Writer and director Paul Schrader gained renown for crafting intense films about morally conflicted men navigating dire and hopeless societies. His last film, Master Gardener followed this template, to a point, before deviating from the usual dark and tragic conclusion. Instead, it offered glimmers of hope and redemption, hinting that the septuagenarian director may be softening his approach.
So I was intrigued at the thought of Schrader following up Master Gardener with Oh, Canada, a sombre character study about a dying man reflecting on his life and legacy. It’s impossible not to see this material as a personal reflection of the director’s life and his contribution to cinema.
Leonard Fife (Richard Gere) lived a remarkable life, and for his legion of admirers, he’s a really big deal. As a young man, he left his home, the United States, for Canada in opposition to the Vietnam draft. Lauded for his conscientious objection, he spent the rest of his life as a public figure living in the Great White North. He leveraged his notoriety into a successful career as a documentary filmmaker, directing numerous acclaimed films.
As the story begins, Leonard is nearing the end of his life journey, his body now overrun with cancer. He spends his final days receiving palliative treatment, with his protective wife Emma (Uma Thurman) at his side. Life gets complicated when a pair of Leonard’s former film students (referred to as Canada’s answer to Ken Burns) arrive, eager to interview him about his life.
Leonard is in no physical state to conduct two days of interviews but wants to go through with the shoot. He sets his mind to sharing his life story, and in the process digging up some long-buried secrets. As Leonard reveals the skeletons in his closet, Emma and the documentary crew must question if he’s an unreliable narrator, or if this great man is not the person they thought they knew.
Oh, Canada takes an unconventional storytelling approach, starting in the present day and jumping between different eras in Leonard’s past. The choppy and circuitous structure makes it difficult for the film to establish a steady rhythm. This approach may mirror the feeling of dredging up long-forgotten memories, but it feels meandering and disjointed.
As the story shifts to the past, Jacob Elordi plays younger Leonard — except sometimes Gere steps in to play the younger version of himself too. The film also alternates between black and white and switches between aspect ratios to depict the vibrancy and subjectivity of Leonard’s memory.
The catch is that Leonard is an unreliable narrator. With his mind clouded by painkillers and the ravages of time, we can’t be sure what’s real or imagined. Are his confessions an attempt to clear his conscience before he dies? Or are they the final words of a man grasping for meaning in a cruel and uncaring world?.
I went into Oh, Canada eager to experience the latest entry in Schrader’s legendary oeuvre. But I left the theatre conflicted. Afterwards, I had to sit down and contemplate why the film elicited such mixed feelings. The film’s at once earnest and hollow.
It’s a fascinating work of artistic expression when viewed in the context of Schrader’s career. The film’s ideas about Leonard’s self-perceptions clashing with how others see him make for a fascinating meditation on legacy. Yet Oh, Canada’s stilted and disjointed execution makes it challenging to watch as the narrative and characters fail to resonate emotionally.
