[ You have to appreciate a film that can both quote Rimbaud (“Je me crois en enfer, donc j’y suis.”) and milk a three-breasted girl joke for all its worth. For his first feature, Robin Aubert set out to make a film that reflects how he sees himself, hard to connect with but open to it. The result is a film capable of greatness, but often self-indulgent. The story of a Weekly World News-like tabloid reporter (François Chenier) and his best buddy photograph (Patrice Robitaille) who are sent to a small town where mysterious disappearances have been occurring for decades, “Saints-Martyrs-des-damnés” is a supernatural thriller sometimes verging on self-parody, yet sometimes seeming to be taking its cheap trick scares too seriously. Typically great cinematography by Steve Asselin and music by Yves Desrosiers go a long way in keeping this from feeling like a B-movie, but the constant sudden appearances of Creepy Ghost Bride with accompanying loud orchestral thumps get tiresome. Still, there are some memorably grotesque touches (the serveuse sexée and her trisomic teddy bear-carrying son, the masked mechanic, etc.), and the achingly beautiful Isabelle Blais is worth the admission price by herself, even though she does little more than play slide guitar to cows. Diehard fans of Lynchesque nonsense, doppelgangers and giant mutant brain thingies will probably like the flick more than I did, but one way or another, this is a promising debut. ]

À quelle heure le train pour nulle part67
[ Full with the sights and sounds of India, this free form, quasi-documentary experimental feature shows Aubert working without a net, throwing himself in just about the most chaotic shooting imaginable and coming out of it with a vibrant and surreal exercise in style. Ostensibly about the search of a man (Luis Bertrand) for his twin brother, this flawed but fascinating film often seems to get lost, but that’s kind of the point. ]

À l’origine d’un cri89
[ Noir comme le fond d’un cendrier, dur comme un poing sur la gueule, amer comme un lendemain de veille, douloureux comme un coeur brisé, À l’origine d’un cri n’est pas un film facile à regarder, mais on devine qu’il a été encore plus dur à écrire et réaliser. Surtout que bien qu’il s’agisse d’une oeuvre de fiction, Robin Aubert y a inclus beaucoup d’éléments de son propre vécu. Drame familial sur fond de road movie, le film d’Aubert raconte l’histoire d’un jeune homme (Patrick Hivon) qui, en compagnie de son grand-père (Jean Lapointe), arpente les motels et tavernes du Québec à la recherche de son père (Michel Barrette), parti en cavale avec le cadavre de sa femme récemment décédée (Véronique Beaudet). Bien que les horreurs qu’on y retrouve ne soient pas de nature fantastique comme dans Saints-Martyrs-des-Damnés, le premier long métrage d’Aubert, À l’origine d’un cri n’est pas un film terre-à-terre pour autant. ]

[ Reviewed on Extra Beurre ]

Les Affamés94
[ Reviewed on Extra Beurre ]