Movies to Watch From Canada

Written, directed, and scored by Viggo Mortensen, The Dead Don’t Hurt is a visually stunning, emotionally potent, but still impressively restrained period drama that flips the script on typical Westerns. On the surface, it looks like it could be one—there’s even a bad guy clad in black who slings guns outside a saloon—but the film decidedly focuses on Vivienne and her everyday life. Viewers might think nothing is happening, but in fact, everything is happening, such is Mortensen’s framing of the value of these overlooked aspects of life. Immigrants, too, who are usually just extras in Westerns populate this movie and make it their own—as they should. They’re the backbone of America after all, and yet they’re usually relegated to the background in period dramas. The icing on the cake is that the film is breathtakingly beautiful, each frame a transportive picture of 19th-century America.

Celebrities are often described as being “vulnerable” in documentaries, but it’s never been more fitting in this case. Here, Celine Dion opens up about her near-paralyzing illness, which affects her vocal cords and muscles and consequently prohibits her from performing on stage. We see clips of the star having spasms and breakdowns as she tries and fails and tries again to get her voice back. More than just a simple biography of what Dion has achieved, which we already know is massive, the film is largely about the doubt that creeps in and threatens to rock your sense of self, and the strength of the human spirit to persevere despite all that. The film is bracingly, unflinchingly raw, but it’s never exploitative, thanks partly to director Irene Taylor’s gentle direction and to Dion’s unwavering resilience.

Everything about Sugarcane is arresting, whether it’s the epic shots of the sweeping reservation (“Canada is our land,” one native announces), the emotional moments shared by survivors of the abusive residential schools, or the damning discoveries they find in an investigation into the Catholic priests. Every second of it is sure to shock and infuriate. Not everything is tragic though. There are slivers of hope, especially from the independently assembled team leading the investigation. The police are apathetic and the suspects are evasive, but despite the deep trauma, pain, and violence the community of Sugarcane has gone through, they persist.

Are connections truly fated, completely chosen, or purely circumstantial? The slow tragedy of Henry James’ The Beast in the Jungle hangs entirely on the question, which captivated readers and filmmakers with the concept, including Bertrand Bonello, which forms the foundations of 2023’s The Beast. Bonello lets loose The Beast in the Jungle into an AI playbox of time and space and destiny, transforming the simple examination of human life into a sci-fi epic, a moving period romance, and an existential mystery all at once. It can occasionally feel a bit jumbled up at times, with the way Bonello jumps across lives, but Léa Seydoux and George MacKay hold everything together with their performance, making La Bête deeply striking, if a bit derivative.

Since we live in a society, interacting with authority is inescapable. Terrestrial Verses depict fairly mundane day-to-day interactions– getting a birth certificate, settling a traffic violation, or attending a job interview– but through nine vignettes framed with a static camera, aimed at a person trying to negotiate with someone more powerful just outside the frame, these mundane interactions become satirically absurd. For those unfamiliar with the ideology behind the regime, these interactions are just so annoying. But for those in the know, the doublespeak in the dialogue reflects how finicky and arbitrary the rules set by the authoritarian regime are, and celebrates the wit and ingenuity of the ordinary people that have to navigate them. Terrestrial Verses seems utterly mundane at first, but it proves to be smart, incisive, and deeply insightful.

Just like with his mentor and contemporary, Fred Rogers, there are no dark secrets to Ernest Coombs’ earnest belief in giving children the space to be gentle and creative. Even with relatively little “drama” throughout the life of the man called Mr. Dressup, it’s still profoundly moving to see him put in the work to make the world a kinder place. Director Robert McCallum keeps this documentary exactly as straightforward as it needs to be, moving through Coombs’s life with total reverence but plenty of modesty—making sure not to inflate the idea of Mr. Dressup into something Coombs himself would have disagreed with.

