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Arts & Entertainment, Film and TV

Ethnographic filmmaking shines at FIFEQ

The Maison de la Culture de Cote-des-Neiges, and McCord Museum will host free screenings of the International Ethnographic Film Festival of Quebec (FIFEQ). This student-run festival of non-fiction filmmaking is celebrating its 15th year with its largest program ever, playing at UQAM, UdeM, Concordia, and McGill.

Created in 2003 by a group of anthropology students at UQAM and Concordia, FIFEQ has grown steadily, expanding to Quebec City. As it has grown, the festival has remained student-run, attracting passionate volunteers from all four major Montreal universities. One such student volunteer is Lydia Seo, U3 Cultural Studies, the McGill team coordinator for the festival.

“We’ve always tried to make it accessible to the public,” Seo said. “Our goal is just to share these films, we don’t have a judging panel or awards or prizes, we just want to share.”

Ethnographic films are non-fiction, but they are distinguished from normal documentaries by their connection to the anthropological practice of ethnography: the description of other cultures and practices.  

Anthropologists often write ethnographies as a means of theorizing about different aspects of society. Ethnographies can also be presented visually, as well. In ANTH 202: Socio-Cultural Anthropology, an introductory cultural anthropology course at McGill, students watched ethnographic films depicting subjects from burial rituals in India, to voodoo dancers in Haiti, to customers at an all-you-can-eat buffet in Las Vegas.

However, there are pitfalls to making films about foreign cultures.

“It’s important that the films are respectful towards the subject, and don’t exoticize them,” Seo said.

Respectful treatment of subjects was one of the criteria used to select films for the festival. This year, the coordinators of the film had to choose from 336 submissions—an indication of the festival’s growing importance. They ultimately narrowed these submissions down to 41.

Some films are 90 minutes or longer, the length of a full-length movie; others are very short. On April 10, UQAM is hosting a special feature of nine films less than six minutes in length. These films were made by Wapikoni Mobile, an indigenous film production company that focuses on indigenous issues.

The partnership with Wapikoni Mobile illustrates one of the festival’s stated themes for this year: “indigenous realities.”

Seo said that one of her favourite films at the festival is The Last of the Ice Hunters, depicting Inuits in Nunavut dealing with climate change and changing lifestyles. Another favourite is Living Here, which narrates the story of Martha Lucassie, a young Inuit woman, and her existence in the stark, but beautiful tundra.  

Five films will be shown at Maison de la Culture de Cote-des-Neiges on April 11 at 6 p.m., and five more on April 12 at 6 p.m. at the McCord museum, including Last of the Ice Hunters and Living Here. For those who love ethnographic films, FIFEQ is a rare opportunity to see so many at once. For those who are unfamiliar, it is a chance to become acquainted with a unique kind of cinema.

It is a chance, moreover, to become acquainted, if only briefly, with the daily realities of people around the world, living lives very different than that of a McGill undergrad. On the brink of finals season, it could provide a much-needed dose of perspective.

Arts & Entertainment, Theatre

‘Blood Relations’ is a haunting portrait of social isolation

Sharon Pollock’s award-winning play Blood Relations, currently showing at Moyse Hall, was directed by Professor Sean Carney and produced by the McGill Department of English. The story is a bone chilling, pulse-quickening, and thought-provoking examination of one of the most notorious cause célèbres in history.

Set in 1902, Blood Relations takes place 10 years after Borden (Sian Lathrop) was tried for the murder of her father and stepmother. Though she was acquitted, the story of her trial has become something of an urban legend in the town of Fall River, where Borden was born and raised. The entire play takes place within the Borden family estate, the ornate and lavish furnishings creating an appropriately eerie backdrop for her story to unfold.

One day, over a cup of tea one day with one of her few remaining friends—an unnamed actress from the city (played by Georgia Pearson)—Borden proposes that the two of them play a game in which she describes the days leading up to the murder, and the actress, who will assume the role of Lizzie, will act them out, in the hopes of revealing some hidden truth, and once and for all getting to the bottom of the million-dollar, decade-old question of whether or not Borden was truly guilty.

Both Lathrop and Pearson delivered spine-chilling performances while the entire cast seamlessly navigated the complex and challenging script. Visual and auditory effects were seamlessly employed throughout the play to provide a brooding, haunted atmosphere.  

Blood Relations is but one of several adaptations of Borden’s story. The murder mystery has been the subject of multiple made-for-TV films, songs, novels, and even a ballet, all of which imply Borden’s guilt. Most recently, Borden was portrayed by Chloe Sevigny in the 2018 film Lizzie, which premiered on Jan. 19 at the Sundance Film Festival.

