Our Friends Online

Our friend Frank, who kindly put us up when we first arrived in La Belle Province was recently featured on Radio Canada Telejournal news magazine as part of a series about Park Extension, one of the more dangerous neighborhoods in Montreal. Frank is a cop and Park Ex., as it is known, is his beat. I've posted a link to the video here so you can see what Frank looks like, but please note the clip is entirely in French.

Roast Chicken Review: St-Hubert's

Please see part 1 of this series for the backstory and criteria.

In many ways this is the review that L. is dreading because St-Hubert's is his favourite restaurant ever and I am notoriously not that big a fan. I will go so far as to say that I do prefer dining in to take out and their coleslaw is pretty good.

Chicken: Skin was more chewy than crispy and very salty. The meat wasn't that dry, but very mealy -- a quality I detest in chicken. 6/10

Fries: Colder and greasier than I remember them. Must be a side effect of having had to wait an hour for the delivery guy. 4/10

Coleslaw: Warmer and soggier than the dine in variety which I quite enjoy. In fact, I generally do not like coleslaw, but their original vinegarette style is usually refreshing and delicious. I will give them the benefit of the doubt on this one because of the delivery delay. 7/10

Gravy: Thin, very salty and a little spicy. The spice would normally seal it for me, but the salt content kind of skeeves me out. 5/10

Biscuit: The St-Hubert's "biscuit" has always been a bit of a mystery to me. Tell me it doesn't look exactly like the bottom of a McDonald's bun that's been squished:


Barely edible, even with St-Hubert's Sauce. 2/10


Overall score: 24/50

First Storm of the Year

Looks like the weather's been playing havoc with everybody's life.

In other news, I bought a hat with ear flaps. It keeps me warm.

Busy Weekend + Good News

My apologies to those of you who were expecting daily updates. Last week was a bit of a blur due to L.'s very good friend Brendan being in town (different Brendan, for those of you in Van.) Below are a few of the highlights. The ones I can remember anyways.

Wednesday, November 21st
Brendan arrives late in the evening, a little shell-shocked by the snow and cold. This was to be expected as he currently resides in San Jose, CA (although he grew up in Newfoundland). Sadly, L. had to crawl into bed shortly after Brendan arrived, but I stayed up and talked with him for another 2 hours.

Thursday, November 22nd
Continuing my efforts to get to know one of L.'s best friends I invited Brendan to breakfast before his meeting with a local software company. I started to feel a little bad about dragging him through the snow in order to get to one of our new favourite haunts, Coco Gallo. Montreal is covered with all day breakfast restaurants & diners. We are within a ten minute walk of about 5 places I can think of right off the top of my head and that doesn't even include big chains like Chez Cora. After a leisurely late brunch, Brendan hoped in a cab and I went about my daily routine of grocery shopping and laundry.

After L. got off work we opted, for logistical reasons, to order in some St. Hubert's rotisserie chicken (review pending) instead of making the trek downtown to an actual restaurant. It was also decided that instead of venturing to St. Sulpice we would instead head to Vices & Versa, the excellent bar specializing in local microbrews that Alain introduced us to a few weeks ago.

However, even on a Thursday night, Vices & Versa was packed. We then opted to just venture down St-Laurent towards the Plateau as we were sure to find something before long. After some minor drama hooking up with Mark who had already beaten us to St-Sulpice we opted for a weird little bar called Bar Taverna VV. It was empty when we got there, but quickly filled with an eclectic mix of young women playing pool, local winos and a long haired guy in a suit out to get his dance on. A few beers and many laughs at the expense of the dancing guy later we excited back into the snow and L. made sure that Mark got safely into a cab home.

Friday, November 23rd
Fortuitously, L. had already booked the day off, so we all went out to another one of our local breakfast haunts. Brendan had another meeting that afternoon, so we opted to put off shopping until Saturday. L. and I got to take a much needed nap before tidying the house for our party Saturday and then I got to make a pork chop dinner for Brendan and Mark. After dinner we all jumped into a cab downtown to Le Boite de Karaoke, where we were all older than the KJ. This was the Montreal Karaoke debut for L. and I, so we opted to stick to the tried and true. L. did a little Tainted Love and a surprisingly faithful cover of Jessie's Girl. I stuck with China Girl and Ballroom Blitz and I even got to do Love Shack with Mark's wife Andrea (I was Kate Pierson to her Fred Schneider).

