In the two or so years since graduation, I have lost the habit of reading academic writing. So it was no surprise that I ended up mired in the swamps of Canada's Hollywood. I checked it out expecting a breezy discussion of Canadian filmmaking, and found instead a rigorously-researched, footnoted and factchecked inquiry into the history of governmental involvement in Canadian film. There were even... tables. I shouldn't have let myself be fooled by the gold foil on the cover. I should have checked the spine. The University of Toronto Press imprint would have been fair warning.
But persevering was rewarding, if you count the gift of guilt. The guilt of my weak support for Canadian movies, in particular. I'll see about one every month or two, compared to dozens of American or European films. There's no reason for it, I've seen Canadian movies I've liked. Great ones like Léolo and Mon Oncle Antoine. And ones that aren't great, but you can't help liking more anyway. Like South of Wawa, which has some lovably inept hockey scenes and tonnes (yes that's metric, we're in Canada) of smalltown Ontario. How can anyone resist a movie whose tagline was "Endless Love - Passionate Dreams - Cream-Filled Donuts"? Apparently some of the raters at IMDB could. But don't listen to the haters, watch it yourself. If you do, I personally vow to see every Canadian movie that comes my way. Whether that includes American movies starring Ryan Reynolds, I leave you to decide.
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