Before Don Draper, there was Bert Stern—a man who forever shaped the way we looked at consumer products. Bert Stern: Original Mad Man takes an intimate look at one of the most influential fashion and celebrity photographers of the 20th century. Stern was a pioneer in the field of commercial photography, reimagining advertisements and fashion magazines alike with a modern and minimalistic eye.

The documentary closely examines Stern’s life, but often its story is sequentially unfocused. It shifts from the present day, replete with lawsuits and the travails of old age, to the past, by way of Stern’s memories.

Stern undoubtedly lived an extraordinary life, and is still lively and entertaining at the age of 94. Known primarily for shooting The Last Sitting of Marilyn Monroe six weeks before her death, Stern is a self-professed womanizer, who claims that women are his “favourite thing in the world.”

Starting out as the assistant to an art director at an advertising firm in New York City, Stern eventually moved into the realm of fashion and celebrity photography. This is what he is best known for today, having shot Monroe, Twiggy, Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, and more recently, Kate Moss and Lindsay Lohan—the latter in an infamous recreation of The Last Sitting—throughout his long career.

The movie details Stern’s relationships with many women, but most notably his volatile marriage to American ballet dancer Allegra Kent. The focus on women lends the film an almost misogynistic tone, as it appears that instead of loving women and praising them in his pictures, Stern instead used the medium of photography to dominate and own them. Although Stern is not an unlikeable subject, some of his opinions are dated and sexist, and sit uncomfortably with a modern audience.

Director Shannah Laumeister is a close friend of Stern’s, and sometimes her relationship with the legendary photographer gets in the way of the film’s narrative. For example, the documentary tends to focus on their oddly sexual yet platonic friendship, instead of the more interesting, dynamic aspects of Stern’s life, such as his beginnings in advertising, and his relationship with his family. Removing the sections that feature Laumeister and her relationship with Stern would have created a much more focused and consistent direction for the film.

The director’s close relationship with the subject also allows for a large amount of bias, as more unsavoury (yet important) aspects of Stern’s personality and life are only casually revealed near the end of the documentary, only to be immediately swept away.

One of the most notable examples of this is Stern’s descent into mental illness in the ’70s, which is framed in a bizarre way that undermines the severity of the breakdown. Instead of portraying Stern’s illness as a cautionary tale against heavy drug use, its importance is downplayed.

Similarly, Stern’s estranged relationship with one of his daughters is hinted at near the end of the film, but her absence is given absolutely no explanation from Stern himself—Laumeister simply skims over the surface, instead of exposing any true familial emotion beneath Stern’s tough exterior. Interestingly, Stern’s son is not interviewed in the film, for reasons that also go unacknowledged and unexplained.

Despite the documentary’s subject’s extremely exciting life, Bert Stern: Original Mad Man becomes depressing.

“I shouldn’t have been so happy [when I was young], I should have saved it for now … when I need it,” Stern states in the film.

It seems that even with all of his experiences within the world of celebrity, the lack of close personal relationships in Stern’s life has come back to haunt him. His isolation is a topic which is conspicuously missing from the film, and it might be the cause of his estranged relationship with at least one of his children. It’s unfortunate—although he caught many beautiful moments on film, Bert Stern seems to have neglected to pursue them in his own life outside his studio.

Bert Stern: Original Mad Man opens Mar. 29 at Cinema du Parc (3575 Avenue du Parc).

It seems that Seattle has delivered yet another gem to the Montreal music scene.

Up-and-coming singer-songwriter and McGill music student Antoine Martel, who hails from the rainy city, recognizes the long line of talent that has arisen from his hometown. Leading a self-named band, Martel laughs as he lists the great number of his musical influences that happen to be from his hometown—Fleet Foxes, Eddie Vedder, and The Head & the Heart, to name just a few.

