Victoria Day is set in Toronto in May of 1988. It tells the coming-of-age story of 16 year old Ben Spektor, a star hockey player, a passionate fan of 1960’s music and culture and the only son of protective Russian Jewish immigrant parents. “Ne delai glupostei!” “Don’t do anything foolish!” warns Ben’s mother, as he goes out to a rock concert with his friends. But Ben, as do all of us, is destined to do gluposti.
He begins by loaning money to his teammate, Jordan, to buy drugs. The next day Jordan disappears and Ben’s world is irrevocably changed in the aftermath. Ben is anxious over whether to disclose that he was one of the last people to see Jordan before he went missing. He also feels guilt over Jordan’s disappearance. These emotions are compounded by his feelings for Jordan’s sister, Cayla, even as his head is turned by a sexy redhead, Melanie. The potent mix of guilt, love and desire set Ben on the rocky path to self-discovery.
Victoria Day is an intelligent, well-observed film about a pivotal point in a teenager’s life. Often films about teenagers have come to connote tales of improbable shenanigans awash in kitsch, its main characters precious, post-modern self-parodies. If you want to see a film that does not suffer from this syndrome, see Victoria Day. It portrays the life of teenagers in an honest, authentic way. Like Bezmozgis’s short stories, this film is going to give you many moments of self-recognition.
Next Projection's Vera Vadim spoke with David over the phone about his new film, set to release on Friday, June 19th.
V: In the film Ben’s mother tell him: “ne delat glupostei!”. “Don’t to anything foolish!” Ben commits a pivotal glupost when, against his better judgment, he loans five dollars to his hockey teammate, Jordan, to buy drugs. Initially this event seems fairly insignificant but, then, it intersects with other unpredictable forces: may be it’s the ill will of other human beings or, simply, an accident; we never learn. But as a result of Ben’s actions and some of these other unknown factors Jordan disappears. There is a sense that something horrible may have happened to him.
This intersection between an act and other unpredictable intervening variables reminded me of your story “Tapka” from Natasha and Other Stories. In it a six year old boy learns in a traumatic way that his actions have consequences. In a moment of anger he throws a toy in the wrong direction for his beloved dog to chase. The trajectory of the toy intersects with that of a sparrow in flight. The dog gets confused and chases the sparrow into traffic. In this story, just like in the film, a seemingly harmless act but one that is done rashly, in a spirit of anger, intersects with an unpredictable variable and a disaster ensues. And in the film a similar thing happens. There is this pivotal event: Ben loans the money and the disaster ensues. What draws you to telling stories that hinge on this kind of a moment?
D: I think so much in life really works like that and I think a lot of filmmaking is constructed in [such a way] that there is a big event and that big event you can see almost from the moment that it happens is going to have ramifications. But I think life is, often, less like that and you can only look back in retrospect and connect the dots. At the time that you commit those acts you really don’t know what the consequences will be. But, then, if there are grave or important consequences, then, you start reflecting back to see what the origin of this was. So, that to me is interesting: how small . . . seemingly inconsequential acts, can ultimately lead to moments that define our lives.
V: The main character in the film, Ben, learns a complex set of lessons from the disastrous consequences that a mixture of his actions and other unpredictable variables produced. And one thing he seems to have learned, at least, towards the end of the film is that his actions have consequences. And, eventually, [he] shows signs . . . [of understanding] that this means that he ought to try to act thoughtfully and, indeed, morally. . . . Would it be accurate to say that in Victoria Day . . . you are interested in a kind of genealogy of how people move from acting rationally in the service of their self-interest to acting morally, that is, in a way that reflects their ability to empathize with others, to treat other people’s interests as comparable to their own?
D: . . . . Does he [Ben] become more moral? For me, I think, by the time you’re about his age, you’re as mature as you’re going to get. I think that the only difference between somebody who is seventeen and somebody who is fifty seven is that you are experiencing certain things for the first time, which is what makes it more dramatic. Do people err once, then change their ways for the rest of their lives and never make these kinds of mistakes again? I don’t think so. I think we continue to make these mistakes all the time and, I think, depending on what the mistakes are, what the consequences are, those make for good stories. Does Ben change at the end of the . . . [film]? I don’t really think of it in those terms. Mostly, because I think people are basically who they are by the time they’re sixteen or seventeen years old. . . .
V: If literature, or film, in this case, is a kind of a way to present stories that are well-observed and, as you were saying earlier, true to life, what is the function of the works of art that do that, beyond the fact that they document, that they show us something about how we are? Is there anything else?
D: There is a quote (I think it’s attributed to the late writer, David Foster Wallace) that art is there to disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed. I’ve always thought that that was a good summary.
V: Can you elaborate a little bit on what it means to you?
