We don’t do art and politics. Here in Canada, there’s an unspoken understanding that our politics aren’t interesting, entertaining, or worth our attention. Look south of the 49th parallel, or across the pond to Great Britain, and there exists a long-standing tradition of combining the two. From satire in Yes Minister and Veep to political thrillers like Scandal and the countless action movies involving the President of the United States either saving the world or being kidnapped — there are many to choose from.
Here at home, not so much. While we will probably never have the same level of political or cultural clout as our neighbours, Canadian history and politics are nevertheless rife with disbelief, absurdity, and questionable ethics. After all, the great white north is the land of Louis Riel, residential schools, the Alberta eugenics board, the FLQ, the Oka Crisis, fastcat fiasco, sponsorship scandal, Mike Duffy, and countless others that don’t jive with the innocent hockey playing, red-uniformed, constantly apologizing Mountie image.
Fortunately, this year’s Vancouver International Film Festival included a rare product of the marriage of art and Canadian politics, in Philippe Falardeau’s My Internship in Canada. The Quebecois director’s film follows Sovereign Pascal, an idealistic Haitian who travels to rural Quebec to work for the local independent Member of Parliament, Steve Guibord. It is an endearingly witty satire of both our parliamentary politics and what it means to be Canadian.
As the two travel around the riding in preparation for a parliamentary war vote, Falardeau deftly combines the conflicting interests of our diverse country, while referencing our Canadian past and present. They meet a large ensemble of characters all focused on their personal and immediate needs rather than the national issues at hand.
This ensemble covers a wide breadth of Canadian diversity from local politicians, to the Algonquin First Nations, middle class pacifists, and a politically disinterested teenager who doesn’t care for politics. Falardeau also utilizes the vastness of the Canadian landscape as both an agent in the story and as a poetic piece in true Canadian form. Supported by strong performances, the film excels by representing a great variety of Canadians while satirically skewering just about everyone on the political spectrum in equal measure.
The film also benefits from Pascal’s outside perspective as he reconciles his extreme interest and naivete about Canada with his first-hand experience on the ground. As the film progresses, he relays his experiences to his family back in Haiti to ever larger and more curious crowds; we viewers form part of the same audience, looking at Canada from a detached perspective where we can laugh at ourselves.
This structure helps highlight the absurdity of the events that transpire in the film, and reminds us to have some perspective when considering our own status on the international stage. For all the chaos that transpires in this slice of rural Quebec, the outside perspective remains upbeat. For as much as the volume turns up on the conversation around our shifting and declining reputation, it’s easy to forget that Canada is still the amongst the most respected nations in the world by just about anyone who isn’t a diplomat or academic.
With so much of it revolving around uniquely Canadian circumstances, My Internship in Canada will probably have limited success abroad. Here at home, though, it fits into a tradition of art that focuses on our shared identity and what it means to be Canadian, even when it can sometimes look and sound like a farcical stereotype to outsiders.
In doing so, the film joins the likes of Canadassimo at this year’s Venice Biennale, Douglas Coupland’s book Souvenir of Canada, and the Secret Handshake portion of last year’s Coupland retrospective at the Vancouver Art Gallery.
Examining what it means to be Canadian is a fluid concept, but important to consider in order to come to terms with our past and our present. On October 19, Canadians will go to the polls. Behind stability, change, the Syrian refugee crisis, and the niqab controversy lies an open question about our identity and direction as a nation.
