Real black diamond, or UFO, in the filmography of Pierre Perrault, The luminous beast (1982) lifted the veil on what many women imagined without being able to observe it closely: the virile camaraderie, sometimes rude and very drunk, of hunting and fishing enthusiasts, far from the gaze of others, and in particular of wives. At that time, discourses surrounding toxic masculinity and bullying had yet to find their way into the collective imagination.
What would this group of friends brought together by Perrault have thought of the way the Sirois family approached their fishing trip in The lake of men, by Marie-Geneviève Chabot? Already a woman invites herself there… Nearly 40 years have passed between these two documentaries, as well say a century!, and a similar period between the moment when Laurent Sirois abandoned his wife and his three sons and these reunions without outpourings of joy. These most often take place in a boat that is obviously too small to contain their respective sufferings.
This ritual appears strange, even daredevil, when one grasps the extent of the recriminations that seem to eat away at them all from the inside. Proposed by Stéphane, the eldest of the boys, who quickly became a surrogate father, this fishing trip is obviously not a pleasure trip, at least judging by the face of Jérôme, father of several children frightened at the idea of reproducing the paternal model, and Jean-Pierre, the quietest, and undoubtedly the most bruised of the clan. Slightly set back, but always at the center of conversations, rarely at random as the silences are numerous and heavy, Laurent takes the blows under an often cloudy sky, the result of chance offering a very involuntary, and yet very eloquent metaphor.
Make peace
How do you perceive the separation of your parents with the eyes of a child? More often than not, it’s the end of the world, and the Sirois brothers still bear the gaping wounds, trying all the same to make peace with the one they believe to be solely responsible for their shortcomings, past and present. The absent are always wrong, and Laurent’s departure for Vancouver for five years — after a stay in psychiatry caused in part by the turmoil of an inevitable divorce — looks like a crime that has gone unpunished for his offspring. The version of the father turns out to be different, he says he was abandoned by the one he loved even before he took the key to the fields.
All fishing enthusiasts will tell you: nothing is more inappropriate than chatter, especially at full volume, when teasing the fish. This is the perfect sport for taciturns and misanthropes, as well as for those who want to get away from the ambient tumult for a while. In The lake of menthis monastic atmosphere is enhanced by landscapes of breathtaking beauty, never troubled by interference from the outside world.
But this apparent calm in the middle of a sea of oil hides violent eddies expressed in an often clumsy and laborious way (“I was present and I was not present”, launches Laurent without conviction), a sign that the work of reconciliation looks long. We even come to believe that in this attempt at family mediation between consenting adults, reproaches and regrets are easier to find in the nets than the trout. As close as possible to this quartet out of tune, but refusing to force the game, including that of tearful reconciliation, Marie-Geneviève Chabot occupies a discreet, respectful, compassionate posture. His previous film is called Waiting for spring ; it would style this one just as well, like a note of hope despite adversity.