Comment ma mère accoucha de moi durant sa ménopause

Inconsistent movie about the relationship between man-woman and mother-son. Feminists will sometimes cringe, sometimes clap their hands. Early in life, Jean-Charles is already attracted to woman. He lives with his mother and sister, both liberated woman. The director makes the point that the only true love is the one a son has for his mother. And he brings us on a roller-coaster ride. Some parts of the film are witty and are offering interesting comments on life. But other parts fall into utmost stupidity. As for the acting, Micheline Lanctôt saves the day. Sylvie Moreau, Lucie Laurier and Patrick Huard, usually all good, don't impress in this movie. A movie you can easily skip.

Seen at home, in Toronto, on January 2nd, 2005.

68/100 (**)

For one thing, it shows, once again, that good movies are being made these days. The grid seems closely linked as several of the same people collaborate on these films. But the momentum is here.

Specifically, this is an insightful portrait of a situation (perhaps specific to Quebec society) whereby strong women have been prominent enough to derail the supposedly usual pattern of male domination. As such, it takes up on the usual theme (gender relations) but develops it in a perceptive twist, truthful to at least what some people (men and women) perceive and comment about.

The psychological component comes not only from the presence of psychological therapy in the movie but also in some of the main themes. The script does avoid some of the pitfalls of too obvious pop-psy but still gives too much weight to a specific series of interpretations. Still, this component of the movie could be seen in the light of the stereotypes on psychology and New York Jews: "My son loves me so much that he pays $200 to talk about me."

Acting is of a high level of quality although not all roles are as salient. Paul Ahmarani is rapidly setting a pace for an acting style that quickly carried him in very distinct roles (wasn't he an extra in "Un crabe dans la tête" or is it my imagination?). While at times seemingly caricature, Micheline Lanctot's character is right on target. Sylvie Moreau's character as "sour" could have been expanded to carry the point across on gender roles. While she was given interesting scenes, "sour" wasn't allowed as much depth as her brother (main character "Jean-Charles"). Lucie Laurier's Cassandre has both more thickness and less depth. She's allowed some expansion but she turns out submissive, in a way. Still, Laurier's performance was quite impressive in range as opposed to her straightforward (but appropriate) role in "La grande séduction." Patrick Huard's Rasoir was probably added for comic relief. But it works, in the dynamics of the movie.

Overall the result is that of a very enjoyable film on issues that are common to a lot of people but are more likely to make intellectuals laugh. Still, at one point, we (my wife and I) couldn't handle it anymore and were laughing out loud.

There has been a string of very bad films coming out of Québec lately, but "Comment ma mère accoucha de moi" is surely the lowest cinematographic moment ever reached in this once-proud province. Yes, there are still good movies made in Québec, but they don't feature already famous local names known through locally produced TV soap operas, children TV shows or stand-up comedy.

Edulcorating its propos with psycho-pop, humanities 101, quotes by Sun Tze, Saint-Exupéry, Machiavelli and some poor man's Freudism, reflecting the writer's lack of culture, the film throws together a bunch of downright stupid scenes mingled with social comments, some of which are lame reflections on local problems such as the health system. This shows perfectly Rose's lack of ability to write a movie that would stand on its own, and he rather capitalizes on easy social-comment and typecasting in order to have local movie-goers clap to whatever they recognize on the screen as being "theirs". It is clear that complacency is the very heart motive of this movie.

The scenes where Micheline Lanctôt sings along some English tune which is recurrent in the movie should have been cut, as they are very nightmarish; she clearly can not be convincing as a "radiating menopausal woman", and while most of her role would require her to be sexy, she is as sensually appealing as a dead trout in advanced stages of decomposition. In the same way, pre-detox, fat Ahmarani is as convincing as a Don Juan as our interest in his master's thesis is maintained through the movie.

Many clichés from successful movies (Tanguy, among others) were mercilessly stolen. I never thought I'd say this, but Patrick Huard manages to bring some life to this movie, but not very long until his antics become as tiresome as ever (viz, by telling jokes that are already too well known). His wearing of moose antlers is unfortunately not as entertaining as Michèle Richard's in "La Postière", and thus can not save the film alone.