Winnipeg...Winnipeg...Winnipeg...

The hometown syndrome is something that hits everyone at sometime in his or her life. At some point, one can only look at where they grew up with complete disdain. This is, to some degree, the overall sentiment of Guy Maddin’s recent feature My Winnipeg. This pseudo-documentary is, believe it or not, probably Maddin’s weirdest film. Winnipeg creates an awkward relation between its subject matter, the history of the Manitoban capital and Maddin's family life, and its presentation, neo-expressionism to the extreme. However, with Maddin’s stranger-than-fiction stories, it all fits seamlessly, even when the stories are questionable in their validity.

We begin on a train, Maddin’s means of escaping his “sleepy” hometown of Winnipeg. Everyone on this train hasn’t a clue of what’s going on except that they must leave and break this sleep spell that’s been cursed upon them since they entered the Canadian city. As the train flies by the sights of Winnipeg, Maddin begins his journey into its history and his familial situation. To present his family’s story, Maddin decides to cast actors to play his sister and two brothers, but in a strange twist, cast Ann Savage to play his mother while saying his mother is played by his actual mother. The father? Well, due to Mr. Maddin’s early death, Guy Maddin decided not to cast an actor to play his father, but instead put a dummy on set under the living room carpet just as a reminder.

Winnipeg’s family plot serves for some great entertainment, especially the moments that involve Maddin’s “mother”. Maddin does not present his mother under a very good light, but because of this, the film’s overall despairing attitude is multiplied significantly by the mother’s frigidness. Every scene involving the Maddin family has the mother character acting ridiculously. From the scene where the mother accuses her daughter of having sex in the family car to her obsession with the house’s upkeep, the mother character is hilariously nerve-wracking. Though some of the incidents involving the Savage character may be true, the mother character’s purpose is not so much for comic relief as much as she is used to personify Maddin’s view of his hometown. You can’t choose your mother and no matter how much you may grow to despise her, you must realize her significance in your development. This much can definitely be said about the place where you were raised.

Though the family story offers many laughs and puts lots of perspective on how the family unit is much like your hometown, it’s Maddin’s stories of Winnipeg that will grab your attention. The film’s portrayal of the city is, aesthetically, unflattering. Maddin’s style amongst all his films is very expressionistic, linking back to the German cinema of the 20s and 30s, as well as silent Hollywood cinema. Maddin’s stylistic choice truly leaves a viewer cold and, therefore, leaves a very bad impression upon us when it comes to our sentiment towards Winnipeg. Though this is definitely Maddin’s goal, he also wants to show how the city has a rich history he’s proud of. However, recent events have led Maddin to create a sort of love/hate relationship with Winnipeg. Though Maddin doesn’t present any stereotypically happy stories about his hometown, he definitely wants to emphasize its fantastically strange history. The most beautiful scene in Winnipeg involves Maddin’s retelling of the infamous séances that were once held by a previous Winnipeggan mayor. Several of the city’s elite sit at a circular table, holding hands and chanting, following a séance master. As a higher level of conscience is reached, a ballet begins. The flowing movement of the dancers mixed with Maddin’s spastic style creates this beautifully eerie scene that is absolutely stunning and though you’re not left with a cheery view of Winnipeg, you’re absolutely fascinated and much of this is greatly attributed to Maddin’s film style.

Maddin’s style amazes me. His success at recreating the style associated to the old silent and expressionistic days of film is astounding. Maddin has pinpointed every stylistic facet of these old film ages and has used them to his liking with incredible precision to detail, while still adding his own personal touch. Though Maddin’s choice of direction, camera movement and use of intertitles are all incredibly significant to Winnipeg’s style, credit must be given to the film’s editor and long time Maddin collaborator, John Gurdebeke. If it’s any film language that truly creates the aesthetic experience of Winnipeg, it’s the editing. Watching Winnipeg, it’s easy to see just how many cuts there are in any one scene and this is what creates the aesthetic experience Maddin is so known for. Several cuts within half a minute, fades and irises that scream 20s and, most of all, the superimpositions, are the few things that Gurdebeke does to translate the emotions of Winnipeg and to ultimately make this film as enjoyable as it is, both technically and emotionally.

My Winnipeg is entirely original. Like all of Maddin’s films, the style is bold and resonating with otherwordly beauty. The overall concept of the film is mysterious and enjoyable, though it’s incredibly questionable. The stories, whether true or not, will grab the attention of any spectator and leave you to automatically peruse every source possible just to discover whether or not these stories hold water. And if they don’t, it doesn’t matter because it simply proves Maddin’s ingeniousness when it comes to making the absurd completely believable through his convincing and trusting narration. The hometown syndrome is translated so effectively into this film that you will be forced to put your childhood home in perspective again, whether you like it or not.