the film is left on a cliffhanger. With conflicts explored to great measure, it deserves a second part that brings these conflicts to rest, making 2023’s Dune Part 2 an anticipation hotbed like its predecessor. Villeneuve’s passion that has been brewing since early adolescence coupled with the film’s staggering reported $165 million budget lifted a novel that Hollywood feared adapting into one of the year’s best. In the words of Chani, “this is only the beginning.”

Retro review: Black Christmas

The Canadian cult-classic horror film that defined a genre

By: Federico S. Gutierrez

Still image from Black Christmas

Don’t let the title mislead you, Black Christmas is not a merry movie. Quite the contrary. Here’s the disturbing tale of a psychotic killer hiding in the attic of a sorority house, tormenting the lives of the young women living there. It’s not ironic, then, that Black Christmas is the perfect movie to watch during the Halloween season. With a hefty balance of shock and drama, this small independent horror movie is a landmark of Canadian cinema, defining a genre that would go on to scare every generation to come.

Released in 1974, Black Christmas was welcomed with unfavourable reviews from critics, yet this small-budget Canadian production would go on to inspire countless horror classics such as Halloween and Friday the 13th, earning a place in the history of cinema as the movie that jump-started the slasher genre that dominated the film landscape of the 1980s. Ironically, though, Black Christmas received its Canadian premiere in October 1974, whilst being held back until December in the United States in hopes that its title would take audiences by surprise.

Still image of a scene from Black Christmas filmed on the University of Toronto campus

The only connection this movie offers to Christmas is the season in which the story takes place, adding an extra layer of false security to an already chilling atmosphere. Set in the middle of a snowy winter around the campus of the University of Toronto, the movie starts from the point of view of the stalker assessing the sorority house where his future victims live. The figure climbs up the side of the house and enters through the attic, where he stops to listen to the women’s conversation. The phone rings, and insults blurt out at the woman who answers it: “kill the baby” the voice says, raising the woman’s — and the audience’s — fight or flight instincts. In just the opening scene, Black Christmas astutely sets up a strange mood of discomfort for both the audience and the characters. The protagonist is Jess, a quiet yet clever young woman struggling to accept and disclose her own pregnancy to her selfish, quick-to-anger boyfriend Peter.  

Any horror movie can only be as good as its cast. Black Christmas boasts of an interesting cast of actors that, even though their names may not be remembered, their faces have been immortalized in other classics. Olivia Hussey plays Jess with the same purity and grace that she used to play Juliet in the 1968 adaptation of Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet, which most consider to be the seminal translation of the play to the screen. Legend says that Hussey agreed to appear in this movie only after a psychic told her that “she would star in a Canadian movie that will make a lot of money.” Jess’ enigmatic boyfriend Peter is played by Keir Dullea, who appeared as the lonely astronaut David Bowman in Stanley Kubrick's masterpiece 2001: A Space Odyssey. Both Hussey and Dullea lend the movie very subdued performances that amplify the quiet psychological issues each of their characters are experiencing without having to explain themselves to the audience.

Still image of Olivia Hussey in Black Christmas

The most special element of Black Christmas is how it manages to shock you through implied violence. The levels of gore are very minimal, nevertheless, the deaths feel painful and riveting thanks to its use of editing. Some death scenes intercut between images of the killer’s point-of-view and a knife getting to its victim. The effect, indeed, is not to make you jump out of your seat, instead it successfully manages to put you into the mindset of the characters to emulate the confusion and paranoia they are experiencing. Contrast this to the mainstream array of so-called horror movies, such as the latest Halloween Kills, that attempt to horrify an audience with lots of blood splashing on the screen, but only succeed in overshadowing their characters. 

As it would occur, Olivia Hussey’s psychic wasn’t at all mistaken. Although Black Christmas opened up to disappointing reviews, the movie grossed an outstanding $4.1 million on a budget of merely $620,000, thus making it one of the most successful Canadian movies of all time. With time Black Christmas has gathered a devout cult following that continues to praise its innovative shock techniques and profound characters, a balance very rare to find even in modern movies.

Trouble in the Garden: Indigenous Indie film brings attention to Sixties Scoop

By Bree Duwyn

A dancing scene from Trouble in the Garden (Courtesy of @troubleinthegardenthefilm on Instagram).

Award winning writer and director Roz Owen tackles important Indigenous issues in her latest film, Trouble in the Garden.

The film opened theatrically in Toronto at Imagine Cinemas Carlton Cinema and in Calgary at the Plaza Theatre throughout the week of Feb. 15 to 21. The film is also set to screen in Regina at the Rainbow Cinema Golden Mile from March 1 to 7. As well as at the Magic Lantern Roxy Theatre in Saskatoon from March 8 to 14.