Saturday, November 24th
Yet another breakfast out. I opted to add a breakfast smoothie in order to get some much needed vitamins. We then accompanied Brendan out to Plaza St-Hubert, which is basically an outdoor shopping mall that spans about four blocks on both sides. I like it because it's such a bizarre mix of shops and services. High-end bridal boutiques are next to outlet shoe stores and not far from sex shops and places that sell hooker shoes with sparkly mud-flap girls on them. But, it is also home to some great little local shops like Les Delires du Terroir which specializes in artisan beers from Quebec as well as local cheeses and preserves. After striking out on finding some souvenir t-shirts, Brendan wisely opted to have a gift-basket made up here. I stayed to help him pick-out the contents and buy some goat Camembert for the party, while L. headed back to apartment to wait for Frank who was arriving early with another of our recent passions: Guitar Hero III.

After deciding that the maple syrup options at Delires were not sufficient I offered to walk Brendan through the Jean-Talon Market as the selections would be much better. After jokingly suggesting that Brendan purchase a bison rib from a kiosk at the market, he instead ordered several for the boys at home as well as a selection of game-meat sausages. We also managed to find maple syrup in a tin shaped like a sugar-shack. Perfect.

While L. went to fetch more snacks, I played guitar hero with the boys and Frank helped me hang the curtains in the living room. The party itself was very well attended, especially considering we don't really know that many people here yet. I even got to catch up with my friend Chris from Cinemuerte in Vancouver.

Being that Brendan had to be at the airport by 6 AM on Sunday, I opted to say my goodbyes before going to bed around 3 AM. All in all, not nearly as nerve racking a visit as I had feared. And who knows, maybe we will accompany him to Newfoundland this summer.

Which brings me to my Good News: The sample profiles I did for Montrealplus.ca were very well received and I have been offered eight more profiles to do for December 11th. While not enough to live on by itself, it'll certainly take the edge off while I look for more freelance gigs. Yeah me.

More Snow!

It's official. Vancouver is a city full of wimps. I actually get to experience a city that doesn't go into panic mode at the sight of the first snowflake. There are teams of trucks pushing the snow off the street all day long. The streets are full of people, on foot and in cars. Our neighbors even shoveled our walkway for us while they were out there, instead of just dumping their snow on our steps!

Roast Chicken Review: Coq au Bec (Part One of a Continuing Series)

First off, a little background:

Not long after I met L. he began extolling to me the virtues of a Quebequois institution known as St Hubert. It's a chain of restaurants specializing in roast chicken and ribs and doesn't really exist much outside of Quebec (although I understand there are a couple in Ontario, but that's about it). I had initially assumed that this obsession with roast chicken was just another one of L.'s quirks, a personal fetish nourished by happy childhood memories of meals out with his mom. But no. On our visit in July it quickly became apparent that this obsession was not unique to L. People in Quebec really like their roast chicken, often referred to as "Montreal style rotisserie chicken". It doesn't matter where you go in Montreal, you will be within walking distance of roast chicken. Even the shwarma places offer the option of half a roast chicken.

And so I decided that despite not really caring for roast chicken (too dry and mealy for my tastes) I would strive to rate the various roast chicken options as fodder for my blog. In order to make sure the comparisons are fair, only the traditional chicken breast dinner will be rated. In most cases, a dinner consists of five parts: the chicken, french-fries, gravy, a biscuit & coleslaw. Each part will be rated individually on a scale of one to ten, adding up to a total score out of 50.

First up is Coq au Bec

Chicken: Surprisingly moist and flavourful. Not too greasy. The skin was crisp, salty and spicy in just the right combination. Overall, kinda delicious. 8/10

Fries: A whole different story. Greasy, squishy and obviously fresh from the freezer. Could even have been imported potatoes (for shame!) Reminds me of the fries I ate at the ice-rink concession stand as a child. 4/10

Coleslaw: A little on the scary side. Basically just weak, hair-like strands of cabbage, with a sneezing of carrot thrown in for colour; floating in a sour vinegar marinade. 2/10

Gravy: Not too salty or too spicy. Good, thick consistency that sticks well to the fries. Easily the best part, next to the chicken. 8/10

Biscuit: Tasteless white roll. Cold, but edible with a bit of gravy. 3/10

Overall score: 25/50

Snow!

