"Oh, Canada": A Dying Director's Tangled Web of Truths

On the brink of dementia and succumbing to cancer, elderly documentarian Leonard Fife (Richard Gere) seeks to leave behind more than just memories. He gathers his former students, including his current wife Emma (Uma Thurman), to capture the untold truths of his life on camera. Under their watchful gaze, Fife embarks on a self-exposing journey into his past, revealing a web of secrets and uncomfortable realities. For the first time, the filmmaker, accustomed to dissecting the lives of others, turns the lens inward.

Paul Schrader, a cinematic veteran of half a century, continues to explore the themes that have defined his career. Though he's worked as a screenwriter, director, and producer, he remains best known for penning Martin Scorsese's "Taxi Driver," a raw and sobering portrayal of war's devastating aftermath on the human psyche, embodied by Vietnam veteran Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro). The motif of the war-torn individual has remained a constant in Schrader's work, evolving with each conflict. In "The Card Counter," Oscar Isaac's character grapples with the lingering trauma of the Iraq War. Even Schrader's previous film, "Master Gardener," featuring Joel Edgerton, delves into the mind of a contemporary Nazi sympathizer, where a Second World War artifact serves as a Chekhovian gun in the film's climax.

It's no surprise, then, that the echoes of war resonate in Schrader's latest endeavor, an adaptation of Russell Banks' 2021 novel "Foregone." "Oh, Canada" (a nod to the country's national anthem) presents Leonard Fife not only as a man delivering a deathbed confession but also as a draft dodger who fled to Canada in 1968 to avoid serving in Vietnam. Despite his youth, Fife had already been divorced and remarried, with two children in tow. His wealthy in-laws offered him a chance to take over the family business, but after a moment of contemplation, Fife chose a different path. He abandoned his life in America and sought refuge in Canada, where he would spend the rest of his days, a life destined to be captured on film.

In Canada, Fife reinvented himself as a documentarian and educator, embracing the adage, "Those who can't do, teach." He seemingly thrived as a mentor, surrounded by a legion of students, particularly women, who would become a constant presence in his life. In his classes, he would quote Susan Sontag's seminal essay "On Photography," reflecting on the immortality bestowed upon those captured in a photograph. Fife, posing as an authority, would recite borrowed wisdom until challenged by Emma, his future third wife, who dared to question whether every photograph offered a promise of immortality, or if some merely immortalized death itself.

This debate on the ephemeral nature of existence lies at the heart of Schrader's film, a work by a seasoned filmmaker who, at 78, is also grappling with the depths of memory. However, Fife quickly reveals that appearances were always more important to him than reality, casting him as an unreliable narrator.

He even abandoned his writing career, finding it more gratifying to be known as a writer than to endure the arduous process of writing itself. Schrader navigates the labyrinth of Fife's memories, uncovering a series of unsavory truths. But those around him, especially a bewildered Emma, struggle to discern whether to believe his revelations or dismiss them as the ramblings of a fading mind, blurring the lines between fact and fiction, dreams and borrowed stories.

In this ambiguity, Schrader's film itself becomes lost, its fragmented editing and disjointed narration leaving the audience disoriented. Is Fife a pacifist draft dodger, or simply a man unwilling to conform to his in-laws' expectations? Or is he merely a fantasist, constructing an idealized life so convincing that he himself believed it?

"Oh, Canada" attempts to tackle too much, yet ultimately lacks depth and substance. It's evident that this confessional narrative holds personal significance for Schrader, perhaps serving as his swan song.

However, while Schrader portrays Fife's desire for ultimate honesty, he himself remains elusive, shrouding the film in ambiguity. This detachment creates a barrier between the film and its audience, akin to viewing a museum piece through a protective layer of glass.

The irony lies in the fact that this purported revelation avoids true candor, distracting from the core narrative with its clumsy and convoluted storytelling. Fife, the aspiring writer, proves to be a poor narrator. Schrader, who has been prolific in recent years, albeit with diminishing returns, is highly regarded by his peers, ensuring his films a place at prestigious festivals. However, his work is becoming increasingly inaccessible to the average viewer.

"Oh, Canada" seems to be a film made for Schrader himself, a testament to his continued ability to secure funding and create on his own terms. Yet, in crossing borders and genres, Schrader loses his way, leading the audience down a confusing path. By the end, viewers are left feeling weary and deceived, as if they've been twice betrayed.