TIFF Report: MY WINNIPEG Review

Oh, what a difference a word can make. Hearing of plans to shoot a documentary about Winnipeg - the city known not-so-jokingly throughout the rest of Canada as 'Winterpeg', a city legendary for the swarms of mosquitos that descend upon it throughout the non-snowy months - you would be forgiven if you needed to stifle a yawn. True, Winnipeg actually has a very diverse and frequently very odd history but, really? A documentary about a city? This should be late night filler for the Discovery Channel, not the sort of thing you'd expect to see on the festival circuit. But then there's that one little word in the title. My. This isn't just a story about Winnipeg, this is a story about Canuck auteur Guy Maddin's Winnipeg, his own very personal recollections and impressions of the place he has lived his entire life. It is less a documentary than a memoir, less an exposition than a freewheeling, impressionistic rant that spins through Maddin's own childhood and obsessions with a blend of his trademark black and white cinematography, absurdly hilarious recreations of key events of his childhood with his own mother a willing participant, and odd diversions into quirky facts about his home town, including the fact that it was once home to the world's smallest park - until the lone tree was exploded with dynamite - and that it has a sleepwalking rate ten times that of any other city. Hell, let's be honest: My Winnipeg isn't about Winnipeg at all. This is a film purely about Maddin himself as presented by himself and as such it will be embraced and beloved by Maddin enthusiasts - of which there are several around here - while completely baffling those outside the cult.

Any thoughts that Maddin may have played it straight are discarded immediately, the jerky title cards and highly expressionistic opening set piece serving notice that Maddin has no intention of reining in his trademark sense of style simply because this is supposed to be a documentary. Narrated by the man himself we begin affairs on a train with scenes of the city, childhood, his mother rear projected outside the window while Maddin expounds on the love-hate relationship he has with his home, on why it is that his long held and frequently expressed plans to leave Winnipeg keep failing, some magnetic force drawing him back. Could it be that, as many native traditionalists and other spiritualists believe, that the junction of rivers in Winnipeg exerts a strong, spiritually magnetic hold on residents? Or could it be more simply that he cannot escape the pull of his mother?

This simple question drives the film throughout, Maddin exploring both the odd spiritual angle that pops up throughout the city's history - it has long been held a powerful and important place by spiritualists including Arthur Conan Doyle - and his own family story. The broader history is certainly fascinating, the film loaded with bizarre and absurd anecdotes - the eleven horses frozen into the river while escaping a barn fire and left there in the ice, with their heads exposed, until the spring thaw is one of the most striking things you're likely to ever come across, and the sort of thing nobody would ever believe if you tried to make it up - but it's the personal angle where things really shine. In the name of 'scientifically' understanding what makes him tick - and because he thought it would be fun and could write off the expense - Maddin actually rented out his childhood home and, with the help of his mother, furnished it exactly as it was. Then, with them playing themselves, they hired a trio of young actors to fill the roles of Maddin's siblings in the sixties to play out a number of key events. It's a bizarre concept, flawlessly played out, and it must be said that Maddin's mother - assuming this actually is her and not some elaborate put on - is a fantastic sport about the whole thing, going along with it as her son puts a hysterical spin on things.

Maddin describes My Winnipeg as a docu-fantasy and that is very likely as good a category as any you'll find. It is utterly unique, deeply compelling, by turns thoughtful, challenging, and very, very funny. It captures all the quirks and foibles of Maddin himself and, luckily for us, Maddin is every bit as entertaining as he is talented. Maddin himself will be providing live narration at all public screenings of the film, making this an experience not to be missed.