It snowed last night. About 5 cm, although most of it got rained away. Apparently there's going to be more tomorrow and Thursday. L. doesn't even have boots yet...

Hobbies

Here in Quebec there is a concept known as "terroir". This is similar to the French concept of terroir which is used mostly when speaking of wine and is meant to refer to the geographic area where the wine was produced. Each terroir has certain innate qualities associated with it, which are thought to influence the resulting wine.

However, in Quebec the term is used a little more generally and with a lot more pride. "Les produits des terroirs" can describe anything that is produced locally and with local ingredients. There are "vins du terroir" (native wines), "bieres du terroir" (local micro or artisan brews), "fromages du terroir" (native cheeses) and even a genre of literature: "romans du terroir". Because many in Quebec see themselves as belonging to a distinct culture (and in some cases, a distinct country), such products are celebrated with a good deal of pride as they represent something uniquely quebecois.

It goes even further than that though, because "terroir" not only implies where something is produced, it can also be used to describe how it is produced. In many ways Quebec still sees itself as a land of humble farmers who live off the land and so "terroir" can also imply a sort of folky, home-made quality.

Which leads me to the subject of hobbies. Apparently, L. and I have both been inspired by the spirit of the land as we are both pursuing hobbies involving handcrafted food/drink stuffs. See, being that I am still mostly unemployed I have a lot of free time during the day, and being that we are pinching pennies, I have decided to start making my own bread. L., on the other hand, is taking inspiration from his friend Alain and is going to experiment with brewing his own beer.

So, because I've been meaning to bring my love of food to this blog for a while I have included my own recipe for Honey Wheat and Flax Bread:
1 Cup Soymilk (unsweetened)
1/2 Cup water
1 Heaping tablespoon active dry yeast (or 2 packets)
2 Tablespoons Olive Oil
1 Tablespoon honey (the darker the better)
1 Teaspoon salt
1/4 Cup Brown Flax Seeds
3 Cups Organic Whole Wheat Bread Flour + aprx 1/2 cup more

1. In a glass measuring cup, heat water & soymilk in the microwave for about 40 seconds until it is a little warmer than lukewarm. Be careful, if it is too hot it will kill the yeast.
2. Pour the liquid into a large mixing bowl and add the honey, olive oil, salt and yeast. Stir gently to combine everything and then let the bowl sit for about 10-20 minutes in a nice warm place (I like the top of the stove, especially if the oven is pre-heating).
3. Take the flax seeds and give them a quick whir in a blender. Reserve.
4. When the liquid in the bowl is covered by a think layer of yummy foam, give it a stir with a fork and add the flax seeds, then start adding flour, one cup at a time.
5. When the dough is too tough to stir with the fork, get your hands in there and keep adding flour by the handful until it will no longer stick to a clean finger.
6. Form the dough into a ball in the bowl, then cover the bowl with a hot, damp tea-towel and leave it somewhere warm. (Again, I like the stove).
7. After about an hour, the dough should be about double the size it was when you left it. Pre-heat the oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit. Take the dough out of the bowl and knead it a couple of times on a lightly floured surface. Then, take a sharp knife and cut the dough into two equal portions.
8. Form both dough lumps into loaves by tucking everything under.
9. Lightly oil two bread pans, pop one loaf into each pan and let them sit on top of the stove for another 15 - 20 minutes.
10. toss the loaf pans in the oven for about 35-45 minutes.
11. The bread is ready when you can knock on the bottom of the loaf and you hear a hollow sound. Take the loaves out of the pans and cool them on a wire rack.
12. Enjoy with a liberal dollop of homemade jam.

In Case You Didn't Know

I know I'm a little late on this one, but I thought I'd give a shout out regarding the new Cinema Sewer book that FAB Press just put out a little while ago. It's a revised collection of all 12 issues, plus 100 pages of comics, interviews and other cool stuff. The perfect gift for the trash-hound on your Xmas list...

Update 2

So we finally did manage to get internet hooked up, minutes before L. got on the phone with Primus to scream bloody murder about their lousy service. Turns out they had forgotten to send us our modem. Then they sent us two. Luckily they were kind enough to give me the tracking numbers so that I knew which one to refuse when they finally showed up.

