what’s left of us

What remains of the artists who leave us are their most significant works. In 50 years, we will certainly remember Michel Côté – and Jean-Marc Vallée – thanks to CRAZY. The character of Gervais Beaulieu embodied by Côté made an impression, by the accuracy of his interpretation, by the authenticity of the disarray, the anger and the love that this archetypal Quebec father of the 1970s has for his sons.

CRAZY testifies to the evolution of Quebec at a pivotal time in its history. It is both a powerful work of fiction and a precious archival document, like the Orders of Michel Brault (who will be 50 next year). A film that crystallizes for posterity the place of Michel Côté not only in our cinematography, but in Quebec culture. It will forever remain an inseparable face.

Cinema has this virtue. This memory function. Even if it is often only a posteriori, many years later, that we measure the historical importance of a work, a filmmaker, an actor or an actress .

When Orson Welles made Touch of Evil in 1958, the Universal studios, dissatisfied with the result, dismissed it and modified the assembly, in order to make it more conventional. The film, a critical and commercial failure upon its theatrical release, is today considered in its version desired by Welles – unforgettable in the role of a crooked detective – as one of the greatest thrillers in the history of the seventh. art.

Cinema, we too often forget, is not just an industry.

It’s not just a sausage factory of superhero adventures, modified tank chases or watered-down children’s tales whose sole purpose is to set new box office records. It is above all an art. Whether it is profitable or not, stricto sensu, is incidental.

This is what the winner of the most recent Palme d’or, Justine Triet, recalled last weekend. By going to pick up the ultimate award from the Cannes Film Festival for his film Anatomy of a fall, the French filmmaker took the opportunity to fire red balls at the management of the Macron government’s pension plans. By warning against a shift in its policies towards a goal of profitability for French cinema.

“The commodification of culture that the neoliberal government defends is in the process of breaking the French cultural exception, this same cultural exception without which I would not be here today”, declared the filmmaker.

On Twitter, the French Minister of Culture, Rima Abdul-Malak, immediately replied that she was “flabbergasted” by “such an unfair speech”, and added that “this film could not have seen the light of day without our model French ! “I find it ungrateful and unfair,” she explained the next day in an interview, calling Justine Triet’s speech “far left”.

We know the songas Alain Resnais would say. Other French politicians and commentators have denounced the elitist cinema “of spoiled children” financed with “taxpayers’ taxes”. They didn’t say “luxury BS”, but they meant it none the less.

Only a third woman in the Cannes Film Festival’s 76-year history has won a Palme d’Or, and all we seem to remember is that she dared to criticize the government. Be beautiful and shut up, as Marc Allégret said.

Does an artist who receives public money give up his freedom of speech? Do grants come with a gag?

We don’t bite the hand that feeds us, they say. It is to believe that Rima Abdul-Malak distributes herself pieces of bread (or brioche, if necessary) to the artists. Direct public aid represents only part of the financing of films in France. French cinema is also self-financing in an ingenious way. Those who go to see films – whether it’s a Marvel film or a Justine Triet film – support French cinema with a tax on tickets sold in theaters.

French cinema has very enviable market shares: between 35 and 45% for a decade, compared to 5 to 13% for Quebec cinema. The French cultural exception nevertheless remains fragile. A senatorial report entitled “Itinerary of a spoiled art: the public financing of cinema”, published on May 17, has the merit of being clear. It proposes a budget revision of the amounts and ceilings of tax credits granted to the film industry.

Nothing to reassure Justine Triet, who fears that French cinema is gradually tending towards a commercial logic inspired by Hollywood cinema. And that in the future, independent films like his can hardly exist.

She could have just accepted her Palme d’Or while smiling for the cameras, before offering an inconsequential spiel. She preferred to speak out consistently, provocatively and courageously in the circumstances. So that the art of cinema always takes precedence.

In 50 years, we will remember CRAZY. for the quality of its direction, acting, screenplay and dialogue. For Michel Côté, for Marc-André Grondin, for Jean-Marc Vallée. Not for its budget or the amount of public money that has been invested in it. In 50 years, Quebecers will not regret that part of their taxes allowed this masterpiece to see the light of day. They will be proud of it.