Just Between You and Me | Antoine Bertrand Puts 20-20-20 in His Inner Garden

In the podcast series Just between you and meartists open the doors to their memories, their thoughts and their dreams, during a non-press interview.




A notable passage from Akim Gagnon’s (largely) autobiographical novel, Granby in the simple pastin which a teenage Akim is told by an older, more experienced Antoine Bertrand to “follow his dreams,” a phrase that will become like his North Star.

But what did Antoine Bertrand’s dreams look like? “I don’t remember wanting to be anything other than that,” he replies, “that” designating the profession thanks to which, since Virginia In 2002, Quebec felt it had found in him a great buddy.

Ever wanted to be anything else? The proof: one day, in Old Orchard, when his parents, uncles and aunts are shown the exit of a motel where, with the help of alcohol, they were causing a bit too much noise, a worried 6-year-old Antoine asks his mother about the negative impact that this incident could have on his Hollywood career.

PHOTO DOMINICK GRAVEL, THE PRESS

Antoine Bertrand

His childhood heroes? Arnold Schwarzenegger and, above all, John Candy, from whom he says he borrowed a lot. “I admired his humor,” he explains about the late Canadian monument, “but also that there was always an undercurrent of tragedy in him. There was always a vulnerability, a flaw, a weakness that you saw appear in the same line that had just made you laugh out loud.”

Just think about it

This “difficult thread to play”, between the comic and the tragic, is where Antoine has taken up residence over the last 20 years, embodying characters in whose eyes several layers of emotions always shine, sometimes contradictory.

This is the case of his role in The Hidden Womanthe moving second feature film by Bachir Bensaddek (Montreal the white), also starring French actress Naïlia Harzoune, whose husband he plays, in tow of his wife’s quest for identity and intimacy.

“That’s the job, you know,” replies the actor when asked how his face and eyes manage to convey so many states at the same time.

But that’s what cinema also allows. On TV, you have to go and carry the stuff. In cinema, you have to let it come. The strength of cinema is that you just make people think about it and people see it.

Antoine Bertrand

Is it really that simple? “I always say: your inner garden, you have to put 20-20-20 into it, otherwise, nothing will happen on screen. I find that there are a lot of line-sayers in our profession when 90% of the job happens between the lines. If you haven’t nourished your inner garden beforehand, it will light up when you say the words and then it will go out.”

To give everything

Antoine Bertrand was for a long time “a powerful lazybones,” he admits, the kind who cherished the treasures that the pressure of the knife on his throat conjured up in his imagination. “I thought it was a good engine, I worked well in it, but at a certain point, all actors will tell you, you go home at night and you always replay the scenes in your car. And then you find things and you say, ‘That would have been good. I should have prepared myself.’”

It would be difficult today to reproach Antoine Bertrand for not preparing himself. A recent example: last June, he offered Gino Chouinard, who was about to hang up his coffee cup, a rather homoerotic and above all jubilant poem, when he could have been content to answer his questions. In other words: with him, a visit to the TV is never anything but a visit to the TV.


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