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I saw That Beautiful Somewhere
By Gretchen
Last month my husband and I went to the Cinéfest Sudbury [Ontario]
International Film Festival, where we saw Celine Bonnier’s Délivrez-moi
and Roy Dupuis’ That Beautiful Somewhere.
Pre-Movie
This was my first time at a film festival and first trip to Northern
Ontario, so we arrived the night before. There were some ladies at the
hotel’s breakfast room talking about the film fest, and I interrupted
(politely, of course!) to say that we were there for that event as well,
specifically to see TBS. One woman pointed to another and said she
was looking forward to that film herself. My husband softly murmured that
no matter where we go, we find a Roy Dupuis fan.
There was no reserved seating, and no saving of seats either – it’s
first-come, first-served. People line up waiting for the specific theater
to release the previous movie’s audience. It appeared to me that the
attendees seemed to know each other. Since the festival is in its 18th
year, I suppose there are regulars each season, and those attending the
entire 9-day schedule must run into the same folks day after day. Each
movie plays only once, and generally in one theater.
When we exited the theater following Déliverez-moi, I panicked
because there was a substantial queue already formed. Oh no! Were they
waiting for TBS already? The ticket-taker allayed my fears,
explaining it was the line for Karine Vanasse’s Sans Elle, showing
at 4 PM. He said as soon as they are allowed into that theater (seating no
earlier than 30 minutes in advance), we could line up for TBS.
There wasn’t time to leave between the Celine’s movie and Roy’s, and the
theater complex was not attached to any restaurant, so we grabbed a couple
of concession stand hotdogs to tide ourselves over. Once the seating for
Sans Elle began, hubby and I were second in line for TBS.
The queue grew longer and longer, and we could hear people greet later
arrivals by name. Hubby and I were amazed how often that happened.
As the time drew near, the queue and the theater’s lobby were noticeably
crowded and the ambient noise level rose. When the doors finally opened,
hubby and I quickly claimed two premium seats, centered several rows up
the higher tier. People kept flowing in, and adjoining seats became rare.
Eventually we spotted an older man with fluffy white hair, reminiscent of
Albert Einstein, wandering back and forth, and young lady stood futilely
scanning the crowd for one open seat. Hubby and I were impressed that
Einstein was there, and hoped he would find a seat. Even the wheelchair
area was utilized, and there were people standing along the side where we
entered.
Then we learned the people at the side were connected with the film. A
Cinéfest official introduced the first speaker (sorry, I didn’t catch his
name) who promotes filming in Northern Ontario. He spoke of how rare it is
for a movie to be both filmed in Northern Ontario, and have its story set
in Northern Ontario. He beamed with pride that TBS’s first public showing
was in the very locale where the film had been shot. (Quiltwoman attended
Toronto's industry-only presentation.) This man then introduced the
executive producer who turned out to be ... Einstein! The white-haired man
was A.W. “Bill” Plumstead, author of Loon, the book on which That
Beautiful Somewhere is loosely based. Bill Plumstead described what a
difficult journey it was to go from being a professor (so that explained
the wild hair and the comfortable manner as he addressed the crowd) to
producing a film. He quickly discovered that the most important step in
successfully transforming a book into film is to choose the right
director. Eventually he chose Robert Budreau because he had seen Budreau’s
shorts and they looked good. A giggle ran through the crowd at the double
entendre and, without missing a beat, Plumstead quipped that he had
seen Budreau in shorts, and he did look good. Budreau had never
directed a full-length film, but had several short films to his credit.
His short Dry Whiskey had won the Best Short Film award at the 2005
Cinéfest Sudbury Film Festival.
Robert Budreau then came to the front of the theater, and he looked like a
big high school kid -- young, tall, casually dressed, with a baseball cap
pulled down to his eyes. He, like Bill Plumstead, had lived in Northern
Ontario and had a feel and a love for the area. He acknowledged the
audience, correctly surmising that some of the North Bay locals who had
worked on the film had come to see its public premiere. He remarked that
they might recognize some of the settings, maybe even see themselves as
extras. (Ah ha, that explained why so many people in the line knew
each other! They had worked together and were neighbors who traveled to
Sudbury, excited to see the fruit of their labor.)
The filmfest officials then explained the theater next door was going to
show That Beautiful Somewhere simultaneously, and the film would not start
until they repeated the same presentation to its audience. They told us
that even with two side-by-side theaters fully packed, there were some
real unhappy people outside who couldn’t get a seat. (Thank goodness we
got in line so early!) As we waited, hubby asked if I knew the bigwigs
would be in attendance. It certainly surprised me; I had no expectations,
and no festival experience to draw upon. After a bit, a Cinéfest official
returned asking if there were two open seats so the author and director
could watch the film with us. There were none, so chairs from the hallway
were brought in. A gentleman in the front aisle gave up his padded seat to
Bill Plumstead; he was easy to spot with that shock of white hair. I
didn’t see where Budreau ended up.
The Film Itself
I think the storyline has been previously revealed: Roy Dupuis is a
police detective haunted by his time as a pilot over Bosnia and whose
mother is in a coma. Jane McGregor is a young archeologist specializing in
bog bodies and is hiding a rare medical condition. They must work together
to learn the identity of a body unearthed in a Native American bog in
Northern Ontario.
The film opens with a big closeup of Roy. The audience didn’t give a big
gasp of recognition, maybe because the audience was not filled with
Quebecois or RD fans. Roy’s face is so expressive as Conk Adams mentally
replays his service as a pilot in the Balkans. Catherine Nyland is
introduced as an archeology professor in a big lecture hall describing how
careful investigation of bodies preserved in bogs can reveal all sorts of
information on their era, both general and specific to the person. It’s a
lecture and slide-show meant to inform and inspire, and she’s an
enthusiastic expert.
