In the mid-1970s, 9-year-old Rico (Rayan Dieudonné) was forced to flee the Duvalier regime in Haiti. Along with his mother (Penande Estime), he is welcomed with open arms by a couple from a rural village in Quebec. However, exile and trauma have sown something that Rico cannot grasp in his mother, and between them, the distance continues to widen.
To bridge this gap while integrating into the culture in which he is immersed, the boy teams up with a Lwa, an ancestral spirit from Haitian mythology, who guides him and constantly reminds him where he comes from, and the importance of honoring it.
Henri Pardo was inspired by his family’s experiences to imagine the story of his first feature-length fiction film, Kanavalthat of a child brutally uprooted from his native land and forced to reinvent himself and adapt to the unknown world that Canada represents for him.
Through the journey of little Rico, the filmmaker – who notably directed the series Afro Canada (ICI Radio-Canada, 2022), retracing the Afro-descendant presence in the country — testifies to the perpetual migration of the Haitian and African diaspora, the traumas and oppressions that pass through it, as well as the particular imaginaries that it has sown and shared on the territories that she has been surveying for decades.
Much more than a story of resilience and integration, Kanaval, filmed in French and Creole, is above all a vibrant tribute to Haitian culture, imagination and heritage. From the first minutes, which take place in the heart of the Jacmel Carnival, the viewer is propelled into the heart of the passion, know-how, tradition, memory and mythology of the Haitian people.
“It is an immense privilege to be able to return to a Haiti that practically no longer exists, that of 1975,” says Henri Pardo. Haitians have been trying to rebuild the island for years, and it’s not working, for all kinds of reasons. With cinema, I have the impression that I am making a modest contribution to this reconstruction enterprise. At the Toronto International Film Festival, a woman came up to me after the screening to tell me: “My mother said the truth, Haiti does exist. I saw Haiti.” It touched me enormously. »
A film about post-traumatic shock
By choosing to adopt the point of view of a child, Henri Pardo also rightly celebrates the power of imagination, both in the process of adaptation and in the importance of maintaining a link with one’s roots, one’s past and his legacy. “Childhood allows you to be honest, in a way, and to observe the lies of older people. The child navigates between incomprehension, the desire to blend in, the repercussions of post-traumatic shock on himself and others and the difficulty of leaving his country behind. It offers great freedom, a great area of exploration, while giving me the chance to remain faithful, too, to the experiences of adults. »
In addition to having to deal with winter, a new culture, new customs and a mother who is increasingly cutting herself off from the world, young Rico will face racism, intimidation and ignorance from many of the inhabitants of the village in which he must rebuild his life.
“ Kanaval is not a film about racism, but about post-traumatic shock. I talk about how difficult it is to leave your island, your world, and to be denied the right to flourish in your culture. The straight white men — and their children — who are tough on Rico experience so many insecurities that they don’t dare open their blinders to encounter other life forms. Even if it is Haiti that I want to honor first, hatred exists in the background, and tears the newcomer between his desire to be accepted and that of retaining the baggage he has accumulated. »
Welcome and love
In response to this violence, Rico will find refuge in his imagination, but also in the love of Albert and Cécile, the couple who open their door to him and protect him like a son.
Their interpreters, Martin Dubreuil and Claire Jacques, embody on the screen a pure goodness, beneath which rumble a depth and an experience which, without being explicit, validate an openness and an almost childish generosity, which manifest themselves in the celebration of difference , rather than in its erasure.
“It’s a privilege to play a character like that, an outsider who is also a bit of a hero,” underlines Martin Dubreuil, who is used to taking on the roles of villains. Finally, my faults, my defects, my casting atypical end up helping me to create beautiful characters. Albert’s fascination with Rico’s mother is completely pure. He has this rare quality of putting himself in a posture of learning and listening. » “It creates an encounter between two humans who observe and embrace their differences,” adds Henri Pardo.
It is also the same curiosity that guided the two actors in their collaboration with Rayan Dieudonné, the actor who lends his features to Rico.
Of Haitian origin, the young boy had been in Quebec for barely two years when the film crew spotted him at the Maison d’Haïti day camp in Montreal. With his mother and his little sister, he crossed the continent and passed through Roxham Road before finding refuge in Quebec. “I thought it would be incredible to have a boy with such a background with us. We took a risk, because he was a little shy during the audition, but he stood out because of his listening skills,” says the director.
The risk paid off. “He was so good, so inhabited,” says Martin Dubreuil. He fed us a lot more than we should have coach. » “It was absolutely charming to see him evolve on set,” adds Claire Jacques. The more the filming progressed, the more he asked technical questions and sought to improve. We had fun between takes, but when it was time to work, we looked at each other out of the corner of our eyes and we were ready. It was magical. I was deeply touched by this child. »
As the film was not shot in chronological order, Rayan Dieudonné tackled each piece of the puzzle individually, only seeing the result at the very end, during the first viewing of the film. “He leaned towards me and said, moved: “This is my story!” It was extraordinary,” continues the actress.
For Henri Pardo too, transposing his experience to the screen proved cathartic. “Children of immigrants experience a lot of guilt, because they often feel responsible for the misfortune of their parents, who left their country to save them. I carried this guilt for years. Today, with Kanaval, I feel like I’m connecting to a story, that of my parents, from which I was cut off. It’s a kind of revenge. »
The film Kanaval hits theaters on May 3.