We completed our final trip to Ikea (again, with the very gracious Isabelle) over the weekend and have only one more room (the office, of course) to finish setting up before L.'s friend B. comes to visit. I am a little nervous because B. is the only one of L.'s close friends I have yet to meet. I'm sure it'll be fine, but I have been warned to expect non-stop giggling from the pair of them.

Update

Things are going well. We have been living in the apartment full time since my last post. Things are finally settling down to the point where I can start looking for a job (wish me luck), although I'm thinking of getting something part-time and then supplementing that with freelance writing gigs.

KC has been living with us for just over a week and he has already started to take liberties. Our brand new sofa bed is already quite scratched up in the back and my air plant is down to half its size.

We will be getting internet in the apartment in the next week or so, so my updates will be much more regular and hopefully I'll be able to get started on some of my feature ideas, as well as finally post some of my pictures.

Our First Week in Montreal

Sorry I haven't been updating this as regularly as I would like. The last week has been very crazy and I haven't had a block of time to dedicate to blogging about it all... until now.

Day 1: Monday, October 1
After spending a relatively relaxing weekend with my parents in was time to load K.C. into his carrier yet again and make the trek out to the airport. Luckily we had time to enjoy a nice lunch with my mom when we got there and I only cried a little when my dad called to apologize for not being able to see us off is person.

Our flight on Monday was surprisingly uneventful, the cat having made it through security faster than we did (actually, we carried him through the metal detector in our arms while the carrier went through the x-ray machine). It turns out K.C. had actually been one of three cats on that particular flight and managed not to make a peep the entire way over.

Upon arriving at Frank's house in Blainville K.C. was quickly sequestered in the basement so that he wouldn't be eaten by Frank's chocolate lab, Jigger. After a sleepless night for L. listening to Jigger pushing against the bedroom door we decided that the best option after all was to leave him with our friends Marc & Andrea downtown.

Day 2: Tuesday, October 2
Being that we'd both had fitful sleeps we opted to lounge in bed as long as possible and spend the day doing as little as possible. It is unseasonably warm in Montreal, 25C+. L. and Frank spent much of the day constructing Frank's new wall-unit/desk-thing and I tried not get crushed by Jigger, who really seems to enjoy having a girl in the house. Frank was still off work so he took us to do a mini grocery and I marveled at how much lower food prices are out here. Even at the corner store we managed to find our brand of soy milk for $1.00 less. I also got lots of ideas for a series on Quebequois foods (cretons, tortiere, cheese curds) that I'll get started on once we have regular net access. The evening was spent shuttling K.C. to Marc's place, but we still got back to Blainville in time for me to catch the last half of the Tudors (yeah!).

Day 3: Wednesday, October 3
Our plan had been to get up super early, cruise the net for apartment listings and spend the afternoon looking at places. Being that I was still only sleeping in 2 hour increments with 3 hour awake periods we didn't really get started until about noon. However, after only 10 calls we had six (!) appointments for the next two days. A very sharp contrast from trying to place in Vancouver.

We jumped onto the commuter train and got to enjoy "les couleurs" on our way into town. The first place we looked at turned out to be way too small for a couple, but rent was only $550. The next place we looked at, a block and a half away was perfect. It's a little north of the Plateau in the Little Italy neighborhood, but within walking distance of everything we need, including a SAQ and Home Depot. We have a choice of three Metro stations, all less than a ten minute walk and we have mini balconies in the front and back. It's the ground floor of Montreal style triplex with French doors in the bedroom and my mind is already racing with thoughts of barbecues and herb gardens.

The only catch is that the last tenant left most of his stuff and it doesn't really look like he'd bothered to clean anything in about 5 years. Also, he was a smoker, which means we'll have to wash and paint all the walls. Our landlord is a pretty chill dude who seemed most interested in having cool down to earth tenants. The neighborhood is very safe and peaceful and we are right across the street from a park. Pictures are pending.

The day ended with rotisserie chicken (review also pending) and the season opener for the Habs. I quickly realized I am going to have to make peace with being a hockey widow because there is really no escaping it here.