Yet these two people, so very different, are on parallel paths. Their
desperation, even their physical stance in those dark moments when no one
else is around, mirror each other. I was emotionally invested from the
outset. The haunting music (you can hear it on the official website), the
shots of countryside and the roads, so much like the roads which we just
traveled on our drive north the day before, touched me. Had we flown
rather than driven to Sudbury, that part of the film experience would have
passed without resonating.
Conk Adams is a cop with little patience. He was told the bog-body expert
was a man, and doesn’t ingratiate himself to Catherine when he remarks he
was expecting someone with more than just academic experience. Her retort
that she’s probably seen more dead bodies than he has, didn’t even merit a
response from Conk. When her medical condition (something she’s kept
secret) prevents her from coming to the site of the bog-body, he waits a
few hours then orders the crew to extract the body without her there to
supervise. Conk later goes to her motel room where he tactlessly tells her
she looks like shit.
Conk needs to know if the dead man is a suspect he was chasing two years
ago who disappeared. Catherine assures him the body is far older than
that. Conk wants off the case, but she explains that although it may be
old, the dead man shows evidence he was murdered. Unfortunately, the body
was damaged when it was dug up. As Catherine goes about her plying her
expertise, carefully examining the body and describing what it could
reveal, Conk patronizingly asks her how many times has she given that same
lecture.
Catherine has her awkward moments too. She asks him why he’s called Conk,
and he said his mother chose the name. Laughing, she asks why, did someone
conk her on the head at the hospital? He just looks at her silently.
Catherine has no idea that Conk’s mother is in the hospital on life
support, unable to speak or respond. On her bedside table is a photo of
clean-shaven Conk in his air force uniform (the prop photo recently up for
auction with the Rivers Foundation). Conk visits his mother often,
struggling to know what to do. The decision is his alone to make, and he
won’t let himself seek advice or talk it over, instead preferring to
internalize everything.
Conk and Catherine form an uneasy partnership to discover the history of
the bog body. They try to get information from a Native elder who has no
love for the police and closes the door in their face. The bog is
scheduled to be sold to make way for construction, so they have only a
short window to complete their investigation. (Hubby and I saw how much
heavy construction and earth-moving there was in that area as we drove
north, so this was a very credible plot device.)
Slowly the bog body mystery reveals itself, reluctantly peeling off a
layer at a time. As do the shells Conk and Catherine have erected to
protect themselves. Some of it is so hard to watch, so very hard. Each
finds a way to help the other, one unintentionally, one intentionally. As
awareness slowly dawned on me, tears which at the opening sequence filled
my eyes now ran freely down my face. Roy’s acting has a way of squeezing
my heart until it’s entirely wrung out. The movie is described as two
wounded souls who form a bond and risk everything to find healing and
redemption. It is an apt description.
Post-Movie
When the film finished, I had to collect myself. Besides, I always stay to
read the credits. This time, a lot of the audience remained as well. I
could hear comments like “I know that church” and “We’ve been up in that
ranger tower.” One woman whispered during the film that Conk never takes
his coat off. I laughed to myself, thinking that neither does the actor --
Roy wears a leather coat in June! (Conk’s overcoat was also recently
auctioned off.)
People surrounded producer Bill Plumstead and I wanted to pay my respects
as well. (That white hair was like a beacon!) I told him I really liked
the film, and that my husband and I had driven 10 hours specifically to
see That Beautiful Somewhere. I confessed that I couldn’t wait until 2007
for the general release to the public. My voice started to quiver since I
hadn’t entirely gotten control of myself. The man sitting next to
Plumstead said I must be a fan of Roy Dupuis. He knew; he understood.
Much of the audience had filed out when I spotted director Robert Budreau
in the hallway. I eventually got next to him and shook his hand,
congratulating him on the movie, his first feature-length film. Wanting
him to feel appreciated I described how we’d driven 10 hours from the U.S.
just to see his movie. He was slightly taken aback. We spoke of Roy
Dupuis, and he said Roy was good to work with. I told Budreau that there
was a lot of buzz about the movie on the internet, and I’d heard there was
no distributor yet and just had to take this opportunity to see it. He
smiled slightly and said something was in the works. Then he asked me if
I’d gotten a picture-card (?). When I didn’t know what he was talking
about, he walked across the hallway and returned with a stack of postcard
and credit-card sized mini-posters with a picture from the movie on the
front and the credits listed on the back. (The same as the website.) What
a nice guy! I thanked him, wished him luck, and didn’t detain him further.
Later, hubby and I discussed the film. He thought it was OK, but not
outstanding. But he couldn’t say that when we were standing next to the
author! He didn’t find the story as compelling, not on the level of
Seraphin or Maurice Richard. I suppose I agree, but I liked it more
than he did. My quibble is that I would have preferred more time
developing the two main characters, their backstory, learn more of what
makes them tick. How did they get there? Well, I know how they got
there, but I craved a richer, fuller exploration of who they are and how
they got here. Yet, perhaps the sparsity was intentional. These two
guarded people, who barely knew each other, had spent so little time
together -- and much of that hiding secrets from one another -- were more
like colleagues than friends, and here We the Audience know no more about
them than the characters themselves know. (You know how sometimes a movie
audience is privy to facts the characters are not aware of?) Perhaps
that’s part of the mystery and the miracle of TBS.
I have more questions that might be answered with another viewing. (One
where I’m clear-eyed and not blubbering?) But they can wait until more
people have seen the movie upon wider distribution. I hope my debrief will
whet their appetite. |
