Staging one of the most formidable contract killers in the history of the Montreal underworld has its share of moral dilemmas. Why give importance to a monster? How to show the man behind the crimes, the brother, the father, the spouse, without glorifying the barbaric acts, the inhumanity, the misogyny, the daily tragedies of the criminal universe? How to grab the spectator, already overloaded by the violence of everyday life?
These questions certainly tormented Raymond St-Jean when he decided to freely adapt to the screen the life of Donald Lavoie, a murderer who, under the orders of Claude Dubois, killed 27 individuals in the 1970s, before a bounty on his head from his own clan. Forced to make a choice between prison and death, the criminal will denounce his brothers in arms to the police, thus becoming the first informer in the history of Canada.
The filmmaker is visibly pleased by borrowing from the traditional codes of gangster films, and therefore chooses to adopt exclusively the point of view of his protagonist. This approach allows the viewer to pierce the shell of Donald Lavoie, to go beyond the impressions of calm, control, coldness to capture the jolts of a tormented soul, plagued by doubts, regrets, dependency and trauma. .
This desire to humanize the monster is essential for us to adhere to the proposal. Raymond St-Jean and Martin Girard, his co-screenwriter, manage to find the right balance between empathy and incomprehension, avoiding justifying the inadmissible and keeping the real intentions and motives of the protagonist vague. They thus open up avenues for reflection on the cycle of violence and rehabilitation.
If this balance is achieved, it is also thanks to the masterful performance of Éric Bruneau, who blends perfectly into the skin of this controlling and restless killer, marrying his intonations, his pace and his apathy. In some scenes, the resemblance is unmistakable, notably during the reproduction of an interview with Donald Lavoie at The Fifth Estateon CBC, presented during the end credits.
His playing partners – Benoît Gouin, chilling with hypocrisy as gang leader, Joakim Robillard, heartbreaking as a neglected and impulsive little brother, Sylvain Marcel, imposing calm and respect as a police inspector – are not left out, and help delineate the contours and shades of the dark underworld ecosystem. Hats off, too, to Rose-Marie Perreault, who, in the guise of the mobster’s wife, manages to inject strength, character and intelligence into a role which, as tradition dictates, offers very little to get your teeth into. .
Let’s also highlight the work of the technical team, each department of which — photography, lighting, sets, costumes — contributes to a sober and authentic visual rendering, a thousand leagues from the clichés of the period film. As a conductor, the filmmaker moves away from the warm and comforting hues associated with the decade of disco to build a universe as icy and impenetrable as its protagonist. A difficult film to watch, but which manages to justify each of its plans.