Day 4: Thursday, October 4
A pretty uneventful day. Frank had to work in the afternoon so we just puttered around the house and I cruised for furniture online. Accidentally placed an order online with Ikea, but opted to cancel it and go in person to see if that would yield a better delivery time. We realized that if we were able to get even just a sofa bed we would be able to start staying in the apartment right away, instead of waiting until our stuff (read: bed) arrived on the 29th. Decided to spend the weekend downtown since we'd be able to stay with L's cousin Annie who lives within a 10 minute walk of the apartment.

Day 5: Friday, October 5
Arrived downtown and went straight to Annie's place. She told us where the Home Depot was and she and her girl friend immediately offered to help us with groceries, trips to Ikea, painting etc. I am still getting used to the hospitality here, but I have to say it is growing on me and I'm very anxious to get the apartment set-up so I can start returning the favour. It turned out that Annie and Mel were going camping for the weekend so we had the run of the loft. We went for breakfast and then straight to the apartment. It was still full of crap and we started to get depressed. Opted to go to Home Depot while waiting for the landlord to come by to settle the remaining rent and to do something about all the stuff. Started cleaning the kitchen while the landlord and his friend hauled stuff onto the street.

Eventually left to go see K.C. at Marc's house and perhaps accompany Marc to some Pop Montreal shows. It turned out that Marc had a bunch of tickets to see Patti Smith play in a church so we went for dinner on St. Denis and then got lost on our way to the church, but it was okay because the show was half an hour late starting. Outside the venue I ran into an ex-coworker from Videomatica. Turned out he had also opted to moved back because of the cost of living issue. Waited at least 20 minutes in a never ending bathroom line-up that eventually rebelled and started using the guy's bathroom as well. I laughed as the women ahead of me quizzed all the indie rock dudes on whether they were using the urinal or the stall and then informed them that we'd taken their stalls. The show was very good, if a little "crunchy-granola" at times and we returned to Annie's loft for some much needed sleep.

Day 6: Saturday, October 6
The weather had suddenly changed and it was grey and drizzly and cold. Annie & Mel were still determined to go camping, but bullied L. into calling his friend Isabelle to see if she could give us a lift to Ikea since apparently the bus takes hours. Isabelle was predictably excited about an Ikea trip and we met her for breakfast nearby to catch up.

After fighting some typical Montreal weekend traffic we finally made it to Ikea around 1:00PM. Let's just say that Ikea on a Saturday afternoon when it's rainy is the same in Montreal as it is in any other city around the world: not unlike the seventh level of hell. We had to line up for everything: line up to check availability, line up to order, line up to pay, line up to pick up our order... and on, and on. Worst of all we couldn't even get our sofa bed because they didn't have any mattresses. Not one. In the entire store. We would have to wait until the following Thursday, call to make sure they had what we wanted in stock, then go to the store to buy it, then arrange to have it delivered.

Luckily we did manage to find a little table with flaps that we could raise and lower to make it bigger of smaller, some chairs and a few cheap knick-knacks. But I think I'm going to have to heavily sedate L. if we ever go back.

Next, Isabelle was kind enough to take us to Home Depot so we could get some more cleaning supplies. I also picked up some paint for the kitchen and the office and some bulbs for out front.

We said goodbye to Isabelle, did a bit more cleaning, grabbed some dinner and then crawled back to Annie's so that L. could watch the hockey game and I could pass out.

Day 7: Sunday, October 7
Got a call from Annie & Mel. They were freezing and decided to cut their camping trip short so we made plans to join them for dinner at St. Hubert's. Finally got a hold of L.'s dad since he was supposed to be in town at his girlfriend's daughter's place just outside of Montreal. We made plans to have lunch there in the afternoon on Monday so we could still spend the evening eating roast chicken with Frank back in Blainville.

Cleaned the apartment a bit more (we're almost done the kitchen!) and called Isabelle to invite her to join us all for dinner as she had expressed interest on Saturday. After gorging on roast chicken we all decided we were too tired to party any more and called it a night. We chilled at the loft with Annie and Mel and watched Occupation Double, probably the dumbest reality show I have ever seen. Imagine a cross between Big Brother & Blind Date and you're half-way there. Only it's French, so there's cameras in all the bedrooms and they don't censor as much.

Day 8: Monday, October 8
At Annie and Mel's suggestion we went out to Brault & Martineau to try to find a sofa bed. Managed to find one very similar to what we'd been looking for at Ikea, only nicer, for the same price plus free shipping. Met up with Caroline and L.'s father James and went back to Caroline's house for lunch. Caroline and Nicole were very excited about our apartment and we all got to swap decorating tips.

