by Cris Mora-Villa, Contributing Writer
There are thousands of films produced every year from just about every corner of the globe. Whether it be full length features, short films, or documentaries, there is a near endless river of films that have been forged into existence. A great deal of these movies have continued to influence the audience who consume them, as well as to help shape the medium itself. No one will ever have the time to view them all, as the hours upon hours of footage is too extensive to even make a dent in such a notion. But within the seemingly endless maze of films that are ready at the tap of our fingers due to the age of streaming, there are certain pictures which aren’t usually given the light of day they may deserve. And so exists Hidden Gems, where I take a trip to the past and unearth works that are wholly new to me in the hopes that they just may spark an interest in someone who would have never heard about it otherwise, or has put off checking out something intriguing.
Given the success of Dune: Part Two, Polytechnique feels like a timely film to examine by itself. Denis Villeneuve is a fascinating director whose early filmography tends to go overlooked among film circles. He has come to be known for his visually arresting images and unique sense of how to tell a story. There are certainly thematic and stylistic differences to be found, but his films can still loosely be categorized as adult-oriented dramas with a rock solid foundation, rich for contemplation. Whether it’s his most recent science fiction-based projects or middle era mystery and crime features, I’ve found no shortage of layers to dissect, from the stories themselves or the characters who inhabit the worlds depicted. Having recently viewed the last of Villeneuve’s films I’ve had yet to see, I think back to a comment he made regarding dialogue while promoting Dune: Part Two: “Frankly, I hate dialogue.” Villeneuve expanded on this in another interview shortly after, clarifying he was specifically pointing to his own writing process, as opposed to the works of another writer. I bring this up because it’s my own personal assessment that Villeneuve’s visually focused style of filmmaking begins with Polytechnique. Eight years after his previous directorial effort, Villeneuve returned to the silver screen with his third feature film in 2009. Following his first two films, which he penned and received moderate acclaim on the festival circuit, Villeneuve decided to regroup and pursue additional education to further grow as a filmmaker. Citing dissatisfaction with his first two features, Villeneuve would later claim he would next return to direct a film when he discovered something he felt passionate towards. Polytechnique would go on to become just that.
Polytechnique marks his first film based on a true story, as well as the first project where he was not the sole writer. When thinking about Villeneuve’s comment regarding the importance of sight and sound to tell a story, it can be found in spades in this movie. There are moments in his prior two movies which contain traces of such brewing desire, but August 32nd on Earth and Maelstrom come with a certain independent flavoring which overtake these impulses. Ironically, both films are rather talky affairs which rely primarily on the dialogue to establish momentum and character dynamics. This style gets wiped away entirely heading into Polytechnique. A choice not just indicative for where Villeneuve would continue to explore in future films, but also necessary for this film to properly convey what it wishes to say.
Set in 1989, the film follows the events of a mass shooting at Ecole Polytechnique de Montreal University through the perspective of two students, as well as the assailant. A content warning from this point onward cannot go without mentioning. When the subject matter of a film descends on such harrowing territory, there can be no illusions that a premise such as this one is not for the faint of heart. Despite having the shortest runtime of any film from Villeneuve’s filmography, the levels of dread interspersed throughout borders on complete and utter debilitation. Adjacent to other films which depict the brutality of violence, such as works in the canon of war or true crime, Polytechnique does differ in some respects. These differences do help soften the aftershocks of the gun violence on display during the first two-thirds of the picture. The end results of which do allow for a fitting conclusion within the diegesis of the film, but also give way to a more internally stirring resolution for the viewer.
Much of what’s to be admired from Polytechnique comes from Villeneuve’s self-assuredness in how he approaches this project. Born in the province of Quebec, there’s an understandably personal sensitivity to this event for Villeneuve, being Polytechnique University is also located in Quebec. Despite receiving approval from the actual school to shoot on location, Villeneuve opted against that out of respect to the victims. Certainly an admirable decision, which also serves to be emblematic of the emotional intent behind the film. Interwoven through the gunfire and bloodshed on screen is a movie deeply concerned about being able to empathize with our fellow humans. To not only grapple with one’s own pain in the face of tragedy, but to acknowledge the points of view experienced by another. The way this sentiment is handled in the film is nothing short of superb. Not only is it able to secure the viewers’ investment, but it allows for one to picture themselves in the shoes of our two protagonists. While that may be entirely by design from Villeneuve, it’s absolutely contradictory to how the movie handles the assailant.
