Guy Édoin’s first feature-length film, Marécages , or Wetlands (2011) for those of us still working on our French skills, is a haunting and murky examination of the dark drama that invades and reshapes a family’s life; dairy farmer and patriarch Jean Santerre (Luc Picard), his wife Marie (Pascal Bussières) and their teenage son Simon (Gabriel Maillé).
The family farm is facing a drought and money is so tight that in order to just scrape by that means even sharing bathwater, much to Simon’s disgust. Crisis has met the family far before where we pick up with them in the film and we get a hint of that after one of their cows gives birth to a stillborn calf. Props, by the way, to Pascal Bussières and Luc Picard for actually helping the cow give birth. Jean blames Simon for not getting there in time to save it and that is the audience’s first hint that there is something that runs much deeper than failing to save a stillborn calf between the father and son but it isn’t until much later that we learn the double meaning behind Jean’s complaint.
Marécages doesn’t actually let us into the family’s life, we never get a full sense of what’s going through each of the character’s minds. Marie and Jean appear cold and distant as parents towards Simon, their sullen and sulking teenage son. But their distance is explained with the shot of the family portrait and a young child is shown next to Simon. Marie explains to Pierre, that their other son drowned as a result of Simon not getting to him in time.
As events occur in the film, there is very little explanation of the hows and whys of it all and in this sense, the audience are very much positioned as voyeurs of the Santerre life, much like how Simon looks through windows and doors. It is only after Jean’s funeral that we get a glimpse of Marie’s emotional state, after she snatches her hand away from Simon’s and then forces him out at the side of the road when he tries to tell her it was an accident. For the rest of the film, Marie goes into a disaffected-alcoholic state that is partially fueled by Pierre, the passerby Simon flags down for help after his father’s accident.
The passing of time is treated as if it’s being ignored in the film but never really being sure of just how much time has elapsed between certain events reinforces the idea that life moves at a different pace in different parts of Canada. Essentially time plays out as something that isn’t charted by hours or days and it isn’t until Jean’s mother pulls Marie aside at the fair that we find out it’s only been two months since Jean’s death.
The film kind of plays out like a whodunnit as well – with little hints to past events and character histories. The audience is given pieces that they thread together over the course of the film but none of those pieces answer any of the questions, such as did Simon let his brother drown on purpose? Did he intend for his father to die? There’s an Oedipal-like quality to Simon if the answers to those questions is yes. It’s not completely clear if he wants off the farm as much as Marie never wanted to be a farmer’s wife to begin with and takes action – or simply takes advantage of unfortunate and terrible accidents as opportunities.
Long and languid shots enhance the beautiful cinematography, especially since it was shot on film. Farmland, lakes and sunlight are intertwined to shape the feel of the surrounding area and the sense of limbo that everyone appears to be existing within. For me, the sense of detachment and attachment between the characters are what make the film stand out. The circumstances of the Santerre family play out like the kind of gossip you would hear about a family in a small town. Rumors circulate and assumptions are made but in terms of the film, no definitive answers are or can be given because the people who are actually involved never discuss the situation and family secrets they themselves have been keeping. It’s the careful examination of family and secrets that makes Marécages could be just about anyone’s family and that’s what makes it both unsettling and intriguing.