In the car back to Montreal I started to feel very tired all of a sudden and it wasn't until we met Frank at the Metro station that I realized I had a mild case of the flu. Missed my roast chicken dinner because I was sleeping and then called my parents as they were sitting down to dinner to wish them a happy Thanksgiving.

Movies I Watched Instead of Writing: C.R.A.Z.Y. & Control

Sorry I haven't been updating this as regularly as I would have liked, but the last week has been a never ending cavalcade of packing, cleaning and last minute socializing. However, we did manage to sneak a couple of movies in there as well.

C.R.A.Z.Y. This 2005 film was a monster hit in Quebec and apparently one in eight Quebequers saw it in theatres. It also swept the Genies that year and had been on our to watch list for a while. So, in an attempt to further psych ourselves up for the move we decided to finally give it a chance. And I am very glad we did. Backed by an awesome period soundtrack (which apparently ate up most of the budget), C.R.A.Z.Y. tells the story of the Beaulieu family, a fairly average French Catholic family and their "exceptional" second youngest son, Zachary. See, while all four boys are very different, Zack is the wrong kind of different, the kind that alienates him for much of his childhood from his macho father (an excellent Michel Côté). The highlights of the film were definitely the performances, particularly Côté, Danielle Proulx as the mother and Marc-André Grondin as Zachary. I also recommend checking out this excellent CBC article.

Control If you've known me for any length of time you know that I am a HUGE diehard Joy Division fan, so when Beej informed me that the Ian Curtis biopic was playing at this year's VIFF, I had to squeeze it into the schedule, no matter what. And I have to admit that I was very apprehensive when I heard that Tony Wilson and Deborah Curtis had finally giving the project the go ahead, but the fact that they were basing the film on Deborah's heartbreaking book was some consolation. I also admit to having mixed feelings about Anton Corbijn as the director. Sure, it was fairly common knowledge that his move to England in the 1970's was inspired by Ian and Joy Division's music, but I have to say that I was not all that impressed by his music video output. While his grainy black and white esthetic is iconic, it doesn't really showcase a lot of depth or dramatic development.

However, all my fretting was for nought. Control is a beautiful, powerful, and very good film. Comparisions to Saturday Night, Sunday Morning are certainly appropriate as Macclesfield is a working class town and Joy Division was a working class band. Samantha Morton does a marvelous job as Debbie, never falling into the trap of playing the victim or the shrew, instead emphasizing her love for Ian and her initial starteling innocence. Sam Riley is also incredible as Ian, an ambitious but fragile man worn down by fate and his own fickle wants.

My other favourite preformances include Toby Kebbell as Rob Gretton, Craig Parkinson as Tony Wilson and Joe Anderson as a delightfully crabby Peter Hook.

The naturalistic and heartbreaking performances are aided by several directorial choices, including the use of a stark black and white portrait which both conveys the spirit of the kitchen sink dramas of the 1960s and allows Corbijn to best demontrate his painterly photographic style. Corbijns framing and use of shadows tell stories where the dialogue is absent, particularly in the way he frames those around Ian and Annik when they are together: backs turned perfectly away, but present and compliant none the less.

The other surprisingly effective trick employed by Corbijn was to have the actors to play their own instruments during the concert scenes. Because Joy Divisions music is not technically difficult, the difference in their playing is barely noticeable, but the immediacy and energy their playing brings to their scenes makes it incredibly easy to understand how they became popular so quickly. While Sam Rileys melodic tennor can be distrancting to those accustomed to Ian Curtis haunting mono-baritone, the power with which he sings conveys the character perfectly.

My only complaint is that because the film is such a slow burn, for those already intimate with Curtis story, it does seem to drag at times. And yet, eventhough we all know how the film has to end, it is even more heartbreaking than we could have imagined.

Bad Timing?

A study released on Wednesday by the Quebec Community Groups Network doesn't really seem to bode that well for me. According to the study, Anglos in Montreal are a dying breed and they need to better work together to make sure their needs are met. An earlier version of the story which I can no longer locate online quoted unemployment for Anglo Montrealers at close to 10% (although the sample group referenced was only 400 people). They also say that many Anglos do not have access to English speaking health care professionals. Among other recommendations, including better cooperation between English school boards, they suggest that Anglo Montrealers try to brush up on their French.

