Matthew Wolkow

An anachronistic firefighter, a quotidian poet, and an expert soup-maker, Ducarmel also plays in a competitive basketball league. There’s only one problem with his hobbies: finding a babysitter to look after his daughter. Moreover, when he dozes off in the evening, he dreams… a little too forcefully. In his bizarre dream world, a beguiling blue book reigns, love looms, and he is the best basketball player of all time.

Exterior. Day. Montreal / On the outskirts of the metropolitan highway, there is a Mediterranean fig tree / Named Ficus carica, this tree is the work of a 60-year-old Montrealer of Argentine origin / The miracle of a backyard where three regions of the world meet / The story of an observation.

At once simple, profound and light-hearted, Minutes is a play on words; a deliberative game and puzzle.

At once simple, profound and light-hearted, Minutes is a play on words; a deliberative game and puzzle.

At once simple, profound and light-hearted, Minutes is a play on words; a deliberative game and puzzle.

Montreal... a museum... a garage... Chile... Muchas Cosas Juntas... Plusieurs choses ensemble... Many things together...

"A l likeness is a gift... it avoids... or confuses time if your prefer." said John Berger. Following this premise, 81.92 is a structuralist inquiry into the notion of presence and absence as it reveals archival radio broadcasts from former Montreal radio host Mike Wolkow. The former (the audible) is left invisible while the later (the visible) seeks to find the missing elements that trace the passage of this vocal presence. Past and present interplay in this piece that shifts between epochs, thus mimicking a radio signal that is being tuned in.

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.

Halfway between real memories, dedication and fantasy, this essay-poem takes the form of a postcard on a background of maritime fable in which eloquent speakers trace the outlines of a legacy, that of a mysterious mentor.

An anachronistic firefighter, a quotidian poet, and an expert soup-maker, Ducarmel also plays in a competitive basketball league. There’s only one problem with his hobbies: finding a babysitter to look after his daughter. Moreover, when he dozes off in the evening, he dreams… a little too forcefully. In his bizarre dream world, a beguiling blue book reigns, love looms, and he is the best basketball player of all time.

An unfinished film is passed along from one friend to another. The dialog between them is a journey crossed by the swarming of the Great Eastern Brood X of periodical cicadas that prophetically emerge every 17 years in the United States, invoking a reflection of a post-pandemic present and our shared futures. A road movie composed of a chorus of voices (both human and non-human), the warnings of history, the power of nature and rebirth.

An unfinished film is passed along from one friend to another. The dialog between them is a journey crossed by the swarming of the Great Eastern Brood X of periodical cicadas that prophetically emerge every 17 years in the United States, invoking a reflection of a post-pandemic present and our shared futures. A road movie composed of a chorus of voices (both human and non-human), the warnings of history, the power of nature and rebirth.

This short film tells the story of a meeting between two neighbours, in Ahuntsic and Villeray, around memories of Portugal; it is a story of two very different cities, Montreal and Lisbon; of an old man who has come to terms with death; of two strangers separated by an ocean but connected by the flight of a homing pigeon. Birds are the guides for this poetic meandering, exploring memories of the past and portents of the future. A dissonant score accompanies a split screen, completing the impression that we are confronted with a sensory puzzle, at once natural and urban, in which meditation takes its cues from fragments of reality. Matthew Wolkow’s film is a gentle ornithological, human and floral tale, suffused with both hope and the grim anxieties of our time. (Apolline Caron-Ottavi)