trademark? Remember Paperback confused. Throughout, the old house is tion from large screen to small. The Hero?) are carefully contrived and then the one continuing reality and director transition has been uncomfortable, and fully and forcefully exploited. John Wright uses it effectively, ri chly never more than in the hands of the Likely as not though, someone had a visualizing the warmth and atmosphere Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. grea t time developing Only God Knows that the young woman so passionately - Mark Miller from that mysterious idea. There's a wished to experience. (Could Wright hint (just a hint) of a rare and spontan­ have felt the same obsession? What eous spirit which might well have infect­ better way to indulge it than to make a About rape and ed the entire film. But it's easy to get film.) Its imposing presence gives the recen t releases carried away. There are times like that; film a theatrical air; the two young If there are any indicators of the present one joke leads to another and before it's people, in the process of getting to state of our collective consciousness as all over, well ... Perhaps they might know one another and adjusting to the English-Canadians, surely the recent just be better forgotten. But God help strange situation, often work to it in the works of our artists would have to be us if there's a film to be found in every blocked movements of the stage. classified as such. As a firm believer that old joke. In these same ponderous moments, films, whether popular or artful in de­ they pass the time with some fairly sign, are among the most colourful and contrived philosophic conversation valuable expressions of this country's The Visitor about the meaning of life and other culture, I also hold that the creators of such related matters. Thankfully, it's film are no lesser artists than those who So, the Canadian Broadcasting Corpora­ offered (presumably at Wright's prompt­ choose to apply oil paint to canvas, tion has yet to be convinced. All along, ing) with a collective non-committal rather than light to celluloid. the powers-that-be have been reluctant A glance at five recent titles is almost to recognize Canadian films. Now that alarming in its clarity of message. Read they have (at least the summer series, together, The Hard Part Begins, Why Canadian Cinema is a step in the right Rock the Boat?, Only God Knows, direction), it's obvious that they've still Monkeys in the Attic (a tale of explod­ very little respect fo r the film s as ing dreams), and 125 Rooms of Com· anything other than filler between com­ fort cannot fail to conjure up obvious mercials. And equally obvious that this concerns of our collective journey, circa country's film industry may have won a three-quarters of the way through this small battle for Corporation recogni­ century. Comfort was originally entitled tion, but they're still losing the war. The Adventures of Johnny Cannuck, Consider The Visitor. Not that it was and the Canadian content of the mes­ any more thoughtlessly handled than sage is, as a notable criminal once used the others in the se ries, (in that respect, to say, perfectly clear. Especially if ap­ Mon Oncle Antoine suffered much plied to our perplexed feature industry. more) but this was, in effect, the film's Having seen all except the last, the "first-run" showing east of the Rockies. thematic connection one soon discovers It deserved better. is rape - both the mind and body fuck The Visitor is a film of moods, a Eric Peterson in "The Visitor" varieties. John Lynch's Hard Part foists chilling and fascinating study in the upon our consciousness yet another tale psychology of Time, weaving the im­ shrug, as if the questions are just too of a Canadian loser, in the grand tradi­ mediate present and the carefully pre­ weighty to be rewarded with an answer. tion of Gain' Down the Road, but served and beautifully evoked turn-of­ So why worry? Wright even includes a mIssmg Shebib's ballsy ambience. the-century past around a kind of Cana­ short poem by Robert Service, Just Bradley and McGrath are back in well­ dian Victorian romance. As the "visi­ Think: " .. Your life is but a little played supporting roles, but Donnelly tor", Pia Shandel portrays a young beat/Within the heart of Time . .. " A Rhodes' fucked-over country and wes­ history student whose interest in the comfortable and reassuring thought. But tern singer lead is weak compared to past, specifically Calgary of the early as irrelevant and half baked as it may Rip Torn's in Payday. As is Nancy-Belle 1900's, has ceased to be a simple matter seem (and perhaps it's wrong to think of Fuller's