The Day to Come Is a Bright New Day

Breakfast has always been much more than a simple meal: it is often a ritual, a call to action, a vital impulse in which the promise of a new day is reflected in the dark brew of coffee. With his Super 8 camera, French filmmaker Jean-Baptiste Mees, like a traveller from another time and space, captures the essence of these Montréal diners, where coffee refills keep coming, orders are often summed up by a reassuring “the usual,” and the waitress calls you “honey.”

Here, regulars open up with disarming simplicity. Sometimes, all it takes is the smallest question for an entire life to unfold before us. People come here to eat, but also to reconnect with familiar faces, old habits, and a certain comfort in the unchanging nature of these places. “A restaurant is, above all, a place to restore yourself,” one woman reminds us. A world away from third-wave cafés and other establishments born of the gentrification of working-class neighbourhoods, these modest diners offer something even more precious: a refuge. A place where, for the duration of a meal, the world seems to stand still. Even the disasters and uncertainties that disrupt our daily lives appear, for a moment, to be kept at bay.

As we contemplate these thoughtful faces behind their cups of coffee, we come to understand that having breakfast here may be a way of finding our footing in the world again. There is something reminiscent of the experience of a cinema: solitary lives gathered together in the same space. Perhaps that is where the strength of these places lies: in allowing us to be alone together. One thing is certain: by the time the film ends, you’ll have just one thing on your mind—rushing out to order two eggs with bacon at your local diner!

Jason Burnham
Tënk editorial manager