As for why some Anglos are having trouble finding health care professionals, I found this report about a dentist in Quebec who speaks four languages, including English and French, who is being denied a permanent license because he failed a French written exam. Four times.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

So, you've probably noticed that I haven't written on my blog in a long time. There are many reasons for this, time being one of them, lack of inspiration being another, and let's not forget the devastating blows my self-esteem have taken in the last couple of years. It's hard to say anything with conviction when you don't really want to get out of bed.

Well, in an effort to tackle at least two of these problems I decided to indulge another romantic fantasy, slightly less costly and not nearly as legally binding as my last one. In a mere 11 days, I am boarding a plane for Montreal. And it's a one way ticket.

I will have two companions along for the ride, my fabulous Quebecois beau, L, and my pretty (even the vet said so) male cat K.C. (a.k.a. Bitey). All we need to do is find me a job & all of us an apartment.

I have long fantasized about starting over, just ditching everything and going to a new city. You have to admit it's a fantastically romantic idea, and I am a true Pisces. Now I find myself on the brink of doing just that, and I have to admit, it's kinda terrifying. It's hard for me to expect sympathy for my fear. This was, after all, my idea, and I know that I'll be fine. I guess it's just the mountain of boxes is making me realize this is real. Which means I am about to leave my family (I have never lived more than 30 minutes from my parents) and my friends to start life in a province where I will be a minority, not because of my race but because of my mother tongue.

As much as I think that I will be more at home on the East Coast, there will be a learning curve. While I do speak (pretty good by most accounts) French, I am still lacking confidence speaking it to strangers, although L keeps insisting that I will be perfectly bilingual in a matter of months. So, in addition to film I am going to start blogging all things Quebec, mostly because Quebecois culture has fascinated me ever since I was crowned Duchess of my kindergarten class during our version of Winter Carnival (I went to a French Immersion school).

Of all the places we could be going, Montreal makes sense for a host of reasons:

- Allegedly they get more sun than Vancouver and being that I am affected by S.A.D., this seems like a good thing
- The arts seem to be better supported, both my the government and by the public
- The bars are open until 4 AM
- They will pay me to have a baby
- I have a better chance of running into Jean-Nicholas Verrault
- I already promised Jeremy Knox I would help him review at next year's Fantasia Festival
- I can already cook tourtiere, cretons, and tarte au sucre
- I really want to go to Carnival for my birthday and it's easier to drive there from Montreal

Wish me luck.

Movies I Watched Instead of Writing: Grindhouse

WARNING: CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS & WHINY RANTING

Being that I’ve been running a monthly series of trash film double bills, inspired by the festival circuit and the old grindhouse era, it was pretty much a requirement that I see this film. Or these films, as a couple of our buddies figured out after three hours on their butts.

Now, it would be pretty easy to sit back and be all jaded about this project. Let’s face it, Tarantino isn’t exactly known as Mr. Original and I’m slowly learning that I’m actually only a little bit behind him on the trendy curve. Rodriguez I’ve regarded as consistently fresher, but his insistence on doing everything himself had resulted in a couple of sloppy outings (Spy Kids 3D & Once Upon a Time in Mexico, I’m looking at you) recently. However, I really liked Grindhouse. It did everything I wanted it to, it played to the audience and it made going to the movies an event. Even the fake trailers in between the films were super fun. It’s a tribute to an era and it manages to take what each director loved about that era and craft it into something distinctly theirs.

In many ways I feel that Rodriguez was more successful than Tarantino in this endeavor. He wore his influences on his sleeve, with hard boiled characters and pitch-perfect acting. His offering, Planet Terror, clips along at the breakneck pace Rodriguez is known for, but he still has time to introduce us to a great array of oddball characters and somehow manages to build sympathy for them. It’s heavy on the gross-out, but has a ludicrously endearing love story. It’s filled with jaw dropping performances, from Jeff Fehey to Josh Brolin to especially Rose McGowan. Freddy Rodriguez is an unlikely but wholly convincing action star and Michael Parks kicks fucking ass.

