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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.
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.