OUR MOVIE REVIEW:

Paul Schrader’s Oh, Canada is a contemplative exploration of legacy, regret, and the contradictions that define a person’s life. Anchored by a subtle yet commanding performance from Richard Gere, the film unfolds with the deliberate pacing and emotional depth that have come to define Schrader’s work. Gere plays Leonard Fife, a celebrated documentarian nearing the end of his life, who agrees to an interview to lay bare the truths—and lies—that shaped his career and personal life. What emerges is an unflinching portrait of a man confronting the myth he created and the damage left in its wake. Through this deeply introspective narrative, Schrader crafts a film as patient as it is poignant.

The story spans multiple timelines, moving between Leonard’s present-day confessions and memories of his younger self, played with restless energy by Jacob Elordi. These flashbacks delve into pivotal moments, such as Leonard’s reckoning with the Vietnam War draft and his tumultuous early years as an artist. Elordi portrays the younger Leonard as impulsive and conflicted, his choices rippling through the decades. The dynamic between Gere and Michael Imperioli, as Leonard’s former student turned interviewer, adds understated tension, while Uma Thurman as Leonard’s wife, Emma, provides a steady yet emotionally charged counterpoint. Thurman’s performance is particularly affecting as a woman forced to reckon with her own complicity in Leonard’s carefully curated legacy.

Visually, Oh, Canada is captivating, with Paul Schrader employing four distinct visual styles to mirror Leonard’s fragmented memories. Each approach—brought to life through Andrew Wonder’s evocative cinematography—heightens the film’s emotional resonance. The trip to the Canadian border is shot in wide-screen, bleached tones, reflecting the stark emotional weight of that period. By contrast, the present-day interview scenes are confined to a muted, intimate aspect ratio, while other memories shift into stark black-and-white or burst with vibrant, 1960s-inspired colors. These deliberate choices immerse the audience in Leonard’s fractured psyche, making his introspection feel both tangible and deeply affecting.

Schrader’s restraint as both writer and director allows the film’s themes to resonate without feeling heavy-handed. Leonard is neither hero nor villain but a flawed man grappling with his choices and their consequences. Schrader revisits his recurring theme of self-destruction with a fresh intimacy, presenting Leonard’s honesty as both a reckoning and a dismantling of the myth he’s built. While the film’s deliberate pace may challenge some viewers, Schrader rewards patience with a narrative rich in emotional complexity. Oh, Canada is less concerned with redemption and more with the raw, unvarnished truths that emerge when one confronts the myths of their own life.

In Oh, Canada, Schrader delivers one of his most intimate and visually ambitious films. Richard Gere’s performance—layered with vulnerability and defiance—anchors a story that refuses to offer easy answers. The film reflects on the weight of legacy, the stories we tell ourselves, and the parts of ourselves we try to keep hidden. By the end, Leonard Fife is stripped of his myth, leaving behind a portrait of a flawed but profoundly human man. Schrader once again proves that he is a master at dissecting the darkest corners of the human psyche, crafting a film that is as haunting as it is heartfelt.