When René looks at Helena, we're not sure what he sees. A humane reflection? A scientist observing what's crawling under her magnifying glass? A bourgeois woman taking a pitiful interest in his pathetic and tragic story? A friend, a lover, a mother? 

When René looks at Helena, and we watch René look at her, we see all these relationships taking shape; a wary, lucid ambivalence that prevents him from completely letting his guard down.

When we watch René look at us through the camera's lens, with his mocking, sad gaze, we can see in his pupils the obstructed horizon of the jail cell, the cul-de-sac of his life.

The carceral system is a life sentence for the most destitute. Found guilty of having been rejected by society, we find pariahs whose most shameful crime is losing the lottery of privilege. An absurdly fatal ouroboros of injustice and exclusion.

René's greatest tragedy is probably being aware of this. And the compassionate gaze we, the audience, cast on René doesn't offer any solutions.

Every man for himself. The camera saves nothing. But sometimes, a look can.

Naomie Décarie-Daigneault
Tënk's Artistic Director