In its act of honoring this person with an everyman personality and a trunk full of quaint costumes, the film also serves as a tribute to low budget educational television. Working within a very small studio, with simple puppets and no strict script to follow, Coombs and his friends found any way possible to stick to their original idea of teaching very young kids that being kind and communicating one’s feelings clearly were the best things one could achieve. Behind Mr. Dressup’s softness is a remarkable work ethic, a deep respect for children, and a commitment to thoughtful, universal values.

It’s always tricky translating literature to screen. In Shortcomings’ case, it struggles to make its Berkeley and New York settings appear more lived-in than just a few postcard-like frames. You could also tell that the conversations it stirs up about things like representation and mixed-race relationships began in the early aughts, when the novel it was adapted from was first released. But those lapses are small and forgivable in the face of a lovely ensemble cast and a whipsmart script.

It also takes a special kind of skill to make a character as fiercely unlikeable as Ben (Min) watchable, to hold up a mirror to the audience and make them stay. Thankfully, it’s a skill that Tomine and first-time director Randall Park display with such grace. Ben, Alice (Sherry Cola), and Miko (Ally Maki) are flawed and often pathetic, but they’re also honest reflections of who we become when the demands of self-preservation and romantic openness clash. It’s a little unnerving to hear them verbalize what we’ve always feared about ourselves, but it’s also exhilarating, not to mention comforting, knowing that we’re not alone in feeling this way. Shortcomings works because it doesn’t confine itself to genre: it’s a character study first, and a romantic comedy second.

When vampires choose not to kill a human, it’s usually played up with so much drama, angst, and maybe a bit of romance. Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person on the other hand takes this choice as a comedic one. It may be a tad ludicrous for a vampire to refuse to drink blood on ethical grounds and trauma, but writer-director Ariane Louis-Seize takes this silly situation with a compelling sweetness, depicting Sasha with a familiar teen uncertainty made much more captivating with Sara Montpetit’s gothic ingénue charisma. Humanist Vampire does take a more quirky YA romance approach than expected from the title, but it’s funny, charming, and totally something new.

The gorgeous grain of Falcon Lake’s lush 16mm cinematography instantly gives it an air of nostalgia, as if the movie is an intimate reflection on a precious formative summer. That effect is confirmed over the film’s runtime: it takes place from the perspective of Bastien (Joseph Engel), a 13-year-old French boy whose family is being hosted at a Quebec lake cabin by their friend and her 16-year-old daughter Chloe (Sara Montpetit). The woodland setting could be idyllic or eerie, a duality brought explicitly to the fore by Chloe, whose interests lean towards the macabre.

It’s not long before Bastien becomes smitten with the assured older girl, and it’s their dynamic that gives Falcon Lake its profoundly captivating effect. Though the movie’s gothic undertones do give it a troubling air of tension, the way they come to the surface in its ending feels a little inharmonious to the delicate human drama that the teens have built up until then. Both actors turn in performances so extraordinarily nuanced and naturalistic that Falcon Lake doesn’t need that twist — it already stands as a deeply affecting coming-of-age portrait, one in which tenderness and betrayal are raw new pleasures and pains to be discovered.

If you’re hard working and well-situated enough, you get to chase and achieve and live out your dreams for your whole life. But if you’re lucky enough, you get to choose how you’ll leave. Swan Song is the journey Canadian ballet icon Karen Kain took to direct one last production of Swan Lake just before retiring as artistic director of National Ballet of Canada. Director Chelsea McMullan takes a fairly standard approach in her documentary, but to be fair, the subject matter is interesting by itself. The beauty of the ballet has long captivated cinema, so it’s unsurprising that the beauty is present, but McMullan effortlessly highlights the way Kain shaped her directorial style based on her own experience, with more humane and collaborative leadership that allowed the country’s troupe to shine.

Much sweeter and much more bittersweet than one might expect, World’s Best does some deceptively clever things with its major themes of math and rap. Somehow, this pre-teen coming-of-age story finds a way to play with preconceived notions of equations always resulting in certain answers, and of modern hip hop being all about swagger and status. Unsurprisingly (or maybe disappointingly for some), the film ultimately touches on grief and loss, which an increasing number of Disney films have been doing as of late. But World’s Best keeps itself fresh through its sincere, energetic tone, colorful production design, and spirited performances by Utkarsh Ambudkar and the young Manny Magnus. So even when the rapping gets corny (which it does more often than it should), the spirit behind it is so endearing that it’s hard to be mad.

