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In today's Montreal, the devil, through discreet manners of seduction, takes liberty upon death. A brave trumpet player in love with a damned soul must fight him.
The Barbarian believes he has only a few erections left before death. Cursed to a life in a thrift shop and haunted by family tragedy, he sets his sights on Marie, an alcoholic special-ed teacher. If he must go, he figures, he might as well go out in good company.
Much of Godin’s purple, declarative dialogue is delivered at a breakneck pace, as though these verbally nimble actors are running lines at auctioneer-speed while simultaneously playing their intentions to the hilt. The film is an exercise in radical compression, its velocity integral to its comic effects, though all the rapid-fire yakking and spastically edited reverse-shot sequences lead to a wordless denouement in which Mésuline searches her pockets for a cigarette in a shot that’s hardly protracted yet still takes up about one-fifth of this taut little film’s runtime. Her pleasure in finally lighting up is fairly adorable.
The blacksmith returns to Montreal with fire and sword. He finds his old shop, now abandoned, and all the memories it holds.
Jazz. Haiti. Plantains.
That winter in Montréal, there is a girl. Three captains are wooing her. Cinema killed Jean-Baptiste Lamirande, the disastrous Liberator, who comes back to life just before Christmas. Héloïse, an amnesiac actress who lost her watch, has been reported missing.