Today was as good a day in Montreal as it gets in this ridiculous weather. It was a little less frigid than it's been (-10C) and the skies were clear so it was great for walking around, so long as you had your gloves, scarf, hat, boots and wool coat with you... After a lunch of roast chicken and fish and chips at a local supermarket, Loblaws, we took the Metro to Montreal's Museum of Contemporary Art. Smack in the heart of town, the museum is situated within a larger building known as the Place-des-Arts which is essentially the city's premier arts venue. There are a couple of theatres (the Nutcracker was playing at the matinee today), a performing studio, the museum and a wonderful music and books store, Archambault that Jude & I have always liked. As students, we only had to pay $3 for entry into the museum today and it was a nice way to spend the afternoon. They were having an Isaac Julien exhibition which included three of his film installations. They weren't presented in your usual single screen format but split into three adjacent screens, which lent itself to the narrative in a rather provocative way actually. It was interesting I guess, but not really my cup of tea. I guess when it comes to art, I'm still a bit of a purist- if it's not hanging on a wall or displayed on a stand, it takes me a little while to warm to it. I went to a modern German art exhibition once where one of the displays was an open briefcase with a bottle of Maggi seasoning sauce inside. Go figure- I didn't get it then, and I still don't get it now. Give me a Chagall or a Giacometti anyday.
We hung around Archambault for a while after that hoping to find something interesting, which you know we did of course... But we had to keep grabbing stuff off each other, reminding ourselves that on a graduate student budget, over-shopping would be a sin even we couldn't forgive ourselves for (I guess over-shopping is a sin even if we weren't in school...) So as sensible students, we decided to blow the money on something more constructive; we went to watch a movie.
Two blocks east of the Place-des-Arts is Boulevard St. Laurent, a 6 km-long street which starts with Chinatown down south and ends with the Latin Quarter in the north. In between, you can find just about everything- from electronic shops to hip boutiques, the Just For Laughs headquarters to an oxygen bar (yes, they do "serve" pure oxygen- it gives you a real high apparently...). We ended up at the Ex-Centris, a small but very chic movie theatre (read: black marble decor, metallic ornaments, no staff below the age of 25, and a wine bar). We've been dying to watch A Very Long Engagement and where better to watch a French film than in Francophone Canada? The movie was great. Audrey Tatou was luminous as usual (although Jude thinks she only has one expression- that cross between bewilderment and profound adoration) but it was the direction and plot that took my breath away. Jean-Pierre Jeunet is best known for Amelie (which I love) and The City of Lost Children (which I don't; Jude on the other hand loves Delicatessen); but A Very Long Engagement reminds everyone why Jeunet continues to be one of France's beloved directors- he is a great story-teller. He so lovingly weaves the characters and plots together and then uses the cinematography (as well as Angelo Badalamenti's stirring score) to such sumptuous effect that you forget the movie goes on for a good two-half hours. It's like reading a really gripping mystery novel that makes you fall in love with everyone in it. Many say the heart of the film is a love story, but I think it's more accurate to think of it as a tapestry of love stories. In war, love becomes something even more rare, more precious, and so much more in need to be clung on to, whether through vengeance, sacrifice or just sheer hope. Jude and I both think this was very, very well-done and definitely worth a second viewing. Trust us, it's that kind of a movie. Good stuff.
Then what better way to top off a great day than with a good dinner? When one thinks of good food in Montreal, one invariably thinks of smoked meat; and when you think of smoked meat, eveyone knows you go straight to Schwartz's. A Montreal institution for over 70 years, celebrities and dignitaries share seats with the common grocer and policeman in this small Jewish deli. The smoked meat is out-of-this-world delicious and... actually, there isn't an "and"- that's just it, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful smoked meat. People have been known to not just travel all the way to Montreal to eat here, they bring back with them pounds of the conveniently frozen version so they can slowly savor the there's-so-much-fat-in-the-meat-but-who-cares-if-it-clogs-my-arteries goodness of Schwartz's without standing in line in the cold or cramming in with 50 other people in a place made for 30. We once even overheard a guy sitting next to us gloating on his phone to his friend in the States that he was having Schwartz's smoked meat at that moment. Literally gloating. Anyway, Jude and I gratefully wolfed down two portions of smoked meat, a steak, a plate of fries, a bowl of coleslaw and a pickle. And we were happy.
Without a doubt, I thoroughly enjoyed myself today, and I have a satisfied stomach, tired feet and a full heart to show for it. Did all my favorite things, in my favorite city and with my favorite person- what more can a girl ask for? Coffee maybe, and that... well, I'm having it now.
No comments:
Post a Comment