As a film enthusiast and aspiring director myself, I find the journey of young Canadian talent like Chandler Levack truly inspiring. His ability to create such a personal piece, rooted deeply in his own experiences, while still managing to resonate with audiences far beyond the borders of Canada, is nothing short of remarkable.
A pirated Sum 41 album was copied onto a CD in a PT Cruiser. The sound of a VHS cassette rewinder closing. A DVD cover so frightening that one averts their gaze when passing it at Blockbuster. We once had tangible media to own or borrow. We once had video stores in every shopping center. We once were a genuine country, and in the darkly comical “I Like Movies”, that country was Canada. In her first film, writer-director Chandler Levack nostalgically recreates the suburbs of Greater Toronto Area from her early 2000s teenage years, including a fake video store. Coming from a background in film and music journalism, Levack tells the story of Lawrence Kweller, a teen movie enthusiast (portrayed by Isaiah Lehtinen), who is like Jack Black in “High Fidelity” but an emotionally disturbed kid with a fascination for Stanley Kubrick. The outcome is a coming-of-age masterpiece, perfect for the Letterboxd community, making you yearn to cherish your DVDs and reflect on your past mistreatment of your mother. Following its premiere at the 2022 Toronto International Film Festival, Levack’s film – humorously dubbed a “red-pilled Fabelmans” by her – is now available for purchase or rental in the U.S. Levack sat down with Vulture over egg creams and discussed hitting the “maple ceiling” and why she views this movie as an early intervention for future misogynist fans.
As a teenager, I found myself deeply immersed in pop culture, almost as if it were essential for my very existence. The movies and TV shows I watched became more than just entertainment; they were lifelines that connected me to a world beyond my suburban upbringing. When Joey and Pacey shared their first kiss on Dawson’s Creek, it was as though I experienced the thrill of first love vicariously through them. The Strokes’ debut album and Paul Thomas Anderson’s films became an integral part of my soul, resonating with me in a primal, visceral way.
As a movie enthusiast, I longed to create a teen flick that mirrored my own adolescent journey, which often involved idling in parking lots, waiting for my mom to arrive. This film wouldn’t be about the protagonist attending the prom or having typical romantic entanglements; instead, it’d revolve around him grappling with his own narcissism and feelings of entitlement. That was a snapshot of my final year in high school. Back then, my fascination with New York City was palpable – I’d even walk the halls performing some bizarre visualization exercises, imagining myself in the East Village, a place I’d never visited. I believe many teenagers can relate to this sense of isolation and misunderstanding; it feels more endearing on a 16-year-old boy than it did on my 16-year-old self, working at Blockbuster.
In a unique twist, I chose to craft a coming-of-age tale about a boy instead of the more common choice for a female director. The inspiration behind this decision stemmed from my initial consultation with a fellow filmmaker who questioned, “Why is it about a boy? It seems challenging. It would be advantageous to secure Canadian arts funding if the protagonist was a woman.” However, altering the gender of my main character allowed for a more authentic and honest portrayal due to the detachment I could maintain as a filmmaker. Additionally, avoiding constant comparisons to ‘Lady Bird’ helped ensure the movie stood on its own merits.
Due to my career as a pop culture critic starting at age 18, my entire professional and artistic growth was largely influenced by men – whether they were mentors, romantic partners, or individuals I sought to impress. It leaves me feeling somewhat guilty towards them, as many seem damaged, confused, and struggle to interact appropriately with others, particularly women. I believe this stems from their consumption of toxic male art. I often pondered about their high school years and contemplated ways to intervene early in their lives or guide them towards healing, preventing them from becoming harmful critics or resembling figures like Darren Aronofsky in seven scarves. Despite their negative impact on my life – seeking to emulate them, craving their affection, and yearning for validation – I find myself filled with compassion for them because they’ve played significant roles in shaping my existence. It struck me that they were once 16-year-olds shedding tears in a video store, watching “Punch Drunk Love” in solitude. This character presents an intriguing subject for exploration.
The intriguing dynamic between Lawrence, the teenage employee, and his older female boss at the video store is a captivating exploration. It’s fascinating to see a self-assured adolescent with grand visions of the future, collide with an adult woman who bears the brunt of his immaturity, while also reflecting each other’s struggles and causing harm. This dynamic seems to resonate with societal norms that have historically positioned women in a supporting role to men, particularly in creative fields. I believe that women often find themselves pondering men’s thoughts and feelings more frequently. In many of my discussions with peers, we tend to attribute deeper emotions and motivations to men than they may actually possess, and justify their actions. Consequently, it seems plausible that women excel at crafting male characters, as they are constantly dissecting men’s behavior.
There’s a real gap in representation in terms of women telling stories about men, seeing men at a different angle than they can see themselves. I grew up consuming every coming-of-age movie made by a man. I skipped my frosh week so I could go see Garden State. Now I look back and think, Why was that so important to me? Why wasn’t there a female Garden State?
The film’s introduction takes place during “Rejects Night,” a video produced by Lawrence together with his friend Matt Macarchuck. How did you achieve that authentic early 2000s homemade-video style and humor?
Regarding the film’s emotional impact, it’s humorously engaging most of the time, yet when it delves into serious moments, it leaves a profoundly sad impression. Can you explain how you managed to strike such a balance in the tone?