Death Proof on the other hand, spends so much time smashing you over the head with the fact that it’s a “Quentin Tarantino Movie” that the mood he managed to create was sadly overshadowed for me. I say sadly because, (and this is probably one of the more embarrassing things I will ever admit to the internets,) the teenage me adored him to the point where I had actually constructed a Q.T. mini-shrine in my high-school agenda planner. The other thing that is sad about my reaction to the Quentin film is that because he played it straighter, instead of loading on the one-liners and gore, he had the opportunity to make a truly great piece of trash. But no, it became the “I-think-Austin-is-cool-I-know-lots-about-old-movies-and-TV-shows-oh-and-did-you-know-I-like-UK-garage-now-Quentin-fucking-Tarantino-show”. The car chase at the end did kick fucking ass, though.

Really, what it came down to for me were the characters. While Rodriguez did play it more tongue in cheek, he created characters you could root for, even if everything was painted so broadly you couldn’t really identify with anybody. The only person I wanted to identify with in Death Proof was Stuntman Mike, but his smug swagger disappeared halfway through the film and we were left with nothing but another group of self-involved girls. I don’t care if one group was the hunted and one was the hunters. Same loudmouthed pretentious bitches, different pile.

I want to say something here about misogyny, but I know I have to be very careful because accusing a film of being misogynist can be a very reactionary thing to do. When you are dealing with a film about a man who stalks and murders women, misogyny just kind of goes with the territory. The story wouldn’t work as well without the objectification and subjugation of women and trust me; I am the last person to go on a feminist rant about a movie like this. However, as ballsy as Mr. Tarantino wants to think he is, in Death Proof it felt half-assessed and irresponsible. I understand that by having a group of chicks turn the tables on the lady killer he was trying to excuse his earlier glamourization of brutality against women. This despite the fact that our “heroines” leave one of their own (albeit not a bright one) to get raped so that they can go out joyriding. Okay, so that might be a stretch. At no point is it made explicit that chicky-poo in the cheerleaders outfit is going to get raped. But if it had really been a grindhouse exploitation film, she would have been. That is my point.

My other point is that if you are going to have male stomping she-heroines, make them interesting. I’m talking Tura Satana style psycho-cool. While the decision to kill stuntman Mike was startling and rewarding for the audience, it really didn’t make a lick of sense. Especially when their friend is back at the farm house getting raped, something they seem to have invited. Or maybe Rosario Dawson’s character was supposed to be a sadistic bitch that uses her perky persona to goad her friends into devious acts. Or maybe they’re all stupid.

The thing is if you take out all of the annoying “Tarantino-isms” and half-hearted misogyny I probably would have liked Death Proof even more than Planet Fear. Too bad Tarantino is coasting on pop-culture references and borrowed cool to the point of self parody.

Which brings me to my other big complaint about the films: where were the boobies?! At least there were some in the trailers, but real exploitation has ‘splosions and T&A! Hollywood pussies.

R.I.P. Bob Clark

I was saddened to learn this weekend of the passing of Bob Clark, director of the beloved Christmas Story, Porky's and one of my personal favourites, the original Black Christmas.

I had the honour of meeting Mr. Clark a couple of years ago when he participated in a panel discussion at Cinemuerte for the launch of a book on Canadian horror films from the "Tax Shelter" period. I had just seen Black Christmas and excitedly told him of my admiration for it. He was very gratious and struck me as a very genuine, optimistic man filled with passion for film and his upcoming projects.

While often cited as a Canadian director, Bob Clark had actually been born in Louisianna, but decided to settle in Toronto after shooting a movie there. Although not a native son, he considered himself an honorary Canadian and took great pride in his adoptive country.

My sympathies go out to his family and friends.

EFS February Heads Up

Hey kids,

Before I depart for Sin City and a four day booze bender, I though I would give you a heads up on next month's EFS:

Evil Film School Presents: New York Sleazy

When: Friday, February 23rd

Two lost gems from the golden age of exploitation.

7:30pm - Telephone Book [1971]: Wacky comedy about one girl's quest to date the world's greatest obscene caller. Ahead of it's time.

9:15pm - Who Killed Teddy Bear [1965]: Post "Rebel" Sal Mineo is a creepy stalker with serious sexual hang-ups. First rate trash that's still creepy.

Doors: 7pm, Admission $5 - $10 Sliding scale

For more info: evilfilmschool@gmail.com or www.evilfilmschool.com

p.s. It's also my birthday that night, so get there early if you want birthday cake!