Credited as simply “The Killer,” actor Maxim Gaudette is tasked with carrying the weight of a man who walked into a school in 1989 with one goal in mind. To not only commit mass murder against its inhabitants, but to specifically target women. An early scene in the movie shares a word-for-word account of a letter penned by the Killer for authorities to find following his attack. The Killer’s actual name won’t be included anywhere in this piece, as there’s little good which can come from espousing one’s name when they’ve committed such an abhorrent act. Villeneuve appears to have felt similarly as every action taken and every word said that come directly from the Killer aren’t primarily designed to show who this person was throughout their life. Rather, what the script chooses to focus on are the ideas which formulated such a person and the repercussions which have borne fruit because of said ideologies. Through voiceover, we hear the unfiltered thoughts of a man plagued with nothing but resentment towards women, using feminism as the root cause for his unhappiness, all but dubbing it a plague to the evolution of society. The Killer’s words are one thing, but his actions upon arriving at the school are different. While only 25 minutes of the runtime are devoted to the actual attack itself, the portion of that time where the Killer is shown on screen leaves little up to the imagination. It’s here where Gaudette’s performance should not go without mentioning. He’s truly as convincing as someone possibly can be when portraying this kind of role. There’s a certain kind of look in Gaudette’s eyes which deftly sells the intent of the terror behind the Killer’s actions. It’s a kind of physicality which cannot be achieved easily. The ensuing assault speaks for itself in just how much Gaudette is able to convey as the Killer roams the halls. Gun in hand and with little remorse, the Killer proceeds with determination, seeking absolute destruction. By the film’s end, a total of 15 people lost their lives at the hands of a man who chose violence as the last thing to offer up to the world. Villeneuve does provide time for the Killer to take center focus of the screen leading up to and during the attack, but the real soul of the film remains elsewhere.
In moments that switch focus away from the Killer, we follow the two protagonists who are present at the time of the shooting. Actors Karine Vanasse and Sébastien Huberdeau portray Valerie and Jean-Francois, respectively, as two students who come face-to-face with the Killer during his assault. Based on an amalgamation of several accounts from the real survivors of the shooting, Villeneuve and co-writer Jacques Davidts created Valerie and Jean as pure composite characters. Quite the appropriate choice, as it does fall in line with Gaudette’s depiction of the Killer, as all three similarly function to best serve the picture thematically. From that viewpoint, Valerie and Jean are very much the reactionary half to the Killer’s inciting incident which kicks off the plot. Key is not only Jean and Valerie’s response to the Killer’s onslaught, but how they handle the reasoning used to explain it as a necessity.
Antithetical to the Killer’s hate fueled rhetoric is the film’s message. It was no surprise to me that Villeneuve would want to counter the Killer’s own beliefs by espousing the exact opposite. The script is able to address this by dividing its core themes among our two protagonists. While Jean is confronted with a profound sense of guilt in the aftermath of the shooting, Valerie comes to reckon with what lies at the center of gender discrimination. In choosing to go down this avenue, it provides the opportunity to explore the broader grandiose theme of trauma for the individual character and their respective gender. A lesser film may have approached this method in a heavy handed fashion, but that ceases to be the case when Villeneuve is as focused on servicing the emotional turmoil of his characters as he is maintaining the gravity of the situation. In some ways, the movie itself has Valerie’s own ruminations on the meaning of gender in her own life serve as a thesis statement of sorts. Present at the time of the Killer’s bluster towards a classroom filled with women, Valerie gets to hear directly from the source why this ended up happening. With those circumstances in mind, there’s no underselling the kind of impact this would have on Valerie. The impact is undoubtedly felt in the moment itself as the scene plays out, but extending past that is where Villeneuve opts for his biggest defining statement.
Staying away from any political legalese about gun reform which is usually brought up in the wake of mass shootings, Villeneuve aims for a more esoteric approach for his resolutions. It’s here where I must acknowledge the film’s use of black-and-white. Cinematographer Pierre Gill does an exquisite job nailing down a bleakness inherent to the environment of the time. While Villeneuve avoids excess blood on screen, I find its biggest contribution is to the movie’s two endings. In an unspecified time skip set months after the attack, Valerie has found herself at the precipice of moving on from the event. When posed with the impending inevitability of the future, she arrives at two points of understanding. For if she ever finds herself fostering a boy, to raise him as a loving and compassionate person. If it is a girl however, make her understand that the world belongs to her. We don’t get to see what happens between this moment and the incident at the school, but considering this is the final beat the movie leaves the audience with should speak volumes about Villeneuve’s intent. Filming these scenes in black and white adds a certain optimistic tone to an otherwise vacuous setting. To weave through the initial shock and terror of it all and leave the door open in finding a new way forward. While the movie does end on a timely note, this is not something which is afforded to Jean.
In the time that’s passed since my initial viewing of the film, Jean’s final scenes, which preludes Valerie’s, have stuck with me the most. Not only are they the emotional peak of the film, but they quietly evoke everything I’ve come to know about Villeneuve as a filmmaker. With minimal dialogue and shadowy cinematography in hand, almost all of what I received from this portion of the film was through its visuals. From this point onward, I would confidently bestow Villeneuve as a fully formed filmmaker. Aside from the technical proficiency, what makes an even larger impression is the journey we experience through Jean’s eyes. From his point of view, what occurred at the school can only be considered a tragedy. Beyond that, however, he can only see himself as more of a bystander as opposed to a victim. The real victims lay on the floor bleeding out from their wounds as they plead for any sort of assistance. Despite Jean’s attempts to come to the aid of those in need of help, it never seems to be enough. The images we see on the screen don’t need any further implication for what it is Jean can never seem to escape. That proves to be the case when we skip to an unknown amount of time and find Jean has not gotten any better. Having resigned himself to his own state of corporeal purgatory, we transition away from Jean as he decides this is not the same world he once recognized on the morning of December 6, 1989. And with that, albeit for an entirely different set of reasons, Jean and the Killer have one more thing in common aside from being born a man.
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