How did the transition from being an arts journalist for over a decade to actually producing your own movie come about? It had been brewing in the back of my mind since my cringe-worthy high school filmmaking days. I had the urge, but I wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. I went to film school at the University of Toronto, but my education was so intense and theoretical that it made me doubt my ability to make films. I thought, “I’m no Godard or Jane Campion.” Fear held me back from even trying. However, being a critic provided a safe space that was close to what I wanted to do. I adored film criticism. I was inspired by Pauline Kael and Wesley Morris, and I admired Chuck Klosterman, who was my ’90s Gen-X idol. I interned at Spin magazine when I was 20, and there’s a unique, humorous allure to being a critic, where your CD reviews were printed out and displayed next to the CDs in record stores, making me feel like I was contributing something meaningful. But it was a quiet voice that grew louder and louder until it became a deafening roar. At the same age when many women feel the need to start a family, it felt like I needed to make a film. So then I had to figure out, “Who will help me create this film?
You had to give birth to Lawrence.
My beautiful son!
How challenging was the process of selecting the extraordinary child for the role, given his pivotal presence throughout the entire film? It required someone who could captivate and win over the audience with their charisma, likeability, and charm, despite portraying questionable behavior at times. Yet, they needed to have a unique, edgy quality that made them believable as an underdog. If the actor was too polished or typical, it would compromise the film’s integrity. After conducting a nationwide search in Canada, Gabriel LaBelle from “The Fabelmans” auditioned and impressed us.
Sammy Fabelman! Another young cinephile!
My editor saw it and she was like, “Oh my God, Chandler! There’s a panic-attack scene! There’s a year-end senior video!” Both movies came out at the same time, and some people at TIFF did double-bills. I think you have to watch this one first. Or maybe it’s a good Fabelmans chaser. It’s shorter!
But Isaiah got the part.
I watched 100 audition tapes, and it was so weird watching people who were 30 years old and 12 years old all pretending to be Lawrence. Isaiah was one of the last people who auditioned. His tape wasn’t what I was expecting, but it was so much more interesting and complex. There was this sincerity in his voice, and that conviction. I remember my mom watched his tape, and it was the scene where he screams at his mom at the dinner table. She said, “He’s a really great actor. He’s got a star power to him. But he’s too much like you, and people are not gonna like that.”
As a film enthusiast, I couldn’t help but exclaim, “It seems he nailed the role.” For a debut feature, especially one that’s deeply personal, it’s crucial that the actor and the director share a connection where the performer truly feels like the story’s author. The films and performances I admire most are those that embody their actors completely: Elsie Fisher in “Eighth Grade” and Jason Schwartzman in “Rushmore.” These movies, quite simply, are their characters.
Did you assign him some movie tasks? Indeed, he’s more into anime, but I assigned him movies he hadn’t seen yet – “Ghost World”, “Rushmore”, and “Frances Ha”. He found the last one a bit daunting as it made him feel anxious about growing up. We watched “Shrek” together and its Christmas special, “Shrek the Halls”, over Zoom during the pandemic. It was our first in-person meeting only two weeks before shooting, but we had already spent countless hours conversing by then.
Romina D’Ugo, who portrays Alana, displays an extraordinary talent as well. She submitted a self-tape audition, and I wasn’t previously aware of her work. However, she was featured in the first season of So You Think You Can Dance Canada. Given her background as a dancer, her physical presence is incredibly captivating. Moreover, I find their pairing delightful.
As a filmmaker who poured my heart into this project during the pandemic-stricken days in Burlington, living with my dad, it was nothing short of surreal to finally unveil my labor of love to the world. I was in the unique position of editing the entire movie from home, confined by a cast and crutches due to a broken leg, just three weeks after wrapping up the filming. It was like living through a “Rear Window” summer, as I grappled with my newfound freedom and the responsibility of shaping this deeply personal work.
Could we possibly tailor the selection to appeal to the type of movie enthusiasts we’re aiming for? I’d be more than willing to trade my services for any of their Criterion DVD collection.
In a surprising turn of events, an independently produced Canadian film titled “I Like Movies” has been generating quite a buzz and attracting sold-out screenings in New York. I’d love to share some insights on how this distinctly Canadian production came together.
How come is it that? English Canadian cinema has often been viewed with a stigma, as being inferior or having an uncanny resemblance to American films, but not quite fitting the mold. Few Canadian movies seem designed for mass appeal, and even Canadians often aren’t aware of their existence due to lack of marketing. This makes it difficult for these films to succeed. While making this film, I thought, “I’ll be the exception to the rule, the successful Canadian movie.” Yet, I can’t secure U.S. distribution. It feels like we’re constantly bumping into a maple ceiling, as there are so many obstacles and fragmented opportunities in the industry.
This film carries a distinct Canadian flavor, and it’s significant that it became the first to highlight Burlington, Ontario. Capturing the essence of where one grew up is essential. There’s a complex love-hate bond with our roots that most people share. The day we toured Burlington and filmed the abandoned malls and parking lots using a Panavision camera was particularly impactful for me. As someone often haunted by nostalgia, I feel like I create movies to comprehend peculiar aspects of my life and progress beyond them. In essence, these films serve as a form of immersive therapy, allowing me to find peace with my teenage years.
So, what’s your upcoming project? I plan to film my second independent movie this coming summer. [Author’s note: This conversation took place earlier in the year. Levack filmed in Montreal during the summer.] It’s a movie with an indie-sleaze theme. The story unfolds in 2011 and revolves around my personal experiences within the Montreal indie-rock scene. It follows a young, female music critic who moves to Montreal to write about Alanis Morissette’s album, “Jagged Little Pill,” but then becomes fixated on a questionable band member. The production is being handled by Matt Johnson and Matt Miller, who were also behind the film “Blackberry.” This project will delve into my experiences during my early 20s.
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2024-11-07 23:54