AFF Review: Two Lovers and a Bear
Take note, Leo – Two Lovers and a Bear goes to show you can make a film where everyone looks cold most of the time and not make a big deal about it.
The latest feature from Canadian Oscar nominee Kim Nguyen (Rebelle) is not quite as outdoorsy as The Revenant, but does provide a rather uncompromising look at beauty and challenges of life in Canada’s Far North and love in the aftermath of trauma.
Tatiana Maslany and Dane DeHaan portray Lucy and Roman, a couple living in a fly-in community in Nunavut.The central conflict in their relationship at the film’s outset is their need to each escape personal traumas. While Lucy plans to move south and away from the abuser who haunts her, Roman moved north to flee an abusive father and is very reluctant to go “back there.”
However, it is the empathy they feel from their shared experience of trauma that enables them to pull together and support one another amid the ripple-effects of their abuse – paranoia and alcoholism among them.
At various points, it’s a grim relationship drama, a road movie with a few laughs, and a horror film. There’s also a bit of magical realism thrown in for good measure. While some may find the film’s tonal shifts off-putting, they are a reflection both of life and of the story’s Arctic setting.
People naturally find humour amid tragedy. Emotionally, we can walk and chew gum at the same time, which is why we see Lucy and Roman on the verge of collapse and planning for a future together. Similarly, the North is simultaneously beautiful and bleak. We are treated to vistas of tundra and Aurora Borealis alongside shots of the characters riding their snowmobiles through a snow-covered garbage dump. And while there is comfort in the solitude of the barren landscape, there is also danger in the isolation.
With minimal scoring or other music, quietness conveys isolation and realism. The perceived tranquility of the setting makes any noise feel like an intrusion. It is the sound of loud engines – from snowmobiles, cars, and airplanes – that most often cuts through the silence and through a southern audience’s romanticized idea of the North as a land of sled dogs and snow shoes.
The quiet of the external environment extends to the interior scenes, as well. In the third act, horror movie-style silence builds anxiety leading to the film’s climax. And the sex scenes lack music, which is rare enough in film that watching them feels more like an invasion of privacy than is typical.
Lucy and Roman, too, display moments of silence contrasted with loud emotional outbursts. Maslany’s ability to convey more with her face than many actors can with pages of dialogue is on full display when Lucy retreats into her own mind while the camera lingers on her face. Similarly, Roman is at times withdrawn from Lucy, but they each urge the other to communicate. Both actors excel at balancing their characters’ darkness with moments of levity.
While these various juxtapositions (of tone, scenery, and sound) may feel awkward at times, such is life, and somehow even a talking polar bear don’t undermine the realism of this tragic love story.
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