country belle in comparison of academics. A growing obsession it in terms of present day cynicism), the with the lady whose voice was dubbed drives her to spend three mid-winter polite conversation does serve to deepen in for her songs. Nevertheless, the critics weeks in an empty old mansion, all in the tension, simply by delaying the all flocked to praise this film with sur­ the name of research. After a restless inevitable. Only as the visitor becomes prising enthusiasm. Cinepix is handling first night's sleep, she awakens into the completely involved in this past society, the distribution, on this low-budget ren­ strange olde world of her daydreams. and feels the coldness of the people who dering of small town Canadian life, also Triggered by the appearance of a mys­ know nothing of her dilemma (and may dealing with how country culture is terious young man (Eric Peterson) who not even exist outside of her imagina­ being replaced by rock culture in most claims to be the master of the house in tion, there's always that unresolved un­ parts. his parent's absence, the romantic rev­ certainty), does the tension find a final John Howe's Why Rock the Boat? is erie begins. And slowly turns into a release. The visitor proves to be less a period comedy set in the forties, but nightmare, full of the psychological than the perfect guest. its explorations of socialism vs. capital­ ambiguities so characteristic of the Unfortunately, the dream world of ism, male vs. female, honesty vs. corrup­ troubled world in which Paul Almond's The Visitor is no match for the harsher tion, and sex vs. love are as contempor­ heroines seem to find themselves. dream world of commercial television. ary in concern as what to do if another Unlike an Almond film though, The Perhaps the National Film Board was depression comes. Its major theme is Visitor remains coherent in its direction, right when it, among others, voiced seduction, a mild form of rape: Stu even as its realities becoIl1e increasingly reservations about the successful transi- Gillard's bumbling cub reporter is being 70 Cinema Canada constantly conned into the service of tor to produce by far the best film in this wedlock by reading the stars, or the the above conflicting philosophies, group. Two couples inhabit a luxurious small-boy hero of Jan Kadar's Lies My notably by Henry Beckman's mean Toronto house and expose all their in- Father Told I\':e, both films delayed in managing editor, Ken James' seasoned photographer, Tiiu Leek's so-so beauti­ ful activist and Patricia Gage's sex­ hungry and lovely wife characters. The latter two manage to seduce Gillard literally as well. High point in the film is our idealistic and naive young anti-hero getting drunk and unwittingly striking a great blow against the corrupt, 'free­ enterprise' world of Montreal news­ papers by breaking through the fears of the men and women in the newsroom and organizing the first union rally. Some of the acting is stereotypical and flat, but Why Rock the Boat? is un­ ashamedly Canadian in setting and a joy to watch throughout. A warm, human comedy that should become a popular movie, it is being distributed by Astral. Peter Pearson's Only God Knows re­ ceived such a vicious review in our Scene from "125 Rooms Of Comfort" 'national newspaper,' that producer Larry Dane, whose original idea gave ner conflicts during the space of a post-production but promised as forth­ birth to the film, may take legal action. single, eventful night. The amount of coming soon. Martin Kinch's Me, Peter It's an innocuous comedy, but deserves control Markson managed to infuse into Bryant's The Supreme Kid , and Murray better treatment than that. If you his script (with John Palmer), his direc­ Markowitz' Recommendation for Mercy haven't yet heard, it's about a priest, a tion of the excellent cast, Henri Fiks' (on the Stephen Truscott rape murder minister, and a rabbi who decide to rob superb colour cinematography, the set case - whew!) will all deal with some the Mafia in order to finance a drop-in design by Tony Hall and Arnaud Maggs, aspects of adolescence, one suspects, if centre for young drug victims of the as well as into the beautifully tight not chronologically, at least in mental very same syndicate. Gordon Pinsent's post-production elements (both the attitudes. As will George Kaczender's priest is life-size and believable, John multi-levelled soundtrack and the very Micro Blues and Graham Parker's Lady Beck's minister is stiff but lovable, and creative visuals), is amazing. Jackie Bur­ of the Meadow, neither as yet in pro­ Paul Hecht's rabbi is a low-key version roughs' Wanda is sensational, and the duction.