Those who grew up watching baseball legend Reggie Jackson will know that his was a name you read all over the news. One of America’s first athlete superstars, Jackson had a reputation that preceded him—he was a celebrity you’d just as soon find in Studio 54 than in the gym, wearing diamond bracelets more than baseball mittens. But in his self-titled documentary Reggie, he finally tells his story in his own words. 

Reggie tracks his career in the context of the constant racism he and his fellow Black players in the league faced for many years. He explains why building the tough persona the media condemned him for years was necessary. It’s as autobiographical as it is historical, with Jackson often discussing how race informed every part of the sport, whether he wanted it to or not. The documentary is fascinating and informative, and it serves as an essential reminder of the inequality and double standards POC players faced and continue to face today.

Surprisingly dramatic for a documentary but without exoticizing its central characters for a privileged audience, The Territory is that rare film that rightfully portrays indigenous peoples as living firmly in the present. In their continuing struggle to protect their land and culture, the Uru-eu-wau-wau people of the Amazon may be vulnerable, but they aren’t helpless. They’re organized, have access to technology, and know exactly how they want to represent themselves—armed with bows and arrows and defending what’s theirs in beautiful, thrilling footage. In this way, even as The Territory ultimately touches on issues that have affected all of Brazil, namely the destructive effects of Jair Bolsonaro’s presidency, it still feels like a documentary co-authored by these indigenous people themselves.

Surreal, off-putting, and extremely disturbing, Infinity Pool plays with the concepts of cloning and the death penalty to craft an examination on colonial tourism. It’s a thematically rich horror film, with hazy neon-lit sex scenes and absolutely terrible behavior, enabled by their wealth and advanced technology that could have been put to better use. Mia Goth, in particular, is strikingly unhinged, as Gabi taunts and lures James into bigger and more terrible crimes, crimes that he can only pay off with the wealth of his father-in-law. And Alexander Skarsgård as James believably gets sucked into this extremely libertine lifestyle, fuelled by the nepotistic anxiety of not living up to his own potential. The film presents a scary notion that pushed by wealth and playground tactics, one will willingly kill their own conscience, again and again, to belong to their cohort.

With a script that seems to have been written for a medieval fantasy, but set in a present-day Ivorian jail, Night of the Kings immediately situates itself between the realms of reality and imagination. Whether or not one thinks that certain details about the prison’s strange rituals have been lost in translation, the mysticism surrounding the events of the movie remains impossible to shake. The idea of improvising one’s way out of trouble should make sense in any cultural context after all, and this is what keeps the film on edge—and what helps Night of the Kings work as such a singular vision from an often underrepresented region of world cinema.

Not much happens in Women Talking, but what it lacks in action it more than makes up for in message. As the wronged women of an insular Christian colony decide whether they should leave or stay in their community, valuable points on each side are raised and debated fiercely. Are the men at fault or is there a bigger problem at hand? Is it sacrilegious to refuse forgiveness? Will leaving really solve anything? 

The women of this ultraconservative and anti-modern community may not know how to read or write, but years of toiling away on land, family, and faith have made them wise beyond their years, which makes their discussion all the more captivating and powerful. Relevant themes, coupled with director Sarah Polley’s poetic shots and the cast’s all-around stellar performances, make Women Talking a uniquely compelling and timeless watch.

Entergalactic, a vibrant animated romcom from the mind of musician Kid Cudi, follows new neighbors Jabari (Cudi) and Meadow (Jessica Williams) as they navigate their way through the ups and downs of modern love. They’re both established artists at the height of their careers, but when it comes to romance, they’re still scraping for lessons, which they mostly get from equally clueless but funny friends.

