MOVIES AT LA PLAZA—FOG OF FEBRUARY: The man, his work, and his actions

Movie Review by Sergio Martinez

The subject of this documentary recently released in Montreal should stir up some old quarrels and reopen the discussion on a case that many would prefer to keep closed. Most likely, however, this will not be the case: Fog of February (Onze jours en février) is showing in only a few theatres in Montreal.

Claude Jutra (1930-1986) was, until 2016, one of the most revered personalities in the cultural milieu of the province of Quebec. Like many intellectuals of that time, he was also a fervent separatist, to the point of having refused to accept the Order of Canada, which had been conferred on him by the federal government. Considered one of the fathers of modern Quebec cinema, Jutra first became known for his film À tout prendre (1963) and especially Mon oncle Antoine (1971). By the 1980s Jutra began to succumb to Alzheimer's and in 1986 he committed suicide by throwing himself into the St. Lawrence River from the Jacques Cartier Bridge. Thirty years later, however, he would fall into disgrace and become practically a missing person in the province's modern history.

Once a revered Quebec celebrity,
Jutra became a non-person in a record time

This film directed by Jean-Claude Coulbois examines the eleven days in February 2016 between the moment a biography of the filmmaker written by journalist Yves Lever (1942-2020) was released, in which it is mentioned that Jutra would have sexually abused several children, to the moment when, after the controversy triggered, the provincial government, the film institutions in Quebec and even the municipal authorities, literally erased the presence of the filmmaker from the collective memory.

In his film, Coulbois makes a detailed presentation of the facts, beginning by situating Jutra's impact on Quebec cinema for an audience that has probably never heard of Jutra, except in a negative context, and then reconstructing, based on archival material and several interviews with people who knew the case, what this process of prosecution and condemnation, carried out in record time, was like.

Strictly speaking, it must be admitted that overall, the film takes a very critical look at the process by which Jutra went from being a key figure in Quebec culture and identity to a disgusting villain. Jutra was known to be homosexual but there had never been any indication that he engaged in acts of pederasty. Moreover, the revelations in Lever's book were more like hearsay or rumours as the people alluded to remained anonymous.

A monument to Jutra, now removed

It is precisely this speed of action that the film highlights: the then Minister of Culture, Helene David, appears giving instructions to remove the filmmaker's name from the annual Québec Cinéma awards, and the same orders are given to municipalities to change the name of streets or parks that honoured Jutra, the then federal Minister of Canadian Heritage, Mélanie Joly, moves with equal speed.  This is especially highlighted in interviews with lawyer Jean-Claude Hébert, filmmaker Denys Arcand, and producer Rock Demers.

Quebec filmmaker Denys Arcand
was surprised by the speed of the process

This is the central point of the film, which does not attempt to rehabilitate the filmmaker or to reopen a case that has never been heard in court. In this sense, Fog of February (Onze jours en Février) should make us reflect on the scope that an accusation as serious as pederasty can have.

Undoubtedly, the #MeToo movement that arose precisely in the film industry to denounce sexual abuse committed by powerful men in Hollywood has contributed to denouncing and -we hope- discouraging and criminalizing this type of conduct that occurs in many other spheres of public life. However, this is an important warning call that this film makes, in a democracy, there must always be due process. Before condemning and especially before erasing the artistic work of a person, it must be clear that his or her work should not suffer the consequences of the reprehensible actions which its creator may have incurred in his or her private life.

A COMPLEX SITUATION, BUT CAN PEOPLE AND THEIR WORK BE ERASED?

The issue of sexual abuse, especially in the artistic-cultural milieu, but also in politics and the business world, has been in the headlines for some time now. The #MeToo movement contributed in an important way to reveal these abuses, and it is certainly good that it has been so. But beware, this should not mean overlooking the fact that there are other dimensions to consider as well. In Montreal, there was the case of Charles Dutoit, controversial conductor of the Montreal Symphony Orchestra (OSM) who, on the one hand, made a remarkable contribution to the development of that musical ensemble. Dutoit, however, was also accused of sexual abuse and now when the radio plays a song recorded by the OSM when he conducted, his name is omitted.

Woody Allen, a celebrated director whose contribution to the art of filmmaking cannot be denied, was also the target of accusations that were nevertheless dismissed by the courts and the child protection agency. It was then determined in those legal instances that his ex-wife, Mia Farrow, had influenced the children to make those accusations. Despite that, Allen's films have been the target of hostility, and more than once exhibitions of his works have been cancelled.

Spanish tenor Plácido Domingo, meanwhile, has been accused of sexual harassment by some of the female singers with whom he has performed throughout his long career. In 2019 when those allegations came to public light he was forced to resign as artistic director of the Los Angeles Opera. The following year he issued a public apology for making some of his colleagues uncomfortable, however, he reiterated that he had done nothing to cause harm. The tenor no longer performs in the United States, but in Spain, he is still considered one of its iconic artists.

The problem is that while sexual abuse duly proven or recognized before judicial institutions should undoubtedly affect the personal reputation of the artist who engages in such conduct, on the other hand, it should not affect the access and study of his or her work, nor should it erase his or her artistic contribution.