By: Yildiz Subuk, Staff Writer
The documentary, Malartic (2024), presents us with the story of the titular soul-stripped town. Located in Quebec, it has suffered socially and environmentally since its transformation into a commercialized mining project in 2011. The small town is built around mountains of wealth, with tons of precious metals readily available for the taking. As of now, the Malartic mine (owned by Agnico Eagle) is considered Canada’s most valuable mining site. While the site itself generates an excessive amount of wealth, the residents of Malartic face a sinister reality filled with ecological impacts, health concerns, and poverty.
There is a desolate feeling and look to Nicolas Paquet’s feature-length documentary. The sound of the film ranges from melancholic to haunting, mixing the somber tone of an acoustic guitar with an inescapable droning noise. These tones evoke a feeling of loneliness that slowly erodes into a bareness that oddly feels overstimulating. It mimics the mundane yet clamorous dissonance of mining equipment at work. Before the audience can fully grasp the visual, the opening tone sets the scene expertly.
With a documentary like Malartic, one would expect a guerilla style of filmmaking — with a handheld aesthetic, a shaky camera, and a bit of disorienting visuals — as the narrative focuses on exposing the issue through a more radical approach. Instead, audiences are presented with a film that feels reserved with its camera movements, by lingering on a shot and letting them absorb it rather than footage that feels constantly in motion. Paquet is intentional with how everything is framed. We see buildings, landmarks, and overhead drone shots, where the suburban component of the town is put in contrast to a large mining site. There are shots of construction vehicles and the grey inner regions of the mine. The isolating look of both the mining site and the town accompanying it becomes noticeable.
“So much wealth, yet there is poverty in Malartic.” — Ginette Trudel
The documentary weaves in important testimonies of town residents, researchers, and others who oppose the mining project. Paquet manages to put every side of the story on full display. Many of the residents elaborate on how the presence of the site is a significant burden, and express their frustrations with the fact their hometown has seen an increase in poverty. There are noise complaints about the site being issued regularly, concerns about dust blowing in, and as many residents attempt to bring their complaints to court, they are forced to accept out of court settlements, because the mining corporation has access to more experienced lawyers. The mine wields a clear power because of its ability to generate wealth. As of 2025, the mine is projected to produce up to 3.6 million ounces of gold. The project continues unabashedly, while the residents of the town are subjected to its downsides. Paquet attempts to get the testimonies of those involved in the project, but many individuals refuse to comment. We hear the monotone sound of voicemails and rejections over the phone, played over the image of the town.
Malartic is eerie because it exposes the mundaneness of a town slowly being turned into a commercialized entity. The mining industry not only presents the residents with negative environmental implications, but strips any bit of liveliness from the town itself.
Paquet’s decision to focus on a small town makes the issue clear. We see a community impacted by unethical mining practices within the scale of the Canadian border. Malartic shows the everyday impact of ecological exploitation, which is not just limited to countries outside the west, as smaller communities here in Canada are often brushed aside in favour of extracting capital.
Watch Malartic for free on nfb.ca
