Paul Schrader on Quentin Tarantino’s ‘Oh, Canada’ and ‘The Film Critic’

The Paul Schrader Renaissance began the moment “First Reformed” debuted among the director’s best reviews in at least 15 years, in 2017. The spiritual trilogy formed around it – “The Card Counter” and “Master Gardener” – fostered a new In the minds of this generation, this frankly narrow view of what constitutes a Paul Schrader film: men in rooms, pens on diaries, peculiar revenge plots.

It’s likely that audiences awaiting another drama in which a man’s profession appears dressed as America’s sick soul will be confused by “Oh, Canada,” his new feature currently in competition at the Cannes Film Festival . It’s based on the 2021 novel “Foregone” by Russell Banks. Those familiar with Schrader’s half-century of filmmaking might find themselves on the verge of bewilderment with this film, which uses the last will and testament of documentarian Leonard Fife (Richard Gere) as a way to let go of 55 years of guilt. , a great man whose wrongs finally catch up with him in a combination of memories (where he is played by Jacob Elordi And Gere), the imagination, confusion, and competing authorship that emerges when artistic egos clash.

Ahead of the Cannes premiere of “Oh, Canada,” IndieWire spoke with Schrader, who offered a series of in-depth, thoughtful responses that oscillate between abstract ambitions and the practical side of sausage making. There is some criticism of his film which was a small apple for Schrader, whose confidence in his own material has been confirmed many times. He will believe in the lifespan before relying on the lightning reactions which are unfortunately commonplace at the premieres of major festivals; the expectation is that, whatever the people at Cannes think in the tweets and reviews under the pressure of the embargo, “Oh, Canada” harbors secrets and surprises that won’t be revealed any time soon .

This review has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Indiewire: In light of the recent Variety article, in which you mentioned that Martin Scorsese’s dog attacked your hand, how is your thumb?

Paul Schrader: Well, that seems wrong. It will always seem wrong. It will always be painful. Because part was missing – it was replaced. But the part that is disappeared is in Marty’s dog’s stomach. Or was, at one point.

“Oh, Canada” takes you deep into the consciousness of its protagonist. The what, when, and where of events and timelines become less certain as they progress; it just increases the possibilities.

Yeah, it’s losing a little traction. The wheels start turning at some point.

How much of the initial drafts played a little clearer and how many of the drafts were more opaque?

Well, it’s pretty faithful to the book, just like “Affliction.” The book is a mosaic; “Affliction” was a linear story. Different structures. In most cases, I started with a narrator. In “Affliction,” there was Rolfe, the brother; in this case, it’s the son. In the books, these narrative voices are just the author’s voice – Russell’s voice – but I customized them, so I had an interruption situation where you have dual narration. You know: the son talks about the father’s death, and then you hear the father maybe talking about his own life. So it became an interesting connection. Then, structurally, it’s really very simple. You have two deadlines: one is the last day and the other is the trip to Canada. They are interspersed. Then you occasionally get other memories which are then put into black and white. The last day is a bit “Godfather” – dark – and the trip to Canada is blown up in the “Fat City”; then the occasional memories inserted are in black and white. Cornell’s is its own little section. I’m doing this in Bergman-esque orange – the orange from “Cries and Whispers.” So you have these four models.

The previous films I’ve made are what I call monocular: they look through one eye. One eye, one character. Whereas this one is a mosaic, a pastiche that goes back in some way to the structure of “Mishima,” where the different layers of reality and different visual formats fit together. Now, it’s not as… bold, today, as it would have been in the past, because I go to theaters all the time where they change format, change color, go to black and white, and no one in the audience groans anymore when, suddenly, one scene is radically different stylistically from the last. We have become very sophisticated as movie viewers. We no longer necessarily believe in continuity. What we once called a continuity error, we now call a continuity choice. (Laughs.) He enters the room with a red jacket from the outside, and inside he has a green jacket. It’s not a mistake, it’s “a choice”. (Laughs.)