Featuring songs from Cudi’s latest record of the same name, Entergalactic doubles as a visual album that comes to life with every beat and movement. It also stars many familiar names, among them Timothée Chalamet, Vanessa Hudgens, Ty Dolla $ign, Jaden Smith, and Macaulay Culkin.

If the sheer intensity of The Novice’s storytelling can at times feel like it’s trying too hard to be in-your-face—rather than authentically disturbed—the ambition of Laura Hadaway’s direction is still quite the spectacle to behold. Where some of the film’s relationships don’t come off as complex as they should be, Hadaway and her team more than makes up for with frantic editing, shallow camera focus, panicked strings as a musical score, and heavy breathing mixed deep into the sound design. There’s just something violent about how the movie is put together, as Alex (played by Isabelle Fuhrman) tears herself apart for seemingly no other reason than to prove to herself that she can do it.

A character study in the absolute purest sense, Anne at 13,000 Ft. doesn’t even have the kind of satisfying closure one would expect from any story, nor does it explain anything about its protagonist’s difficult, erratic behavior in the context of mental health. It’s an exercise in testing how much empathy a character can earn solely on account of their being a human being having a hard time. Appropriately, the filmmaking on display makes for a deliberately uncomfortable experience, with tension ratcheting up in practically every given situation, enhanced by the fact that director Kazik Radwanski and star Deragh Campbell improvised much of the movie as they were making it.

Your Name Engraved Herein is a melancholy and emotional film set in 1987 just as martial law ends in Taiwan. The film explores the relationship between Jia-han and Birdy, two boys in a Catholic school who are in a romantic relationship. The movie tackles homophobia and social stigma in society which evokes a bleak and rather depressing atmosphere, emphasised by the movie’s earthy aesthetic. There is a rawness in the film’s narrative and dialogue, topped off by the lead actors’ successfully raw performances. Your Name Engraved Herein is tender as well as heartbreaking, occasionally depicting the joy of youth.

A truly bizarre comedy that shoots far beyond the boundaries of what should probably be considered good taste, The Twentieth Century stands as one of the strangest movies ever made based on a historical figure. Adapted from the real Mackenzie King’s (Canada’s longest-serving prime minister) diaries, the film replaces any traces of reality with psychological projection and almost nonsensical stoner humor. It functions as a satire of the way Canadian society is often depicted as polite (when, according to writer/director Matthew Rankin, it’s anything but) and as a portrait of how even the most powerful politicians are just little boys seeking approval and indulging in fetishes to compensate for the love they can never receive.

The Apprentice is as much about Roy Cohn as it is about the titular mentee, a very green Donald Trump. It’s Cohn who teaches Trump the dirty tricks and the power moves, and it’s he who instills in him his everlasting entitlement. It’s also Cohn who arguably steals the show. As expected, Strong disappears into his character and is at once terrifying and pathetic, but always arresting. Stan is less effective as Trump, but his more subtle turn as the real estate mogul still works, especially when set against Cohn’s more hardened and vulnerable persona. The film is powered by these two; without them, it moves like any old tale about greed, power, and betrayal. It doesn’t shy away from Trump’s known grotesqueries, but it also could’ve benefited from leaning into them more, a la Wolf of Wall Street. As it stands, The Apprentice is familiar fare elevated by the engaging performances of two of Hollywood’s best-working character actors.

After more than 400 separate film adaptations, is there anything new to say about the monster that birthed the sci-fi genre? Turns out, yes, there is. Writer-director Guillermo del Toro has long dreamed about adapting his favorite movie monster, and it shows, with the few changes he makes to the story. Some book purists may find these changes off-putting, but the way del Toro structures the film actually lines his version closer to the original novel, remixing its epistolary form through a POV shift halfway the film. The shift does erase some of the ambiguity, as film adaptations often do, but overall, it’s a move that makes sense for del Toro. It’s a change that highlights his fascination for the human in the monster, and it’s a change that the cast gamely takes on with their excellent performances. 