Martel’s folk rock album, Cough Drops in Autumn, has a calming acoustic sound, with complementing elements of classical and jazz. It is clear that Martel’s extensive musical training has had an impact on his songwriting. His compositions are far from ordinary. They are detail oriented, and clearly musically complex, replete with intricate melodies, woodwind, and fiddle solos, and topped off with his powerful lyricism.

As a child, Martel’s parents always encouraged him to get involved in the arts. He began classical piano training at age five, and continued for 11 years. Although these lessons gave him an unmatchable musical foundation, his motivation was low at the time.

“I didn’t actually like [piano], which is strange to think back upon now,” he chuckles.

After years of arguments over practicing, his parents made him a deal: he could quit, as long as he promised to pick up another instrument. So Martel finished learning one last piano piece, Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, and made a quick switch to guitar.

Now, five years later, Martel is studying music composition at McGill’s prestigious Schulich School of Music, where he finds himself surrounded by an immense amount of talent.

“My band members are all way better musicians than me,” he humbly admits, saying that he only needs to bring his songs to them once before they are ready to perform. He raves over his band, which consists entirely of McGill musicians: Guillaume Pilote on drums, Alan Mackie on bass, Neil Heaton on piano, Alex Cherney on guitar, Devin LaCasce on flute, and Gareth Dicker on violin. Martel himself leads on guitar and vocals.

Martel draws inspiration from the city of Montreal, and his experiences as a student.

“Montreal has shaped this album in a lot of ways,” he says. Two tracks on his new album, “The Fire” and “How Things Change” were actually inspired by a funny experience he had as a first year student. In March 2011, a fire broke out in New Residence Hall, only a few floors directly above Martel’s dorm room. As a result of the damage, he and 17 other inhabitants were relocated out of residence for a month, and given temporary rooms at the downtown Delta hotel.

“I had this great balcony [at the Delta],” Martel says. “I sat on that balcony, and wrote a lot of tunes.”

He is similarly sanguine when discussing his music writing process.

“It changes … but it usually involves me with my acoustic guitar, around four in the morning, not being able sleep,” Martel says. “That’s where most of the things start happening.” He confesses that writing lyrics is the most difficult step for him, crediting Ben Harper and Alexi Murdoch as two artists he looks to for inspiration.

Though Martel is continuing to write and record, he’s mainly looking to get his music out there.

“You can have it for free, I really don’t care,” he jokes as he talks about his new album.

What’s next for Martel? He continues to enjoy all that Montreal has to offer, including places to perform. It’s evident that his future is bright, as he works to join the ranks of the other brilliant Seattle born musicians before him.

Coughdrops in Autumn is available online, pay what you can. Album release show on Mar. 28, 8 p.m., at L’Alize (900 Ontario est). Tickets $5.

Comedy is not typically thought of as a strenuous field. Performers go on stage, talk for a few minutes about their lives, and get paid. However, Andrew Searles, the energetic and affable comedian performing a special show called C’est Moi! C’est Chocolat! at Théâtre Sainte Catherine this weekend, does much more than the average performer.

A recent marketing graduate from Concordia University, Searles has always possessed a love for comedy performance. After graduating, he decided to follow this passion, and bravely committed to an attempt to break through the glass ceiling of professional comedy in Canada. Although he admits the decision to deter the acquisition of a “real career” was also strongly influenced by a love for “sleeping until 1 p.m. and then watching Fresh Prince all day,” he has been working tirelessly to stand out in stand-up.

Even so, creating a reputation is “time-consuming and mentally exhausting,” says Searles. Even after several years of surviving purely off his performance, he is frustrated by clubs’ refusal to let him perform his own special show, one dear to his heart. So he personally rented out Théâtre Sainte Catherine, set up the entire weekend, arranged opening acts, and marketed the upcoming event in an attempt to circumvent big business and succeed independently.

His material ranges from his own lifestyle as a visible minority in Canada, to the antics of female “army units” in clubs. During the brief interview, he effortlessly caught this writer out of breath with laughter due to his quick wit and eloquence. However, he explained that being funny is not enough to be a comedian.

