A Winter Tale

'A Winter Tale' reminded me of a snow globe. Not only because it happens in winter (hence snow) and not only because the world of this small black Toronto community gets shaken (as snow globes do) by the accidental shooting death of a young child ... but also because of the closeness and intimacy of everything. The feeling was of being invited into a small space (like a snow globe) to meet these characters, experienced with an emotional and visual closeness (e.g. many close up shots of their eyes, faces, mouths) which pressed them and their lives against me as a viewer. How could we all fit into this small globe without becoming more intimately involved (visually and emotionally) or without feeling some kind of intensity?

Gene, one of the main characters (a social worker), forms a male support group, which addresses the need for 'dialogue' among the men of the community. In contrast, there are points in the film where there is no dialogue ... where what is not said speaks as loudly as (louder than?) what is or could be. This absence (of dialogue) stood out for me for two scenes in particular: (i) after the shooting of the boy, one of the men returns to the eatery to tell the grandfather that his grandson is dead. This is done so wordlessly and powerfully that in the moment I was aware of the power of silence (absence of words). Anything voiced at that point would have ruined it. (ii) Gene (social worker) crying in bed after the shooting of the boy, his wife's long, white arm reaching out to touch his turned back. He eventually turns to her, still crying, and there is an overhead shot of their naked interracial bodies intertwined. Sensual. Maternal. Come to think of it, the men in the film often come across as boys, particularly when in the presence of the women in their lives (whether wife, girlfriend or mother). They seemed to be reflections of that little boy who got shot: just as vulnerable - both emotionally and in the sense of being potential victims of gun violence themselves.

I enjoyed the film's textures, camera work and editing. At times I found myself thinking that I could have been looking at a painting - particularly in the scenes that showed the city of Toronto. I saw it in a blurred, abstract, almost surreal way - in contrast with the realness of the life of the main characters. The close up red of a street car passing was like a paintbrush with red paint on it, streaking across the screen. The silhouetted CN tower against a golden watercolour blur of sky. A quick, haunting glimpse of a black brush-stroked female figure standing alone on a snowy sidewalk. Blurry memories of childhood. At points the editing, angles and distance of the shots worked together to make me feel as though I was seeing this urban painting through the window of a passing train: quick snippets. Not much of the city had to be shown to depict it. Like a few simple Japanese brush strokes creating the whole picture.

The soundtrack was there throughout, supporting and driving, but never standing above. The only point where I consciously became aware of it and found myself listening to what the music was 'made up' of was a looped instrumental part just before the little boy gets shot. I remember listening to it and being aware of the silence and spacing between the notes enhancing the tension of 'something about to happen'.

It's such a relief to see a film that's both set in Toronto and features Toronto as one of its principal stars. This hasn't really happened since 1970 when Don Shebib's landmark Canadian film "Going Down the Road" filled us with an extraordinary sense of pride in our Canadian culture. That's the first good thing about "A Winter Tale."

The next good thing about this film is that Telefilm Canada, our federal cultural agency whose business is the development and promotion of the Canadian film industry, had the good sense to provide funding support to this small indie production. Telefilm decision makers could not have known, more than three years ago when the film was struggling to overcome all the barriers that make it so hard for independent Canadian films to see the light of day, that this little film would have the phenomenal success it has achieved – across Canada and in Great Britain, Europe, the United States and the Caribbean.

The third good thing about "A Winter Tale" is the film itself. The fact that it looks, with empathy and thoughtfulness, at the violence and pain that has invaded culturally diverse neighborhoods in cities all over the world. And that it does so without the noisy, gory "shoot 'em up" theatrics of Hollywood's brightest and best. The fact that it explores (as much as any 100 minute film can) the inner lives of the men and women who are trapped within their day to day sorrows and joys. No matter what they do, they remain isolated by barriers of racism and poverty from the benefits and rewards that Western societies continue to promise their ever-hopeful immigrants. It is because of these features that audiences in countries all over the world believe that this little Canadian film, set in a downtown Toronto community, speaks directly to them and to their concerns and interests.