In The Kid Detective, Adam Brody stars as Abe Applebaum, a once-beloved child prodigy turned pathetic P.I. stuck in the glory days of his past. At 32 years old, he’s still solving petty mysteries and coasting on his parents’ money, but things start to change when he is finally dealt with a real, adult case: a murder that confounds even the local police. As Abe uncovers more details about the case, he also unwittingly finds a connection to his traumatic past and begins a long-overdue coming-of-age journey. 

Released during the first year of the pandemic, The Kid Detective understandably flew under the radar when it first came out, garnering sufficient critical praise but not enough fanfare. It will no doubt find a second life among film lovers, though; it’s too smart and riveting to go unnoticed. Most impressive is how director Evan Morgan, in his feature debut, deftly balances multiple genres in a movie that often feels as if Wes Anderson’s The Royal Tenenbaums, Roman Polanski’s Chinatown, and modern stoner humor were somehow rolled into one. The gags consistently amuse, the drawn-out mysteries pay off, and the human element persists throughout. Adam Brody, himself a kid celebrity back in the day, expertly carries this delightful and sobering film. 

Hassan Fazili and Nargis Fazili are two filmmakers who, faced with death threats, escape their home in Afghanistan and start a journey to Europe that millions of others have taken over the past few years. But unlike most others, the Fazilis filmed everything on their way.

The result is not only a portrayal of the dangers they go through but it’s also about less obvious and possibly more common aspects of the refugee experience. It’s about the wait in refugee centers (that can last many years), the anticipation and also what it means to do all of this with children. Because watch out for the little Fazilis, who travel with their parents, for they will steal your heart.

This coming-of-age drama set near Sept-Îles in Quebec, Canada is about two indigenous Innu best friends who grow up together. One day, one of them meets a white guy and starts planning a life with him, which is seen by both her best friend and her community as a rupture with them.

“If everybody did the same thing you’re doing, we wouldn’t exist,” her friend tells her. Kuessipan is about that intersection between friends growing apart and indigenous identity, all set in the backdrop of Canadian reserve life. Won the Grand Prix at the Québec City Film Festival.

A simple movie about a Scottish country singer with a dream to go to Nashville, U.S.A and reach stardom. It starts with her leaving prison to return to her mom’s house, where her kid was being raised in her absence. Heavy stuff, but this girl is determined to let nothing get in the way of realizing her dreams. Will she make it? At what cost? Wild Rose answers those questions with a warm script that’s designed to make you feel good without completely misleading you. Think of it as a more grounded A Star is Born.

This historical drama opens with one of the most thrilling chase scenes in recent memory, as Higinio Blanco, the man at the center of the story, escapes government forces during the Spanish Civil War.

He goes into hiding that, without him realizing, would last 33 years. He would only emerge in a government amnesty in 1969, as would many like him across Spain.

Themes of love (Higinio was confined with his newlywed wife), solitude and fear are at the center of a story that remains thrilling even when it goes through the isolation years.

Upon learning that three young members of their family will soon lose their ability to see, parents Sébastien and Edith Pelletier decide to travel around the world to tick off things from their children’s bucket list. That list alone, which includes drinking juice atop a camel and seeing Mount Everest, makes for an adorable watch (it’s always nice to see deeply active and curious children in an increasingly digital world), but it’s the dedication their parents, Sébastien and Edith, pour into them that gives the film its heart. They prepare their children as much as they can by allowing them to see and sense everything, so that they have touchstones and references when their sight begins to fade. While watching the sunset in a dreamy Egypt desert, Edith asks 11-year-old Mia, “Without your eyes, can you feel the immensity of this place?” Mia says “Oui,” as she runs sand through her hands.

Shot almost entirely in one take and on a tiny budget, and yet the central performance in this movie is still better than most big-budget dramas I’ve seen this year.

Two indigenous women, one upper-class and the other impoverished, meet on the day that the rich one gets an IUD and the other one, pregnant, finds herself kicked out of her home. They spend a few hours together: they talk, they take cabs, walk, etc; and you as a viewer, follow them throughout their intimate yet difficult moments.

If you like subtle movies that showcase how people live and interact with one another, beyond plot-obsessiveness, this is for you.