“They don’t make movies about her being innocent,” Carney said in an interview with The McGill Tribune. “People want her to be a villain.”

Indeed, the version of the story in which Lizzie Borden is guilty is almost too good not to be true. Borden was said to be abrasive and eccentric—she resented her father and despised her stepmother. She was unmarried and socially isolated. When her tie to the family estate was in danger, she appeared to have little to lose and every motive to take drastic measures to secure her right to the family home. As far as most were concerned, Borden was a lonely, aging spinster with a temper and her livelihood on the line.

But Blood Relations depicts a more nuanced Borden than is often seen in popular culture. It suggests that Lizzie was a misunderstood woman, and that she was very much alone. Lizzie had few allies and even fewer friends. She was peculiar, acerbic, and isolated.

Arts & Entertainment, Music

How Osheaga fell prey to gentrification

Pulling big names like Arctic Monkeys, Florence + the Machine, ODESZA, Travis Scott and Tyler, the Creator for their 2018 edition, it’s cliché (but pretty much obligatory) to say that this is not the hippie-driven, muddy-camping festival envisioned by Woodstock’s creators.

Since transferring ownership to Evenko for its fifth edition in 2010, Osheaga has attracted big name sponsors, added gold and platinum ticket options, and pulled top 40 giants like Lana del Rey, The Weeknd, and Kendrick Lamar to headline. In 2016, the festival introduced Osheaga Play–a mixture of interactive activities and fairground rides that connect to RFID wristbands that allow festival goers to win prizes. The wristbands even allow photographers to snap pictures of attendees and upload them directly to their social media. It’s all very… Coachella.

Festival behemoth Coachella is notorious for its commercialization of the festival experience–with its celebrity guest list and reputation for trend-setting, fans show up to be seen having a good time with L.A.’s glitterati. Tickets range from USD $429 for general admission (GA) to $8,500 for a safari tent, which gets you entry to VIP areas, on-site concierge, and chauffeured golf course access among other.

Smaller festivals have watched Coachella target the one per cent and adjusted their prices accordingly. Some festivals realize that most people can’t afford their exorbitant prices—Bonnaroo now offers a payment plan for its most basic ticket, which comes to $337.50 plus fees.

Higher ticket prices mean festivals can afford bigger acts. This results in bigger sponsors and more revenue, which means next year’s festival can be even bigger. As festivals struggle to compete with this expansion, lineups become homogenised and lose their individuality. Everyone sets out with the goal of “bigger is better” and ends up with the same dozen headliners. Can’t make Osheaga? Tyler, the Creator, Post Malone, ODESZA, Portugal. the Man, St. Vincent, Chromeo, BØRNS, and BROCKHAMPTON, are all playing Coachella this year too.

It’s a self-perpetuating cycle—if festivals can promise big names, fans will pay more for tickets. This encourages festivals to seek out popular bands, which means looking at other festivals and seeing what’s making them money. Even Osheaga’s co-founder Nick Farkas admits to following trends, stating in 2015 in an interview with Billboard: “I’d imagine that pretty much every idea we’ve ever had we stole from someone else.”

With all the extras available, festivals have become social events as well as musical ones. Yet as festivals try to satisfy a smaller and smaller elite that can afford their three-figure day passes and caste-system perks, they lose out on the larger audience that can no longer afford—and is no longer interested in attending—today’s oversized festivals.

It’s not just the fans who are affected. Smaller bands can no longer compete for a spot at Osheaga if they’re already reserved for the same 50 acts currently on the festival circuit. Without large festival payouts, bands end up needing to tour more to make money. But touring also costs money; bands need a strong local base to start from before they can commit to playing shows outside of their city. This support comes from city and provincial arts funds, local talent promotion, and venues. Artists benefit most from community-oriented, not-for-profit organizations, such as POP Montreal.

Unlike Osheaga, POP Montreal has been committed to promoting local and international talent for the past 17 years. In addition to their annual five-day festival, POP promotes concerts year-round, holds stages at several festivals and organises gallery spaces and craft markets around Montreal. POP is not-for-profit, meaning the company’s focus is always on lineup quality and new talent promotion.

POP Montreal’s founder Dan Seligman believes that a city’s music scene is a delicate ecosystem. He breaks down some of the key issues of Montreal’s scene, starting with smaller venues’ licensing structures.

