On the partly frozen river, a canoe slides, propelled by a group of men led by a woman, seated at the back. You might think that it is a sports team and its coach, but no: within shooting distance, two police officers are monitoring the boat. This is because the occupants are, respectively, inmates convicted of murder and their correctional officer. Her name is Louise, and she created an experimental program aimed at stemming the risk of reoffending once prisoners are released. However, Louise’s convictions will be shaken by the arrival of Marc, a hitman who may be responsible for her mother’s death. In Melting icebeneath the surface of a social drama, flow the dark waters of a thriller.
Indeed, in this plot imagined by Sarah Lévesque and François Péloquin, and carried out by the latter (we owe the promising tandem The sound of the trees), the prison context is more than just a backdrop. Through said experimental program invented by Louise (and therefore by the co-writers), the film explores an interesting substitute for traditional punitive methods. Methods to which all the other members of the prison staff are attached, with the exception of Louise’s superior, who sees the positive results.
Moreover, the prison guards, with their stubborn and sometimes childish animosity, make somewhat caricatured antagonists.
Full of interesting contradictions, the protagonist, Louise, on the other hand, has a beautiful psychological density. To this role of leading woman who does her thing, the hyper-talented Christine Beaulieu breathes infinite nuances of determination then doubt, imperturbability then vulnerability.
In short, with a score that a less gifted actress could have played all at once, Christine Beaulieu makes lace. The actress also shares beautiful scenes with actor Marc Béland, convincing as Louise’s ex-police officer father.
Sincere or deceitful?
As for Lothaire Bluteau, he makes a completely unpredictable assassin. Behind the calculated indifference, we sense fear bubbling up: the fear felt by his character, Marc, at the idea of revealing himself despite himself. Distance and silence are weapons for him, but here he is forced to live in community, to collaborate, to share…
Threatening one second, on edge the next, the interpreter of Jesus of Montreal is as captivating as ever: this shot where, during his first canoe trip on ice, Marc smiles for the first time as if in spite of himself, is pure magic.
It is through this character that the film moves into a slow-burning or, rather, slow-melting suspense. Is Marc sincere, or deceitful? Does he really agree to give Louise’s unorthodox methods a chance? On the contrary, is the assassin simply manipulating the idealistic correctional officer into believing that she has won him over to her cause?
And Louise, for the account? Does she intend to take revenge on Marc or make him the ultimate textbook case proving the merit of her program?
Invaluable asset
On the production side, François Péloquin deploys treasures of imagination in order to maintain dynamism and movement during the numerous scenes of exchanges in pairs or in groups in closed places (example: working with the depth of field and the frames at the inside the frame during a therapy sequence filmed in adjoining rooms).
Aerial shots, with symbolic value, help the film to transcend its budgetary confinement.
In this regard, the quality and level of playing intensity offered by Christine Beaulieu and Lothaire Bluteau constitute an even more invaluable asset.