The movie follows Martha (Vanessa Kirby), a young wife who loses her baby in a failed home birth. She tries her best to trudge through the aftermath of loss, but her coping attempts prove to be near impossible, not least because her husband Sean (Shia LaBeouf) and mother Liz (Ellen Burstyn) continually domineer every aspect of her life.

Pieces of a Woman is harrowing and heartbreaking, with the actors giving their all in this realistic and revealing drama. But it’s Kirby’s performance as the unraveled yet apathetic Martha that is the film’s immediate standout, rightfully earning her a Best Actress nomination at the 2021 Academy Awards.

When thinking about buying something, it’s easy to only think about price and quality, but with many investigations around the world about inhumane labor practices, it’s no wonder that more people would like to look at the companies they’re buying from, or at least buy secondhand when possible. One such investigation is depicted in Letter from Masanjia. While it starts first at the discovery of the letter in Oregon, the true story continues on the other side of the world, through the difficult experiences Sun Yi and his fellow detainees were forced to go through when the Falun Gong movement grew greater in number than the Chinese Communist Party. It’s a harrowing tale, with certain sequences being animated due to a natural lack of footage, and it’s one that needed to be made.

Contrary to other sci-fi films, this oddball animated feature reimagines a different history. Rather than envisioning where tech can take us, it imagines a world still held back by the limits of steam. That’s because scientists like Tesla, Edison, and Einstein are forced underground. Because of it, April and the Extraordinary World feels quite unique. It doesn’t slap on the aesthetic of steampunk for the heck of it, it just naturally allows steampunk to inform the story, adopting a makeshift, rebellious attitude that embodies the best of science. Like its title character, April bucks against expectations to create something distinctly original.

The Order is set in the 1980s, but it may as well have taken place in the present; the terror of white supremacists and the desire to storm the Capitol are eerily relevant. However, as political as The Order is, it works better as a cop drama. Director Justin Kurzel has the thrill of the chase down to a pat. As FBI Agent Terry Husk, Jude Law is equal parts talented and tormented (as any good onscreen detective seems to be). And matching his tense energy is Nicholas Hoult, who plays a neo-Nazi terrorist set to overthrow the government. His character could’ve been oversized or cartoonish in less deft hands, but Hoult plays his role with just the exact amount of evil charm to make him a believable cult leader.

Possessor announces a visionary new voice in Brandon Cronenberg, and is one to watch for the concept alone, brilliantly melding science fiction and horror into one. Cronenberg’s direction is reminiscent of a cross between Christopher Nolan’s Inception and Jonathan Glazer’s Under The Skin, but has more than enough originality to stand well on its own. However, unfortunately, it is surprisingly slow at times, and is far from the mind-blowing gore fest that was promised, resulting in a well made but underwhelming experience. BUT, if you were in the mood for a trippy introspective sci-fi thriller and are able to keep your expectations tempered, this is well worth a watch

Sandra Oh earned her breakout in this warm, candid Canadian indie, which — not uncoincidentally — shares its name with that of a decorative Chinese symbol associated with marriage. The movie’s title is also a reference to 22-year-old Jade Li’s (Oh) struggle to pursue her own ambitions and meet the clashing romantic and professional expectations her disapproving first-generation immigrant parents have for her. As she puts it, “Double happiness is when you make yourself happy and everyone else happy, too.”

An aspiring actress who dreams of playing Blanche DuBois, Jade is instead asked by unimaginative casting directors to adopt a pronounced Chinese accent for tiny bit parts. In essence, she’s typecast everywhere: on set, and at home, where she struggles to play the good daughter who’ll give up acting for a more conventional job and will only marry a man her parents approve of. It’s a jarring existence, but Double Happiness never feels claustrophobic because it gives Jade the freedom to finally be herself via witty, confessional monologues and fantasy sequences. There’s undoubtedly bittersweetness to this portrait of a young woman fighting to be herself on every front, but that it’s nevertheless such an irresistibly charming, never-flippant watch is a testament to first-time director Mina Shum and Oh’s already mature talents.