“When you’re a small performance space, you function differently than a bar that just sells alcohol, and that’s something that needs to be addressed,” Seligman said. “Smaller venues are set up as for-profit private companies but they function more in the realm of cultural, sometimes non-profit entities. Often smaller venues aren’t able to receive funding because they’re largely under the same jurisdiction as a bar.”

Seligman cites London as an example for Montreal to follow, where Mayor Sadiq Khan implemented a program to support small, grassroots venues that promote emerging talent. Khan believes in the transformative power of art and has invested more in London’s culture and creative industries than any of London’s previous mayors. Seligman believes that Montreal should adopt a similar program in order to preserve opportunities for bands that are starting out.

“There should be more of a long-term plan for the city, province, and potentially the federal government to support smaller venues,” Seligman said. “It would be beneficial for Montreal to look at how the various levels of government can support smaller venues that are important to small bands and emerging talent, because if there aren’t spaces to support these bands then the whole ecosystem is hurt. Smaller bands won’t become more popular and go on to play bigger venues like Club Soda or Metropolis.”

In light of recent closures, the need for governmental investment in Montreal’s arts and culture scene is more glaring than ever. Since streaming services and piracy have replaced CDs and actually paying for downloads, it’s more important than ever that emerging acts have access to performance spaces.

“Things have changed in terms of the ability to sell music,” Seligman said. “A lot of artists have to tour more, and the bigger corporate festivals end up being able to pay artists a lot more than they would normally be paid. It’s hard to not play a big festival when it [could be] such a big part of their income.”

The trick is getting big enough to be on the festival radar. Play Divan Orange enough times, and you get big enough to play Sala Rossa or Le Ritz, and then you can move on to Club Soda, and then Metropolis. By this point, ideally a band is big enough that Osheaga spots them and says, “Hey, come play our festival.” For bands that are already playing to crowds of 1000 people, this is easy enough—but for bands just starting out, venues like Divan Orange—set to close this spring—are necessary to get the word out and start building a fan base.

“It’s important to realize that there’s a greater ecosystem that supports music culture in a city,” Seligman said. “The city administration needs to figure out a way to support different levels of cultural participation. The bands that are headlining the big festivals start somewhere, so in order for them to get started, we need to be supportive.”

Arts & Entertainment, Books

Montreal’s vibrant zine community

Creative McGill students are building a niche community centred around zines—small-sized, low-circulation publications. Historically used as a tool for marginalized groups to publish content, zines house dialogue that does not ascribe to mainstream rhetoric. Now, groups of university students are using zines to address pertinent social and political issues.

On the McGill campus, students have used zines to start alternative conversations. For instance, F WORD Montreal is a biannual publication that was started in Winter 2014 by a group of like-minded McGill students frustrated by the lack of feminist publications on campus. Judy Huang, U3 Science and Immunology, has been part of the collective since 2015 and believes a close-knit community is central to zine culture.

“[The] heart of zine making is the community itself,” Huang said. “[Zines] are often more niche than literary magazines or scientific journals […which] makes [them] a really great platform to link students together […] to find other people who are interested in the same things.”

While the collective accepts members from all over Montreal, the F WORD community is mostly comprised of McGill undergraduate students. The publication features original visual and written content that discusses feminism, and holds launch parties for like minded individuals across the city.

“As a collective, we also hold events to celebrate and promote our zines,” Huang said. “We usually try to feature other Montreal artists, poets, musicians, and more.”

Though F Word is a venue for broadly feminist content, for many student associations, zines are a means to raise awareness for their unique mandate. McGill’s Office of Religious and Spiritual Life (MORSL), which aims to promote religious literacy on campus, has been publishing its own zine for 18 years. With five instalments per year, Radix collects student poetry, short fiction, visual art, and photography—all on the theme of religious literacy.

“As Radix is specifically designated by MORSL as McGill’s student spirituality magazine, we act as a medium for McGill’s creative body,” Radix editor Mackenzie Roop, U4 Arts, said. “In this way, Radix really serves a niche community.”

Roop aims for Radix to be a space for students to express their spiritual needs and conflicts. She believes zines are especially well-suited to this purpose, because zine-makers work outside of traditional publishing channels, allowing for more freedom in content and style.

“It feels good to be able to have a space for thoughts that seem to have no direct application [and] to recognize and work the inner perceptions and beliefs of one’s life, which are kept separate and thus often deemed ‘less important’ than professional or educational pursuit. It’s quite a magical and special safe space for all beliefs to come alive together, as a living and breathing process, but also a physical reality.”

