Saint-Narcisse: taboos on the big screen

REVIEW by Drew Rowsome

16 SeP 2021 -

A hometown hero teamed up with the MCU to prove that audiences are ready to go back to movie theatres. Hot on Simu Liu's heels comes another hometown hero with an epic film, this time from the BLBCU, out to prove that gay twincest and sadomasochistic priests can be as much of a draw as a superhero. 

Saint-Narcisse was the winner of the Venice Film Festival's prestigious Graffetta D'Oro (translation: Golden Paper Clip) best film award which goes to the film that has the highest chance of becoming a cult movie. Writer/director Bruce LaBruce is no stranger to creating cinematic masterpieces that earn longevity among cineastes, porn aficionados and audiences with a taste for the taboo, the heartfelt and the satirically comic. LaBruce's oeuvre ranges from the erotic horror of LA Zombie starring Francois Sagat to the sweet romanticism of Gerontophilia starring national treasure Walter Borden (Lilies, CHILD-ISH). LaBruce's classic Hustler White starring Madonna-endorsed Tony Ward, inspired a haute couture line by designers My Lost Uncle - MissingSince1979 that sold out with the help of the Tom of Finland Foundation's participation. Cult in LaBruce's DNA.

Saint-Narcisse begins with the most transgressive of all LaBruce's scenes so far: a heterosexual sex scene in a laundromat. Crucially, the breeder bumping attracts a crowd of voyeurs which turns out to be the actual reason that Dominic (Félix-Antoine Duval) is so turned on. As we learn, as the film unspools, Dominic's usual sexual releases are masturbatory and are inspired by mirrors and photos of himself. But Dominic is a kind soul and the laundromat romp turns out to be a fantasy that also sets up LaBruce's fractured narrative, we are never exactly sure what is reality and what is happening in a character's mind. Dominic is at heart a good boy and turns down drug-addicted prostitutes while caring for his dying grandmother. Then he discovers, in a cache of old letters, that his mother did not die in childbirth as he had been told. His quest, and a lot of melodrama, begins.

Set vaguely in 1972, the plot of Saint-Narcisse expands to include a child's grave, lesbianism, witchcraft, a doppelganger for Dominic, a priest obsessed with a novice who might be the reincarnation of Saint Sebastian, monks in training who frolic in the nude like outtakes from a BelAmi production, and self-flagellation while jerking off to Eaton's catalogue underwear models. Some of the funding came from the venerable CBC, so naturally Saint-Narcisse expands into a fever dream mash-up of La famille Plouffe, The Parent Trap, Sebastiane and William Higgins' Double Czech. LaBruce gleefully mixes crystal clear Canadiana cinematography with satirically sloppy Sirkian green screen, hymns with horror film music clichés, always keeping the male pulchritude front and center. Duval is a stunningly beautiful man and while his acting veers from the wooden to the plastic, all is forgiven when his liquid eyes are in close-up or his clothing is doffed. And all is compensated for with dramatic scenery chewing from the legendary Andreas Apergis as the obsessed priest.

Emotions simmer and bubble but never quite boil over, LaBruce's dialogue can be interpreted, in grand B-movie style, as either intensely sincere or slyly comical. When the twins finally conjoin in a sizzling forest floor family reunion, they post-orgasmically discuss their dilemma and the priest with, as all closeted gay men of the '70s had, a souvenir replica of Michelangelo's David on his desk.

"How did you know?"

"The nuns. They love to gossip."

"Is he molesting you? That's not right."

"What we did is?"

"It's different, we're family."

The disparate tones all combine - after much drama, emoting and more nudity - in an audacious and apt feel-good ending, scored flawlessly by a guilty pleasure pop classic. Every rom-com, every climactic romantic clinch, that came before Saint-Narcisse is gleefully exploded and pansexuality reigns. The BLBCU has more heart than the MCU will ever muster.