D: I don’t think so. In fact, I’d rather not. I think it’s pretty self-evident. Other people have said that art is there to make you feel less alone. If we are talking about art, we are talking about something that in telling the truth reveals those aspects of ourselves that we don’t normally talk about in polite society. Even though, I think, we live in a grossly confessional culture right now, what passes for confession is really narcissism. But in true art, it’s revelatory, as opposed to narcissistic.
V: It’s interesting that you’ve mentioned that with people at seventeen their characters are formed and they’re going to be pretty much [the same] decades later as well, but I also felt when I was watching the film that there are parts of the characters of these teenagers that are a little bit inscrutable. . . . . [For example, Ben and his two friends] . . . never made a pact to remain silent [about the fact that Ben saw Jordan on the day of his disappearance and loaned him money.] . . . [I]t strikes me as accurate of how teenagers would behave in such a situation. But it seems from an adult perspective implausible . . . not to have a discussion about whether we should say something or not. They never conspire not to tell. . . . it made me think how . . . things that teenagers do [can be] . . . a bit inscrutable. . . .
D: I think teenagers and adults are pretty much the same. The only difference is that teenagers don’t know where they are going to end up and by the time you’re an adult you’ve ended up there pretty much by the time you’re, I don’t know, thirty, and for most people you become calcified in whatever it is you’ve become. Teenagers—they haven’t yet. So, there is all this possibility for them. I think that’s really the only difference. As far as making them more inscrutable… do you remember the story of a woman who is in love with the astronaut; she was also an astronaut and they were having an affair?
V: Yes. That’s hard to forget, yes.
D: How old was this woman? Forty?
V: Yeah. She was around that age.
D: If you heard that a teenager had done this—a teenager had fallen in love? You know, they were high school sweethearts and one of them goes to university several hundred kilometers away; he goes off to McGill and the girl stays in Toronto and she finds out that her boyfriend is now dating another girl. It drives her crazy. She gets into the car. Puts on a diaper and drives to Montreal. People would say: “Yes, of course, she is a teenager. That’s crazy.” But I think the actions of people, as they get older, may be they are inscrutable in a slightly different way. Let me put it to you in a slightly different way: you’ve grown up in the Russian Jewish community, don’t you hear things, almost on a weekly basis that are just unspeakably crazy?
V: (laughs) For example?
D: People acting in just the strangest ways. For instance, can you not envision people acting in a completely ridiculous, outrageous way to get a subsidized apartment? You know: stratagems and lies and making fools of themselves in the way that they should know better?
V: Well, you know… I guess it depends on one’s frame of reference. . . . It would not make sense from a Canadian perspective perhaps. If I told a person who grew up in Canada some of the shenanigans going on, then, the reaction I would get . . . probably [would be]: “This is very inappropriate. This defies rationality.” But I left Soviet Union when I was fourteen. So to a great extent I was formed, also, by that culture. And in the context of that culture it does make a lot of sense. . . . There is “the apartment question.” People take it very seriously . . . so it makes sense within that culture. I suppose, it is a more desperate, culture in some ways.
D: But even among Russians, [or] . . . Russian Jews, are there not some stories that are even outrageous within the context of that culture? Like, does your mother never call you and tell you something that even to her seems extreme?
V: On occasion it happens.
D: On occasion (laughs). . . . Are you familiar with a show called Curb Your Enthusiasm?
V: No, I’ve heard of it but I have never watched it.
D: Well, here is a show . . . [about] a grown man who regularly does things that are impulsive but they have their own internal logic. And that logic is, kind of, accessible enough and universal enough that people watch the show and recognize themselves in some of the most extreme, ill-advised things that this guy does and they’re hilarious. He is sixty years old or something. You should rent it . . . and see if you identify with this guy. In my experience, I feel like, on a daily basis, I do things that I find embarrassing.
V: On a daily basis?
A: On a daily basis. I wish that I had more control over myself. . . . [I]f I did have that better self control over my own sub-conscious or my own anxieties . . . I would not act in this way that I regret almost immediately afterwards. And I don’t think that changed since I was sixteen or seventeen.
V: All right, I will rent the show. I’ll have to watch it now. . . .
D: . . . . I think movies about teenagers are usually very stupid. And I don’t think teenagers are stupid. And I think if they know that there are films out there that can be entertaining and intelligent at the same time, I think they’d like that.
V: Yeah. I think so.
D: I am on a campaign.
V: On a campaign to make more intelligent entertainment for teenagers?
D: Absolutely.
Godspeed.
Article by Vera Vadim
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Victoria Day: Official Website
http://www.victoriadaymovie.ca
Toronto, Sheppard Grande -Director in attendance for Q&A following Saturday 7:15PM screening (June 20).
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