Stilted ‘Oh, Canada’ will have you saying oy vey
Paul Schrader is forever doomed to be defined by his transformative script for Martin Scorsese’s “Taxi Driver.” Lost in all the exorbitant praise is a writer-director who has exhibited moments of brilliance during a streaky career in which his duds and triumphs have largely equaled out. But of late, the 78-year-old has been on a late-in-life surge with “The Master Gardener,” “The Card Counter” and “First Reformed,” one of his certified masterpieces.
So, anticipation has been high for his latest, “Oh, Canada,” which serves as a reunion of sorts with his “American Gigolo”-star Richard Gere. I wish I could report that the actor and director have recreated the magic of their 1980 collaboration. But what appears on screen is such a discombobulated mess in which pontifications on death and dying compete against such varying dalliances as womanizing and draft-dodging. “What,” you ask? “What,” indeed.
You have a better chance of defining the meaning of life than making sense of Schrader’s adaptation of Russell Banks’ novel “Foregone.” The gist, as best as I can discern, is that Gere’s cancer-stricken Leonard Fife is making – for the lack of a better description – a death-bed confession to a couple of vultures in the husband and wife documentary team of Malcolm (“Soprano’s” star Michael Imperioli) and Diana (Victoria Hill). Both are former students of Leonard, a celebrated documentarian himself, who is wanted in his native Virginia for draft evasion but considered a national hero in his adoptive home of Canada. The team’s former classmate, Emma (Uma Thurman), is also on hand as the latest in Fife’s succession of marginalized wives. We eventually meet all of those spouses via a series of increasingly dull flashbacks, as Leonard recounts his checkered history to his inquisitors and Emma stews.
Intriguing, it’s not. And that’s the film’s lingering liability in failing to deliver a main character worth learning about. Simply put, Leonard Fife is both a boor and a bore. Compounding the lack of engagement is the blatantly obvious height difference between 5-foot-9 Gere and 6-5 Jacob Elordi as Leonard’s younger self. I thought I would eventually get past the disparity, but it was all I could focus on throughout this meaningless slog.
Some have speculated that “Oh, Canada” reflects Schrader’s face-to-face encounter with his own mortality in the grip of long-haul COVID. Is he Leonard Fife? Are Leonard’s regrets his? Such questions cross the mind, but if “Oh, Canada” is meant to be autobiographical it’s not a very compelling account. It’s merely a series of angry young man tropes, as Leonard’s dream of being a writer collides with mounting obstacles, not the least of which is Selective Service.
It’s also a bit of a road picture, with Leonard taking his sweet time motoring north from Richmond, Virginia, loving and leaving a woman in every town. What the gals see in the lumbering lug is beyond me. As portrayed by Elordi, Leonard is about as profound and animated as driftwood. And what becomes of these women in his wake? Who knows, Schrader doesn’t seem to care. It’s a pattern in a directorial career spent serving up female characters in the form of angels (“First Reformed”) or prostitutes (“Hardcore”) to prop up toxic males in search of themselves.
It’s out of step with the era of #MeToo, but like I said, Schrader is pushing 80 and a product of more chauvinistic times. An even greater disappointment is Gere. He sleepwalks his way through a handful of scenes, content to allow Elordi (“Saltburn,” “Priscilla”) to handle the heavy lifting in the meandering flashbacks.
Gere does appear briefly in these dips into the past, as he and Elordi inexplicably interchange in the same scene. Why? As I figure it, seeing young Leonard and old Leonard morphing in and out is representative of the unreliable recollections of a dying man loaded up on opioids and easily disoriented. But what’s the point?
The biggest loser is Thurman, reduced to playing the protective trophy wife who’s as fascinated as she is repelled by the lurid secrets her hubby spills to Malcolm and Diana. And why is Thurman also cast as Gloria, the youngish sexually liberated lover of one of Leonard’s buddies, who has no idea his woman is downstairs servicing their guest? Again, if there’s a purpose, I’m not comprehending.
Amazingly, Gere is garnering Oscar buzz for this drivel. But then the Academy is a sucker for male actors unafraid to sacrifice their natural good looks to transform into sickly wraiths. Just like the one Gere resembles in “Oh, Canada,” a movie as dead or dying as its protagonist.
Movie review
Oh, Canada
Rated: Not rated
Cast: Richard Gere, Uma Thurman, Jacob Elordi and Michael Imperioli
Director: Paul Schrader
Writer: Paul Schrader
Runtime: 108 minutes
Where: In theaters Dec. 6 (limited)
Grade: D
