Stephane Lafleur’s Tu Dors Nicole (literally translated to “You’re sleeping, Nicole”) takes place over one languid, youthful summer, shot gorgeously on black and white 35mm film. The 22-year-old title character (Julianne Côté), does nothing but aimlessly wander the neighborhood when not working at a thrift store, looking forward to summertime. With her parents away on vacation, and a brand new credit card in her name, Nicole can’t wait to party with her friend Veronique (Catherine St-Laurent) and spend to her heart’s content.

Things don’t go the way Nicole expects. Her older brother Remi (Marc-André Grondin) brings his bandmates Pat (Simon Larouche) and JF (Francis La Haye) to the house unannounced to record a rock album. Remi promises they won’t disturb her, a line followed by a cut to his band rocking out full-blast at night. Nicole and Veronique impulsively buy plane tickets for a trip to Iceland, but as the hot summer continues, things change for Nicole, suggesting she’s on the brink of moving into the next chapter of her life.

Lafleur nails down a hazy, lethargic summertime atmosphere with the help of cinematographer Sara Mishara, taking full advantage of the grainy film stock. Lafleur also knows how to take relatable experiences and beautifully tie them into his film’s themes. At one point Nicole and Veronique walk their bikes through a field before suddenly stopping, wondering where they’re heading to. They were just following each other, despite neither of them knowing exactly what they were doing. Lafleur punctuates the scene with a long shot of the two women standing alone in the open field.

It’s that kind of low-key, thematically relevant humour that proves to be Tu Dors Nicole‘s greatest strength. Lafleur throws in funny, surreal touches throughout as well, a series of bizarre moments surprisingly delightful in their oddness. The strangest, and funniest, part takes the form of Martin, a 10-year-old boy infatuated with Nicole. When Nicole first sees him she explains how, now that Martin’s voice dropped, he thinks he has a shot with her. Sounds cute, until Martin actually speaks; all of his lines have been dubbed over by a grown man, giving him the voice of someone in their 30s or 40s not a pubescent pre-teen. Martin’s scenes are a highlight, but the joke has more of a purpose than a silly, absurdist touch. It underlines Nicole’s feelings, showing how a 10-year-old’s life has more assuredness and direction than her own.

All in all, Tu Dors Nicole adds up to something pleasurably off-beat, a funny take on the coming-of-age film. Its quirks surprisingly entertain rather than grate or annoy, largely because of Lafleur’s assured direction and Mishara’s gorgeous cinematography. Films dealing with characters in their early to mid twenties trying to transition into the adult world aren’t exactly dealing with fresh material. Therefore, it’s something of a minor triumph that Tu Dors Nicole finds a way to wring something new and refreshing out of such familiar content.

Originally published on 9/15/14 as part of our TIFF coverage.

If Vic + Flo Saw A Bear could be summed up in one word, it would be “peculiar”. The film opens with a young boy and his friend playing the trumpet poorly, a fact that Victoria (Pierrette Robitaille) immediately makes them aware of. “You can’t expect people to give you money if you don’t know how to play,” she tells them. One of them responds with “You could still give us money just to encourage us”, leading to an immediate cut to Victoria walking away. The fast-paced, percussive soundtrack doesn’t fit what’s on screen, and the abridged credits (first names are initial only, meaning Robitaille is credited as “P. Robitaille”) just add on to the bizarre mood established from the outset.

Victoria is recently out on parole, and she comes to her uncle’s house only to discover he’s paralyzed. A teenage boy from the area is taking care of him, but Vic sends him off once she arrives. Besides periodic visits from her parole officer (Marc-André Grondin), it’s a mostly quiet existence. That is until Florence (Romane Bohringer), Victoria’s prison girlfriend (she just finished serving her time), shows up and the two rekindle their romance. Director Denis Côté introduces Flo by not introducing her at all; a shot of Victoria looking bored cuts to the two women fooling around with each other under some blankets. Flo’s entrance speaks to the way Côté creates a film that’s completely unpredictable. Florence seemingly comes into existence the moment she appears on screen, and this feeling of things happening exactly as they occur extends to the rest of the film.

Côté’s skills at establishing his film’s universe provides much of Vic + Flo Saw A Bear’s enjoyment. The way Côté frames his characters, usually in very deliberate poses that imply a boxing in of some sort, communicates Vic and Flo’s mental state. Both women, despite being surrounded by wilderness, are still trapped. Victoria’s past crimes (we never know why either woman went to jail, but it doesn’t matter anyway) make her unable to move forward, while Florence’s desire to live in the city makes her new location feel like another prison. Côté’s compositions do all the work communicating his characters’ feelings. Early on we see Victoria crying outside her new home, but the camera only observes her through the home’s small doorway (first from behind, then head-on). She may be in the wilderness, but to Victoria her entire world is between those two narrow walls.

Once a mysterious figure from Flo’s past shows up, things begin to make sense. The shift from offbeat drama to dark revenge tale makes certain aspects like the fast-paced score and precise framing click into place. It’s as if the film starts out as a thriller, but has to wait for its characters to catch up with the proceedings. It may sound like Côté doesn’t have a handle on things, but it’s evident from frame one that he’s in complete control. The switch to more genre-based material doesn’t work as well as the other tonal shifts throughout Vic + Flo Saw A Bear, but it’s only a slight step down in terms of enjoyment.

Côté’s power as a filmmaker is evident in the film’s brief coda, a fantasy sequence that doesn’t exactly fit in with the film (for all its strangeness, everything still operates within reality) yet flows perfectly with everything that came before it. Vic + Flo Saw A Bear is a very strange film, one that’s fully realized yet feels like it can veer off into any direction at a moment’s notice. Watching the film feels like being on unstable ground, but that feeling of uncertainty makes for a thrilling experience.