My Uncle Antoine (1971)
★★ / ★★★★
Uncle Antoine (Jean Duceppe) and Aunt Cecile (Olivette Thibault), an elderly couple without kids of their own, raised orphans Benoit (Jacques Gagnon) and Carmen (Lyne Champagne) in a snowy small town in Quebec. Uncle Antoine and Aunt Cecile made a living with their undertaking business and a general store which proved to be a popular place to hang out around Christmastime. “Mon oncle Antoine,” directed by Claude Jutra, celebrated life and mourned death but the movement from one side of the spectrum to another was only somewhat successful. The comedy sprouted from the ordinariness of daily life. We saw the story through Benoit’s eyes. We followed him as he spied on a beautiful woman (Monique Mercure) as she tried on a new corset, took up new responsibilities around the store, threw snowballs at a horse whose owner (Georges Alexander) felt obligated to give gifts to the poor, and his coming to terms with the growing attraction he had toward Carmen. The laughs weren’t especially big but what mattered was the aforementioned events held importance from Benoit’s childhood. Through Benoit’s experiences, we learned about the close-knit community and the unhappiness simmering just above the surface. However, I found it strange that the relationship between Benoit and his uncle wasn’t at the focus of the picture up until the last thirty minutes. They mostly spent time apart and when they did occupy the same room, they shared no meaningful conversation. When the uncle finally opened up to Benoit while in a drunken state, it felt forced. I wasn’t moved. I was more concerned about the beautiful chilly cinematography and the way the shadows were brilliantly placed on the characters’ faces. That detachment I felt was a signal that the relationship remained between uncle and nephew. There was no transition that highlighted the idea that the story may have very well had been about father and son. What the director did best was placing us in Benoit’s shoes as he experienced intense emotions. When Uncle Antoine took him along to pick up a boy’s dead body, we felt his anxiety in the way he looked at a door that was slightly ajar. It was an ordinary door but the way Benoit looked at it with fear made the door seem like a division between the land of the living, the kitchen where the family members gathered, and the land of the dead, the bedroom where the body waited under the covers. “Mon oncle Antoine” requires great patience. There were, without a doubt, rewarding scenes but the lack of key transitions between relationships left me off-guard in a negative way.