Via La Cinémathèque québécoise
Joséphine Savard
Arts and Culture Correspondent
While most cultural institutions in Montréal aim for accessibility by writing their signage in English or in both English and French, the Cinémathèque québécoise uses solely French in their in-house installations. Founded in 1963 by the National Film Board of Canada (NFB), this cultural establishment acts as an archive of international and local cinema, all while remaining an attraction to young cinephiles.
Their mission to highlight Québec’s and Canada’s film culture is felt immediately upon entering: the building is an ode to the visual. Where one exhibit celebrates the colour yellow (in all its blinding canary glory), another contrasts bright red and peacock blue walls to draw eyes to pieces celebrating the history of québécois cinema. Old televisions replay nostalgic short films from McGill University, bringing back to life an era of cinema long forgotten, of experimental pellicule and analog film cameras. On a wall, grayscale movies are projected filled with beautiful actresses and overly dramatic expressions. No space is wasted.
Posters of different purple hues are hung on a lilac wall of the building’s first floor. These posters of the movies Chaperons rouges, La psychiatrie va mourir, C’est pas le pays des merveilles and Les mots/maux du silence all have one thing in common: their director, Helen Doyle. As is cited on the wall label, the Cinémathèque québécoise is celebrating her work as “A feminist and political parcel of the history of film and art in Québec.”
As the most recent recipient of the highest possible distinction of a filmmaker’s contribution to cinema in Québec (the Albert-Tessier award), Doyle attracted locals to the establishment all throughout the end of January and the beginning of February. Sequential screenings of her life’s oeuvre and discussions peppered throughout the showings revealed aspects of what québécois films celebrate: raw humanity, liberty, community, nature, activism, and independence.
One of her most recent works, Au lendemain de l’odyssée, addresses feminist topics in a very slow and pensive documentary style. It explores issues of sex work, freedom of speech, equality of opportunity, and gendered racism. Her minimalistic artistry packs a punch, leaving the spectator to sit with what the movie makes them feel, how real it is, and how scary the depths of society can be when uncovered.
Doyle recounts being in Italy for another completely separate project when learning about the women in her documentary: how they came to European lands on boats, often escaping from Nigeria or Libya, sometimes pregnant, often young, and always scared. These women sought hiding places far from systems of trafficking and prostitution.
The director of photography in attendance, Philippe Lavalette, remembers when Doyle came back to Québec from her trip saying, “Je ne peux pas me taire.”
“I cannot stay silent.”
This quote and the stories Doyle tells encapsulate a lot of what the Cinémathèque québécoise attempts with its installations.
It brings light to stories otherwise lost without archivists to carefully preserve them. It is a place where culture can be shared, where reflections of modern québécoise society arise from lesser-known art, and where film history is intentionally infused into every visitor’s experience.
With a student fee of only 12.00$ per screening, the institution offers a wide array of cinematographic culture ranging from mid-20th century Italian films, to animated children’s movies, to locally produced motion pictures— they truly have it all. On February 27th, novelty will be celebrated with the showing of Les blues du bleuet, a documentary telling tales of the Lac-Saint-Jean region. On March 1st, the year 1929 is brought back to screens with a restoration of Queen Kelly, a dramatic love story filled with plot twists and scandals. On March 12th,Invisibles explores modern femininity through Junna Chif’s lens. Finally, on March 22nd, Sátántangó will run for over 7 hours on the Cinémathèque québécoise’s big screen, a place where film and museum culture intersect year round.



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