Your first collaboration with cinematographer Andrew Wonder is very expressive not only in terms of colors and formats, but also in terms of specific lens choices. What is the communication like with a cinematographer who is collaborating for the first time?

Andrew was my assistant 20 years ago. I know him since a long time. Then he went from being my assistant to being a doc filmmaker. He’s one of those guys who designs cameras, so he’s always coming up with a setup on how to shoot something, and it’s very exploratory. I thought it would be good for both of us – me for him, because he’s only made documentaries – to give him a chance to make a feature film, and also to get involved with his sensibility, which was good more… rock-and-roll, music video, commercialism. One thing does not necessarily lead to the next. There was no way I was going to lose control of the race, because I’ve been doing this long enough – I’m going to hold the race – so I’m not going to lose control, but it’s good to have a horse it’s a little more unpredictable than others.

You recently expressed the feeling that some of your period pieces didn’t turn out as well as you hoped. Which makes it interesting that “Oh, Canada” is largely set in a bygone era. Are there any particular discomforts or adaptation processes to making a period piece?

My attraction to storytelling has always been going outside and sniffing the air. What is going on? There’s something going on here. What is this? I’m always sort of interested in the zeitgeist, in why people do certain things. That’s pretty much every movie. I did “Patty Hearst” – even though it’s in the past, it’s really about what’s happening right now. So that always appealed to me, as opposed to just recreating a period. I also think people make mistakes when they recreate a period because they recreate it as an image of a period.

Now I remember very well what the 60s were like. And they looked pretty much like them in there. They are not all bell bottoms and floral shirts and long blonde hair. There is a real mix of people. Many people are watching pretty normal. They look exactly like they did today in the 60s. Maybe their hair was just a little longer; maybe they had a bit of a Beatles style. But then there are younger people who lived in the 60s – just like me – and not the 40s, and they have preconceived ideas. What are the 40s like? It must have looked like those movies from the 40s! (Laughs) So I think the mistake I tried to avoid was trying to make the ’60s sound like “the ’60s.”

It’s such a delight when you interact with the presence of Richard Gere and Jacob Elordi in unique scenes. There’s a difference in tone: it’s funny when Michael Imperioli “plays young” but looks like a middle-aged man, or Uma Thurman shows up as Gloria, a young hippie who yet looks like an older woman.

Yeah. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Sloane — who is the assistant for the day — is Amy! There’s this direct line where Sloane says, “What was that girl’s name?” Then you cut to Richard and he says “Amy,” then you cut to a shot of Jake and the actress playing Amy – the same actress who plays Sloane – then you cut back again. But because you have long, purple hair and you have a short, blonde haircut, most of the time people don’t notice it. When I do it with Uma, I’m doing it for the second time, not the first time. It’s kind of a miscalculation that I made when making the film: I thought that when Uma appeared, people would say, “Oh, he’s doing it again,” not “he’s doing it for the first time.” “.

You are far more honest than almost any director in evaluating your own films.

I have confidence in the material, in the product. The things I’ve done over the years have not, on the whole, had a very successful immediate financial life. But I was very lucky to have a shelf life. A number of films I’m involved in – perhaps a disproportionate number – are still hanging around. Even movies that I have a problem with, like “Hardcore,” people still talk about it. There’s a book coming out about it this summer – a picture book. If you think about shelf life, then you can be completely objective and say, “Ask me in 10 years.” I remember having a conversation with Sydney Pollack years ago. I was writing something for Sydney. I had just done “Mishima”. He said, “You know, we’re both filmmakers. We are both intelligent people. But they see you as a rebel artist and me as the establishment. But are we really so different? And I said, “Well, Sydney, I’ve made two films that I knew – before I started shooting – would fail financially, but I knew they were worth making for the sake of it.” pleasure of making them. Have you ever done that?” And he laughed and said:…