The Quebec writer of Haitian origin Rodney Saint-Éloi often says that “the imagination of a region or a people alone will not be enough to build the world”. For him, imaginations are bridges that allow us to better see each other, touch each other, understand each other and, above all, to create a better, fairer, greener, gentler world.
KanavalHenri Pardo’s first fiction feature film, is an evocative example of this strength, this openness, these possibilities offered by the stories told by other cultures.
From the first minutes, the viewer is catapulted into the heart of the Jacmel carnival festivities, in a Haiti of 1975 weighed down by the Duvalier regime. Filmed from the point of view of Rico (Rayan Dieudonné), a nine-year-old child, groups adorned with multicolored masks and flamboyant disguises sing, shout and dance with ribbons in their hands, chains here and even wings. Although he does not have the keys to fully grasp all the details, the richness of what unfolds before his eyes is evident, as legends and myths come to life.
Then, the celebration gives way to tragedy. Rico, chased by a raven man, runs towards his house. There, he witnesses helplessly the attack on his mother, Erzulie (Penande Estime), by several men who punish his communist political ideas. She will lose the baby she had been carrying inside her for several months. Now fearing for her life, Erzulie and Rico find refuge in a rural village in Quebec.
Mother and son are welcomed there by Cécile (Claire Jacques) and Albert (Martin Dubreuil), a childless couple who open the doors of their house wide to them as well as those of their hearts. While his mother moves further and further away, haunted by the violence she experienced and by the traces left by exile, Rico will have to deal with winter, mourning, racism, uprooting and the silence of the one who gave him has served as a guide until now. Thanks to the advice of a Lwa, a spirit from Haitian mythology, the young boy will forge a strong identity of his culture and his new learning.
Henri Pardo finds the appropriate tone to address a host of issues related to immigration without falling into didacticism. By choosing to adopt Rico’s point of view, which only captures bits of information and truth, the filmmaker leaves plenty of room for perceptions, emotions and imagination. He thus gives himself the right to exaggerate and err on the side of sentimentality, offering moving scenes in which anyone who has already had to say goodbye will recognize themselves, and skillfully tempered by the talent of Martin Dubreuil and Claire Jacques, who both prove to be exceptional.
This posture also allows him to embrace all the flamboyance and richness of Haitian culture, and to use narrative tools – magical realism, oneirism – which underline this heritage and its importance in the construction of oneself, in the ability to adapt, grow and love; heritage which counterbalances that which Rico’s antagonists and bullies pass on from father to son.
Despite a few technical hiccups, the visual style of the film pays homage to the imagination of childhood and enhances the beauty and harshness of the Quebec winter, as well as the delicacies and pleasures that accompany it.
In his first role in the cinema, the young Rayan Dieudonné delivers a performance of great truth that goes straight to the heart, and reminds us that by closing the door to what we do not know, we deprive ourselves of great bursts of joy and wisdom.