Cinema Canada (Apr-May 1978)

« ; I remember one night Bozo (Allan Moyle) telling about the traumas of choosing a title for a film. At one point there was a mural stretched half-way across his loft scribbled with possible titles. I had always assumed The Rubber Gun got it’s name the night Pam Holmes and Pammy Marchant were supposed to meet Peter Brawley and Pierre Robert for a night of dancing at the limelight (Stanley St. below St. Catherine). When Marchant and Holmes got there, the bouncer told them there were no girls allowed in that night. Highly insulted as only Holmes and Marchant can be insulted, they “held up” the bouncer, and walked into the club, the only two women there. Of course, it was not a real gun, but the bouncer didn’t know that and called the police. By further “holding up” a few other people they all managed to leave before the Jaw arrived. Then they made their way to the now defunct Orient Express (McKay St. below Sherbrooke). In the Orient that night was a man who owed Pierre Robert money, but the debt had been forgotten a long time ago. Pierre sat down next to him, and saying a casual “‘Hi’’, he stuck the gun into his old friend’s ribs. No one has ever forgotten the look on that man’s face. I don’t know if that’s how the film got it’s name but the rest of the story is true. Then there was the Christmas, prior to the release of Montreal Main when Brawley called me up to a very private little Christmas party being held at a rather opulent Sherbrooke Street address. Everyone there was dressed opulently, and at midnight, three maids served an opulent Christmas dinner in the opulent dining room. Everyone was waiting for Stephen Lack to arrive. When he made his entrance, as only Mr. Lack can make an entrance, he was wearing jeans, his hair was an opulent mess, and his shirt was hanging out from under his sweater. I know you’ve all been dying for me to get here so you can get stoned, but really, I don’t have anything. Then he escorted a select group into an opulent bathroom, where the temperature dropped considerably. Then there was a taxi ride to Lack’s now defunct loft (Coloniale & Prince Arthur), where the temperature continued to drop. To be fair, though, part of this was due to the fact that Lack’s loft had one outstanding feature; it wasn’t heated, something you’re apt to notice during the Christmas season if you live in Montreal. And now, to Lack’s amusement, he was taking pictures of us consuming our after dinner anesthetic. In the chaos I wondered how he and his crew were going to pull off a feature film. I love John Hofsess’ line describing Montreal Main as “a plucky dance in the face of adversity”... he wasn’t kidding; no heat is adverse to me. 66 When Montreal Main opened at the Elysée (Milton & Clark) to a standing-room-only crowd, I was stunned. In spite of the odds — and they seemed endless — they had done it. The cast, and their friends stayed in the lobby during most of the films, checking now and then, to see which lines had gotten the laughs. Stephen commented that “the reviews will be great, but who were those rude people out in the lobby who made so much noise?”, which was when one of the Bronfmans’ walked out of the film. P.M. Massé-Connolly took part, and wrote things down, and photographed it all. She also recently made her acting début in Lois Seigel’s Recipe to Cook a Clown. 24/Cinema Canada Within Mr. Bronfman’s earshot, Stephen commented that “there goes a man with silver hubcaps on his car...” After the screening, 500 people made their way down to The Silver steamed hotdog stand (lower St. Lawrence Blvd.) where the last scene in the film had been shot. There were free hotdogs and cokes to celebrate this first post-premiere party, and Marchant managed to hustle enough quarters to take 4 for 25’s of almost everyone there, all the time the regulars on the Main wondering why their hotdog stand was so packed, and on a Wednesday night. Even the police stopped, curious to see what the commotion was about. Perhaps the biggest surprise, though, was when not only the English press decided it loved the film, but the French press ran page after page of rave reviews, and ran huge shots of Johnny Sutherland. photo: P. M. Massé-Connolly Lewis Furey (right) at an opening oO £ ck’s pictures at Vehicule Art. That same strange thing happened when L’Ange et la femme (a wonderfully prurient film by Gilles Carle, starring Carole Laure and Lewis Furey who scored both that film and The Rubber Gun) had it’s premiere. It was by invitation only, which meant that the bulk of the audience was French, and Lack, who had five minutes in the film, and the only English lines, received unanimous and spontaneous applause after his lines. Stunned again, I looked at Lack who looked like a cynical five-year-old on Christmas morning who just got more than he had asked for. A few years ago I had walked into the Rainbow Bar & Grill (Stanley St. above St. Catherine), and asked the bartender if anyone good was playing that night. He told me, yes, there was this new guy, Lewis Furey, and he was great, I shouldn’t miss him. He couldn’t really describe his music but it was something well worth catching. The bartender was right, and I went back every night, and so did Lack who would lie on the floor, and take roll after roll of film. Soon, Lack was taking roll after roll of film at the Hotel Nelson (Place Jacques Cartier), while Lewis played to ovation after ovation, charming everyone, strolling through the audience with his viola and singing “Louise’’. Then one night Ahmet Ertegun was in the audience, signed Lewis up to a record contract, and he was off to Hollywood. Lack later did both of his album jackets, and co-wrote “Top Ten Sexes” with him on the second album, “The Humours of Lewis Furey’’.