“You have to be flexible and adapt to the audience,” says Searles. “If they’re older, don’t talk about Facebook. If they laugh at a dick joke, then keep telling dick jokes. What people don’t realize is that the audience always controls the show.”

Searles can be a goofy guy—to promote his event, he did a photo shoot of women smearing chocolate pudding all over his suit—but his vision is the true cause of his success. He not only created the idea for the shoot, but organized the cameramen, models, rentals, and the distribution of flyers, as well as all other aspects of promotion.

“My marketing education has been instrumental for every step of the process,” he insists.

This upcoming weekend will feature five shows, and every detail of each were completely coordinated by Searles himself.

“This show is my baby, it’s something I’ve had in my head for about three years,” explains Searles, with obvious excitement. His only regret about this show is that he’ll have to miss Bal en Blanc—Montreal’s annual Easter rave party—but he seems confident his performance will be even better than his favourite artist Armin Van Buuren’s.

Searles makes a strong pitch.

“I can guarantee you’ll be laughing,” he says, with regard to his performance as well as those of his two openers, Rodney Ramsey and Guido Cocomello. To entice an Easter weekend audience, everyone will get a free chocolate bunny with admission. But one suspects that the offer of chocolate isn’t necessary to make C’est Moi! C’est Chocolat! a hit with the crowd.

Andrew Searles’ C’est Moi! C’est Chocolat! runs Mar. 28 to 30 at Théâtre Sainte Catherine (264 St. Catherine). Tickets $15 advance, $20 door.

Admission is a film that should probably end up in the “deny” pile. Directed by Peter Weitz (About a Boy) and starring Tina Fey, the film begins in the ivy-embellished halls of Princeton University. Fey plays Portia Nathan, a member of Princeton’s prestigious admissions department, where her job is to decide who, among thousands of applicants, gets in.

The film introduces Fey’s character as an uptight, play-by-the-rules, “boring” career woman, stuck in the same underwhelming job and uninspiring relationship.

As the yang to her yin, Paul Rudd plays John Pressman, a former college classmate of Portia and the over-the-top, free spirited principal of an alternative school out in the country. In John’s world, adventurous outside-of-the-box thinking, suspicion of institutions, and mastery of sustainable living are all intrinsic aspects of a good education. In McGill terms, John’s ideal school would be a mix of Macdonald Campus and Rad Frosh.

These two worlds collide when Portia stumbles upon John’s school on an admissions tour. John introduces her to Jeremiah Balakian (played by the charming Nat Wolf), a student prodigy and self-proclaimed “autodidact” with a shaky academic record, but nevertheless equipped with charisma and quirk. John is convinced that Jeremiah would succeed at a school like Princeton if given the chance, and that he may also be of particular personal interest to Portia.

Admission bravely wants to be a few different things. It definitely wants to be silly and lighthearted—the casting of Rudd and Fey as co-stars tells us that much. It wants to critique the rat-race nature of the U.S. university admissions process, which, as we see in the film, unfortunately degenerates into a game of whose application combines the most tear-jerking story with the best academic record. The irony is driven home without subtlety. In all its attempts at being holistic and all-examining, the U.S. admissions process does end up overlooking the real essence of the students it tosses into the accept or deny piles.

Admission wants to talk about the power of knowledge at a moment when a higher education doesn’t equate to employment, and more and more kids opt to travel and postpone university altogether. And it certainly, at its core, wants to be about that process of self-discovery, of finding oneself, and about believing in the oddball.

Unfortunately Admission’s comedic appendage feels forced, the plot is full of holes, and the characters seem shallow and overridden with cliché prototypes. Rudd, Fey, and newcomer Wolf had endearing moments, but Admission is oversaturated in sap and sweetness without any sustained heart. It does not outright fail in the themes it encounters, but we’ve all come to expect brilliance from Fey and Rudd. Admission should never have been admitted to the screen.

Admission is currently playing at Cineplex Banque Scotia (977 Ste-Catherine).