While all of Radix’s issues dating back to 2000 can be accessed digitally on the MORSL website, Roop believes that the physicality of zines plays a role in their popularity.

“The translation of the invisible mental and emotional processes, God, [and] the spirit,[into the] physical has been [at] the forefront of human pursuits for millennia,” Roop said. “A zine is the very essence of this [translation].”

Roop’s broad definition is useful insofar as it pinpoints the expressive freedom of the medium. But because some zines are produced at a larger scale than others, the term “zine” can be an elusive classification. Zoe Shaw, U3 Arts, is an editor of The VEG, one of McGill’s student-run creative writing zines. She believes that the label comes with a certain flexibility.

“I’m not entirely sure what we would consider a zine,” Shaw said. “When I think of zines, I think of small handbound chapbooks, but of course, it can mean other things. To me, a zine is really what you make of it.”

The VEG, founded by McGill students 14 years ago, is based in the McGill Department of English and publishes student contributors’ prose and poetry alongside visual art. The current team has worked to make its issues smaller and more portable, which Shaw hopes makes the content feel approachable.

“One of our favourite things to do when we publish a new issue is to just leave it around everywhere,” Shaw said. “In the Department of English, we have all these debates about the materiality of texts. But it’s really fun to be able to read poems in a [small book] you can take out of your jacket pocket or [from] between the pages of your agenda.”

The VEG is primarily based at McGill […] but tries to foster connections outside of McGill and encourages alumni in Montreal to stay involved.  

“The founders really just wanted a place for younger readers and writers to be able to access the artistic work of the community at and around McGill,” Shaw said.  “We’ve had a McGill [alumnus] who is doing a graduate program at UM help out because he was in the neighbourhood. The VEG is really a community open to anyone who catches on, and can keep up with our schedule.”

As The VEG is open to submissions from all over the world, the zine has featured contributors from cities such as Toronto and Las Vegas. Shaw recalls one fond experience of communicating with an artist based outside of Montreal.

“The contributor was involved in the Toronto creative scene, but he was able to come  to the launch and perform,” Shaw said. “It was this pure moment of swapping between communities.”

The Department of English Student’s Association (DESA) recognized how zines bring individuals together by hosting a zine fair on campus earlier this semester. The student association elects a VP Journals & Affiliates every year, who works to strengthen connections between the English department and local literary publications.

Sylvie Schwartz, U3 Arts, is the outgoing DESA VP Journals. While she works primarily with academic journals, Schwartz believes that self-publishing is a crucial avenue for university students.

“I think self-publishing is mainly important because it showcases student work,” Schwartz said. “Especially at McGill, [which doesn’t have] a fine arts or creative writing program, self-published journals and other related organizations are the main resources for students to showcase their creative output.”

To discover new zines, McGill students can head over to Quebec Public Interest Research Group (QPIRG)-McGill at the corner of University and des Pins, which maintains an extensive zine library. However, zine culture extends far beyond the Roddick Gates. Since 2002, Montreal has hosted EXPOZINE, Canada’s largest annual comic, small press, and zine fair. With vendors sharing content produced in both English and French, EXPOZINE has been vital in creating a space in the Montreal community to showcase alternative publishing. Another downtown resource is ARTEXTE, a library, research centre, and exhibition collective which held a zine-making workshop at McGill in January 2018..

The burgeoning zine community speaks to the limits of traditional modes of publishing. For students plagued with dense syllabi, reading and making zines can be a unique source of comfort.  

“The low circulation of zines makes it easy for a person to put all of [themself] out there and express a degree of emotional vulnerability,” Huang said. “It really lends to a softer reading experience.”

For Shaw, reading zines on her way to campus has rekindled her interest in creative writing.

“I spend three hours commuting a day on public transit [and] it’s hard to just bring out my Norton Anthology of Shakespeare on the metro,” Shaw said. “I took some of the zines lying around in my house, and began reading them. [As] it is my last semester, it’s been really nice to get little snippets of poetry and short fiction and essays while I’ve been standing on the metro. It refreshes my mind, and reminds me why I read poetry.”

As finals season rears its ugly head, and textbooks and MyCourses tabs gather strength in numbers, leisurely reading can feel like a distant memory, and creative pursuits a long forgotten pipe dream. Picking up a zine can remind us that reading and writing don’t need to be dictated by a syllabus, rigorously edited and fuelled by caffeine—there is a whole community of zine makers and readers out there who are the very proof of that.

