Some of My Friends

In this nearly two-hour documentary, marked by gentleness and delicacy, almost nothing happens. Silence abounds, extended static shots dominate, and yet, boredom is the last thing one feels as time flows by like magic—proof that constant action is far from the only key to fascination and engagement. With her usual finesse and subtlety, Quebec filmmaker Catherine Martin films with disarming simplicity and palpable affection, portraying seven of her friends in a sincere and unpretentious desire to share her admiration, respect, and esteem for these seven individuals—seven artists—who are as extraordinary as they are ordinary. The extraordinary is evident in the many examples of their work that the director chooses to show onscreen. The ordinary, in turn, is highlighted through Martin’s literal approach to portraiture, capturing each person in classical poses traditionally associated with painted and photographic portraiture: full-length or mid-shot, seated or standing in relaxed postures, looking directly into the camera without any particular expression. This allows viewers to read their souls through their impressions of the subjects and their respective environments. These are people like us, the film tells us.

One might assume that filming her friends would result in a relatively trivial individualistic exercise, focused on personal tastes, interests, and feelings. And yet, as often happens when such a subject falls into the hands of a true artist who masterfully wields the language of the medium, the intimate becomes universal, producing a film graced with elegance. Some of My Friends adopts a particularly unique rhythm—very slow, filled with stillness and pauses that weave a cadence akin to ebb and flow. This rhythm punctuates the overarching narrative thread as well as each of the seven living tableaux crafted around the seven personalities featured. These moments of contemplation and meditation give the entire work the rhythm of a breath. A calm, serene film that provides solace in uncertain times.

Claire Valade
Critic and programmer