Directing
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A man—Eric, playing a version of himself—embarks on a quiet but obsessive quest to discover what lies inside a bag.
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.
The blacksmith returns to Montreal with fire and sword. He finds his old shop, now abandoned, and all the memories it holds.
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.
Lost in Montreal, an American is looking for a missing trumpet player. He begins his search in the apartment of the musician, where he'll meet Melissa, the young woman who lived with the missing man.
Koroviev, a police officer who teaches poetry in a brigade of police poets, is in search of a precious Bible annotated by Pierre Maheu, the captain of the St. Elias, a legendary ship. His quest leads him to befriend a young thief who introduces him to a mysterious woman named Coriandre.