The last, but by no means the least, good thing about this film is director Frances-Anne Solomon's idea to use it as a tool for community engagement. At as many screenings as possible, Solomon and some of her cast have invited the audience to stay around and "Talk It Out". Audiences, young and old, of every color, class, caste and creed, in Canada and elsewhere, have taken up this invitation eagerly and added their own real life stories to the poignancy of the movie experience. Thus," A Winter Tale" has fulfilled much more, I am sure, that anybody ever expected.

At one of the first screenings that I attended about a year ago, Solomon thanked Diane Boehm for CHUM TV's providing the original funding to get this project going nearly eight years ago. It always gives me hope to know that there are still Canadian executives who, like Diane Boehm, are prepared to take a chance on Canadian talent that is relatively unknown in our so-called "mainstream", simply because it is Canadian.

Frances-Anne Solomon has done a fantastic job of combining a well-written script and the perfect team of actors to bring A Winter Tale to fruition on the big screen. This movie is a brutally honest and personal view of the social ills that affect young black males at risk in Toronto. Rather than just presenting a violent shoot 'em-up type of movie, Solomon shows us the lives of men from a community who are proactive in their attempt to deal with the emotional and psychological effects of poverty, and urban violence. These are elements that are hardly highlighted in depth in news stories we hear and see locally.

What makes this movie come alive is not just the stories told through a group of men seeking answers, but it's also the passion and emotion evoked by Miss G (played by the phenomenal Leonie Forbes). The history of conflict between her son Ian and herself is emotionally riveting, as is the performance of Canadian actor Peter Williams who plays the role of the social worker, Gene Wright, who initiates the support group for black males.

A Winter Tale is a special film told from a unique angle. It's a poignant story that is not exclusive to Black Canadians, but to anyone concerned about the future of their community and the children growing up under similar conditions.

A Winter Tale is a beautifully shot feature that highlights men's communication skills regarding gun violence.

Shot on location in Toronto's inner city neighbourhood of Parkdale, this crucially relevant film is all too timely.

We feel the characters viscerally, as if the film were a documentary, but its narrative flow and close camera work draws the audience in to experience the action as if we were part of the circle, face to face with real people with whom we can identify.

Scene by scene, Parkdale comes to life in full spectrum; character is revealed through a grim, suspenseful inevitability.

A Winter Tale does not provide answers to Toronto's gun violence per se, but it does expose the difficulties­ and the necessity­ in ensuring that a dialogue about these issues gets started. Now.

Penn Kemp, pennkemp.ca

Neither chained by realism nor burdened by it, director Frances-Anne Solomon thoughtfully explores the issue of Black-on-Black crime within the Black community, which certainly transcends national boundaries. Nevertheless, in "A Winter Tale"—the opening night presentation for this year's African Diaspora Film Festival in New York City—Solomon remains specific to Black Canadian affairs. Her consistent use of intimate scenes reminds the audience that such a universal theme is grounded in a specific location that is worthy of close-up attention.

The film opens with the death of a young boy as a result of stray gunfire near a drug location. Instead of allowing female characters to pronounce the pain and mournfulness of the moment, Solomon captures the devastated sounds and piercing silence of men's pain, tears and struggles. Solomon does not ignore facial dialogue. In fact, she makes good use of visual resources at the most telling moments. Her thoughtful portrayal of a crime that might only merit a blurb in newspapers is the reason for viewing the film.

Following the death, a young community-builder, Gene Wright, starts a local support group exclusively for men. Wright thinks that this unfortunate homicide will galvanize men across generations to address problems of the community. The first meeting, however, fails expectations. It is only within a local eatery, Miss G's Caribbean Take Away, that the men start to come together. It is in this more intimate setting that the film shows how crimes within the community are intertwined and have lasting effects within the home despite the bantering and play that goes on in the eatery. Amidst the urgent need to address the recent killing, each key male character has difficult issues of home that do not have comforting or identifiable resolutions.

In a question-and-answer session following the premiere screening, some audience members observed that the instructive potential of the film might be lost due to some explicit content. In response, the director upheld the current format of the film in order to show how these explicit images are not holistically demanding. Likewise, I think that although driven by true-to-life narratives, the edgy exactitude of Solomon's cinematography indicates the artist's innovative imagination.

In "A Winter Tale," Solomon along with her talented cast deliver a complex yet common story that respects the audience's interpretative freedom by preserving the dynamic lives of each character. (Courtesy of SeeingBlack.com)