"I Don't Believe There's Such a Thing as Half Cajun."
'Pointe Noire' | Pat Mire
Dear Moviegoers,
Not unlike how an oyster shucker cracks open shells of seafood, the hyper-acadian travelogue drama film Pointe Noire takes it upon itself to explain an ever-fading culture and highlight a near-isolated community by way of opening doors, even if by a "crack" or two. Director Pat Mire, one of the kings of Hollywood South independent filmmaking, has made a movie that succeeds at answering questions about the Cajun people while doing the business of entertainment- a feat worthy of beaucoup accolades.
Yes, travelogue this is. However, documentary this is not. And that is a symptom of an almost confused production. It's a haunting modern-day mystery narrative for sure, but one that feels like a PSA (public service announcement) for Louisiana. Maybe too much of a feeling?
Set practically on the edge of the Gulf of Mexico, Pointe Noire brings together two middle-aged rogues for good, a female attorney and a documentary filmmaker, with the goal of getting justice for a man who is in prison for a murder that he may not have committed. Folk justice, mind you. The two ask questions, revisit old footage, and are followed by shifty characters who'd rather the truth not come to light. It's perfect for a pulpy book to read over a few weekend afternoons.
Is it perfect for a movie, too? Nothing could be more perfect for cinema than a journey into the past of forgotten lore, amateur detectives sifting through clues and reading between difficult lines, romance and, especially, dramatic humanism told as seen and heard through a place where time stands still. Anything will stand still in such thick humidity, but we all age the same.
The two protagonists are essentially stand-ins for the real-life filmmaking couple Pat Mire and Rebecca Hudsmith, who have made a fantastical autobiography of their relationship, and cemented it in a film of saltwater magic. The filmmaker character, played by the stoic and mature Roy Dupuis (who has starred in some Guy Maddin flicks), is made of the quiet places that exist between metropolitan areas and cut from the cloth of pure Acadian design. For goodness sake, if a director ever casts a stand-in for themselves, they should go the Mire way and get a handsome loner who plays by his own rules.
My feelings on Pointe Noire being more encyclopedia about Cajun culture than a movie set within Cajun culture isn't completely without counterpoint. This is, most definitely, a cinematic tale, first and foremost. The opening sequence is a brilliantly cut together triptych, stitching together a story of how one's home and family can be close, even if far away. The mixing of music, the composition of the cinematography, and the precise editing make for a breathtaking vision that sets everything up with little said.
While I can't shake a handful of pieces here and there that overwhelm and distract from the story proper, I can state just how much love I have for Pointe Noire and its use of setting as character, and its stubborn but highly appreciated deep cuts into a community so isolated, somewhat secretive, and so ripe for storytelling. There's more to the Gulf Coast than seafood.
Look past the crawfish; everything can be found. 4/5