|B R I E F S Y N O P S I S|
|Writer/director Denys Arcand revisits the characters from his international breakthrough The Decline of the American Empire. Seventeen years later, Rémy (Rémy Girard) and Louise (Dorothée Berryman) are divorced, with their estranged son Sébastien (Stéphane Rousseau) living in capitalist splendor in London. When Rémy begins to lose his battle with terminal cancer, the hedonistic, ex-radical father and straight-laced son must overcome their differences to bring their family back together. Winner for Best Actress (Marie-Josée Croze of Maelström) and Best Screenplay at the 2003 Cannes Film Festival.|
| I Hate Clint Eastwood
Today is Friday,
October the 24th. I am home in Montreal for three days.
I cannot write anything. I am too tired. It seems like I finished this film years ago. I don't even remember how I felt shooting it. I only remember telling my crew that this might be my last film. Even then I was tired. I think. In fact the answer print was already late in April. A week later we had a big opening night in Montreal, a large press conference and then the usual circus of print, television and radio interviews. Right after that we went to Cannes. It was a zoo as usual. I must have given thirty thousand interviews. Meanwhile Clint Eastwood flies into town, plays a serene round of golf, gives a brief press conference and flies back to California. While Clint putts for birdie on the seventh hole, I am locked up in a room with an intense film critic from lower TRANSYLVANIA. What's worse, this critic raves about Mystic River and he has reservations about my film. I hate Clint Eastwood.
I fly back to Montreal. Then on to Toronto where I have to attend a press
conference where they announce that my film is going to open the Toronto
Film Festival. From there I fly to New York to attend a test screening
and meet the Miramax people. Then I have six weeks off but the weather
is awful and the vacation is ruined. Then I fly to Paris for three days
where I'm locked up in a room with film critics. I fly back to Montreal
and the next day we fly to Telluride (via Chicago and Denver: ten hours).
From there we fly back to Montreal (another ten hours). One day off. Then
we fly to Toronto for the Festival, Opening Night gala, etc. The next
day I fly to Paris. Another three days with film critics plus a gala screening.
Then I fly to Berlin. Two days and a half with film critics. I fly back
home. One week off. I play one round of golf on a gorgeous autumn day.
I feel like Clint. We fly to Russia. Screenings in Moscow and St. Petersburg.
The audiences are wonderful, incredibly warm and
Monday I am flying to London: BAFTA and Festival screenings. I will be back Friday. Saturday I have a Q & A at the Cinémathèque Québécoise. The Monday after we fly back to California for twelve days then back to New York for a gala of some kind. And then comes this terrifying note on my Miramax schedule: "December 2003: Ten city regional press tour." Why am I doing all this? I have no idea. I am told that most of my films have done well in Australia. I have never set foot in Australia. I'm sure that Clint is already at work on his next project and that his golf game is just wonderful.
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