Bailed out of jail and taken in by a brother she has not seen in years, Trouble in the Garden tells a story of an Indigenous protester, Raven, and her adoptive family who battle with betrayal and heartbreak.

The film is a fascinating journey that depicts a storyline that many Indigenous people faced as victims of The Sixties Scoop, a practice that took place from the late 1950s through the 1980s in which Indigenous children were taken away from their homes and placed into foster homes or put up for adoption. However, to this day there are still children being removed from their homes and put into foster care using the legal system.

Trouble in the Garden also tackles Indigenous treaty and land issues, as Raven fights for the rights of Indigenous people and their rights to land.

Owen’s inspiration in creating Trouble in the Garden comes from her sister-in-law, a Sixties Scoop survivor. She wanted to bring awareness to a topic not so often discussed.

Owen hopes to “flip people's thinking” and finds it important to use her film to bring awareness to the history of Canada’s dark past when it comes to the treatment of Indigenous peoples, she said. She also hopes that Scoop survivors who watch Trouble in the Garden will feel authenticity in the story.

To ensure she would tell the story with the most accuracy, Owen called Raven Sinclair who is Nehiyaw (Cree) from Treaty 4 located in southern Saskatchewan, a professor of social work — as well a Sixties Scoop survivor and activist.

Sinclair, who is also a filmmaker, values her work on issues of Indigenous child welfare, adoption and historical trauma and recovery.

Owen and Sinclair collaborated extensively to tell a genuine story that is raw, crucial and something that people need to talk about.

“I want people to see it and understand that everybody has a story and this story isn’t just the story of a survivor. There are themes that we need to understand to know a bit more about what our population has gone through,” said Sinclair in an interview with What She Said.

In order to nail down the dialogue in Trouble in the Garden, Owen also consulted Cara Gee, the Indigenous actress who plays Raven. Gee executes an excellent performance as the protagonist of the film — strong and capable all while being vulnerable and genuine.

Raven (Cara Gee) in a scene from Trouble in the Garden. (Courtesy of troubleinthegardenfilm on Instagram)

Owen said that a film can touch an individual on an intense level of emotion and her goal for Trouble in the Garden was to give that opportunity to the audience.

“Emotionally, I wanted to give people the opportunity to think. You can read so many statistics and get all this information but in the end, it doesn’t touch you. It can upset you but does not shake you up,” said Owen in an interview with CanCulture.

Trouble in the Garden is a heartbreaking yet beautifully crafted story that shines a light on Indigenous issues in Canada, all while maintaining a solid and truthful demonstration of the effects of the Sixties Scoop. It gives the world an opportunity to connect and forges a path towards recognition, reconciliation and respect.

Through Raven’s journey, the film depicts a storyline filled with change, growth and revelation. Raven battles with the lack of support from her adoptive family and the strenuous relationships between them, all while standing up for the rights she believes in as a protester for Indigenous lands.

Raven’s brother, Colin (Jon Car), is a real estate agent, which is problematic to her cause. Colin’s pregnant wife, Alice (Kelly Van der Berg), harbours distaste for Raven and believes she is a bad influence, especially for their young daughter, Gracie (Persephone Koty).

Once Raven is bailed out of jail by Colin, she is brought to their home, an outsider looking in on a picture perfect family, or so thought. Raven has never felt like she belonged to the family and shows moments of intense heartache when she recalls her past. She feels so distant that she pitches a tent in the backyard to escape the world and swim in her own thoughts, rather than breach the animosity and tense atmosphere within the family she never felt at home with.

Owen does an exceptional job of drawing in the audience through the emotions of Raven’s quick-tempered and fierce persona, which is evident right off the bat in the opening scene at a police station. The narrative also shows Raven’s gentleness as she timidly breaks out of her shell with the help of Gracie’s innocence and acceptance (expertly shown in an adorable scene of playing in the dirt within the garden behind the family’s house).

The audience is kept wondering about the slow-burning drama, before it implodes in a chaotic ending when Raven and Colin’s parents show up to stir up more aspects of betrayal and dishonesty, that drives home all the compelling elements of a raw story.

The Indigenous narrative in film is constantly growing and evolving within Canada, especially with the production of the Indigenous Screen Office in 2018, an organization that is assisting Indigenous media makers with the development of their content.

There is an interest in Indigenous stories due to an urgency for them to be told. Canada is in a process of Truth and Reconciliation, and the growth of the Indigenous film scene gives the opportunity to share Indigenous voices and experience.