Album Reviews, Arts & Entertainment

Album Review: Unknown Mortal Orchestra’s ‘Sex & Food’

When Unknown Mortal Orchestra first appeared with a standalone online single in 2010, the identity of its creator was unknown, and an air of mystery surrounded the song. It featured an uncanny, lo-fi voice singing strange words over a psychedelic guitar riff, and a weird title, “Ffunny Ffriends.” Since then, they’ve released four critically-successful records, toured the world multiple times, and achieved indie hits with songs like “Multi-Love” and “So Good at Being in Trouble.” Yet throughout their growth in popularity and the development of their musical style, a feeling of mystery remains present in their music, permeating their newest album, Sex & Food, which was released on April 6.

Perhaps the mystery comes from the distortion and layering frequently applied to the voice of lead singer and songwriter, Ruban Nielson. From song to song, his identity changes—at times, his voice resembles a transmission from a distant alien planet, sent to deliver an enigmatic message. The album’s lyrics contain such enigmas as “Awoke with long fingernails / In the internet of love.”

Distortion is not limited to the vocals. Nielson’s guitar reverbs, floats, scratches, and sings, depending on the song. Nielson has always been a talented guitarist, and on songs like “The Internet of Love,” his virtuosity takes centre stage. On “Hunnybee,” a hypnotic riff repeats beneath every verse until the solo, when his toned-up electric guitar slashes through the peaceful background like a bolt of lighting.

Then, in the middle of the album, there is “Chronos Feasts on his Children,” a short, stripped-back number where the distortion recedes and we are left with Nielson’s raw voice and guitar. In an album so thick with processing, the song is a breath of fresh air, and the emotion delivered beneath the characteristically surreal lyrics is direct.

What makes Sex & Food a success, is that every song contains an emotion: A real feeling. After multiple listens, it is these emotions which rise to the surface, gasping, beneath the layers of alien guitar fuzz.

Arts & Entertainment, Film and TV

Dollar Cinema provides a hospitable filmgoing experience

There’s a lot you can get for $2.50. A small Iced Capp from Tim Hortons costs that much. But at a movie theatre, $2.50 doesn’t go very far—it might buy you a bag of fuzzy peaches. At Dollar Cinema, however, a two-screen theatre located in the Decarie Square mall, second-run movies show for $2.50. At this bargain price, Dollar Cinema has become an unlikely haven for the many who stumble across its neon-lit marquee and $1 buttered popcorn.

Bernie Gurberg, a former garment manufacturer and one-time mayoral candidate, opened Dollar Cinema in 2004. When the old Cineplex Odeon in Decarie Square closed, Gurberg set up shop, aiming to showcase current films at budget rates to make theatre-going a more affordable experience. Besides showing new releases, Gurberg also makes a point of having special screenings for classic films, such as Pulp Fiction,  at a higher price of $5.

Dollar Cinema fills the gap that corporate movie theatres have left. With increasingly high ticket prices, it’s hard for the everyday family to simply go to the movies. Tickets at the Scotiabank Theatre cost $13.50 for an adult, and $8.99 for a child, whereas a family of four can see a movie at Dollar Cinema for $10.00.

Lorenzo (who asked to be identified only by his first name), a frequent patron of Dollar Cinema, works with special needs children and finds that Gurberg’s low prices make for the perfect outing.

“[I’ve been here] about a thousand times,” Lorenzo said. “Every Saturday since it opened [….] It’s a learning experience for [the kids] because they have sensory problems [….] I can come here and […] it’s inexpensive […] so instead of going to Famous Players where it’s a more chaotic environment, here it’s more affordable, and the parents are [comfortable] with it.”

What makes Dollar Cinema special is how accessible it is—families, newly immigrated ones in particular, make up most of Gurberg’s clientele. Customer loyalty is hardly a factor for corporate theatres such as Cineplex. Gurberg, however, matches his community’s dedication with his own dependability.

“It’s affordable, and we’re not as similar to the other cinemas in the sense that I’m here, meaning that I talk to everybody […] so I […] know so many more people than I would in the ordinary standard way, working in an office,” said Gurberg. “[I’ve been meeting] a lot of people, every day, for the past 14 years.”

Dollar Cinema is open every day until midnight, every day of the year, including holidays, and Gurberg is there for almost every showtime. In the fringes of Montreal, Gerberg has created a community of moviegoers, as dedicated to him as he is to them.

“It’s successful, but with the prices being as low as they are, the rent being high in a shopping mall, causes it not do well financially, but my heart and soul are getting the extra satisfaction,” Gurberg said.

Dollar Cinema is located near Namur metro station on 6900 Decarie Boulevard.

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