Video courtesy A71Inc via YouTube

Review: The European Short Film Festival at Carlton Cinema

By Ivonne Flores Kauffman

The European Short Film Festival took place on Jan. 31 at the Imagine Cinemas Carlton Cinema in Downtown Toronto. The festival featured seven short films from six European nations (France, Germany, United Kingdom, Denmark, Czech Republic), each film different from the others.

Mental health, fear, death and hope were some of the central topics of these films. All the material presented at the festival fell into one of two categories: drama or comedy, providing the audience with evoked nostalgia, anger and sadness.

Despite the serious topics addressed in these films, not all of them were well-produced.

Ponožky (Socks) is a Czech dark comedy. Presented at the 2018 Cannes Film Festival and directed by Mike Suchmann, this nine-minute film tells the story of Jidi, a man who is unable to rekindle the flame in his marriage. Sadly, his wife’s love is not the only thing that has vanished from Jidi’s life as the film revolves around his mysteriously disappeared socks, which leads him into having a surreal day.

The short comedy presents an uninterested, bored wife and a poor man whose attempts to recover the love of his life are often ignored. In one of the scenes, Jidi’s wife hosts a dinner party where he realizes she is having an affair with one of the guests. After punching the guest in the face and storming out, Jidi locks himself in the bathroom to masturbate. Soon enough, his wife knocks on the door asking him for the divorce. The last scene shows Jidi ejaculating socks all over his wife.

In my opinion, the film was not only weird but also misogynistic. Its results make it hard to emphasize with a man who does nothing to fix his marriage and would rather spend all day feeling sorry for himself. The last scene of this short film is supposed to be funny, but there was not even a hint of laughter from myself and the rest of the audience. The director’s decision to use socks to simulate Jidi’s ejaculation was confusing and offensive. To me, Suchmann’s comedy was not funny and it made me feel quite uncomfortable from beginning to end.

Ponožky was not the only short film that disappointed.  British project Tea & Coffee failed to deliver a neat production. The film directed by Maaya Modha and Adam Patel has an exciting plot about a young British-Indian woman who struggles to deal with her father’s deteriorating health, all while keeping a secret from him. This bittersweet short film shows the difficulties faced by an interracial marriage and the pain of seeing a loved one battling mental illness. Despite being extremely moving, the quality of the film lacked good shots, the scenes were poorly captured and it almost felt like it was produced by amateur filmmakers.

On the other hand, the short films that captured my attention were produced by the youngest filmmakers featured in the festival. The Boy with the Teddy, a 14-minute German film, follows the story of a kid and his teddy bear as he runs away from his dysfunctional home. After facing strangers’ indifference, the boy meets a young adult who takes care of him. Despite approaching topics such as child abuse and loneliness, this film is extremely heartwarming and full of hope.

A scene from the short film The Boy with the Teddy by Alessandro Schuster. (Photo courtesy of Alessandro Schuster)

Director Alessandro Schuster was only 16 years old when The Boy with the Teddy won the Platinum Award for Best Acting Ensemble and Gold Award for Best Young Filmmaker and Best Child/Young Actor at the 2018 Independent Short Awards (ISA).

In an email interview, Schuster explained that the five-day shooting presented two significant challenges. The first was to coordinate all the members of the cast and production before and during the shooting.

“Luckily it all worked great at the end! After all, everyone worked for ‘no-budget’," said Schuster.

The second challenge while filming The Boy with the Teddy came during post-production. Schuster explained that some of the scenes shot for this film were improvised. “In our film much is told through flashbacks…When editing, it was difficult to place them meaningful and good, without being exaggerated,” added the young director.

According to the Independent Shorts Awards website, Schuster, who is also an actor, is currently working on various TV productions, has produced and directed a couple of music videos and is attending school.

Another young filmmaker who presented his work at the European Short Film Festival was Jakob Hardeberg Svensen. His nine-minute production Games We Play, was shot during a Danish spring day. The film follows three 11-year-old friends’ (Johan, Clara and Felix) first encounter with death.

Behind the scenes of the short film Games We Play. (Photo courtesy of Jakob Svensen)

“[Death] doesn’t have a big significance to them. At a certain age they become more interested and develop a morbid fascination for adult rituals such as funerals,” said Svensen in an email interview about his coming-of-age production.

“For me as a director the film wasn’t necessarily a story about death, but more about the memory of a timeless childhood.”  

Svensen’s inspiration to create this film came from his own childhood memories. The film’s aesthetic is composed of a range of grey and green tones, the outdoor and indoor scenes and the lack of dialogue which all work to transport the viewer to their own childhood memories. Games We Play was the most mentally stimulating film presented at the festival.

The European Short Film Festival, an excellent platform for film enthusiasts to enjoy different productions, was made possible by WILDsound. If you are interested in film festivals, check the WILDsound events website.