Sixty-year-old Johnny Libertella has spent his entire life in the Rosemont–La-Petite-Patrie neighbourhood. Like his parents before him, he lives just above his shop on Plaza St-Hubert. An introvert by nature, he has chosen to devote himself to his business. For over three decades, he has religiously manned the counter of his footwear shop that specializes in cowboy boots, only straying away from the Plaza to visit his daughter every Sunday.
| Directors | Bruno Dramatik, Bruno Dramatik |
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Johnny Libertella : One Million Smiles seems, at first, like a simple portrait of a cowboy-like shoe salesman in the middle of Montreal’s Plaza Saint-Hubert. Nothing more.
The film opens in a dark tunnel, an invitation to walk through it and take your seat in an imagined theatre, just before the lights come up. And there he is: Johnny, in his most polished role—king and servant of a kingdom of boots-soldiers, standing straight at attention, aisle after aisle. Ready to shoe anyone who crosses the threshold, Johnny offers western dreams, his smile, and the rare currency of attention. In his kingdom, everything has its place, every gesture its purpose.
Johnny recalls Agilulf, the nonexistent knight in Italo Calvino’s work: a perfect soldier who responds to the chaos of the world with precision and devotion. But if Agilulf must set out in search of his identity, Johnny does not need to leave his store-kingdom, which contains everything. Photographs of the past, love notes from employees engraved on the wall, a glass of wine in tribute to his father. And yet.
The camera pulls away for a moment: Johnny looks outside, through the window, at the tired lights of yet another Christmas on the street. Palace or fortress?
Agilulf eventually dissolves—his existence without grounding in reality cannot hold. Johnny, however, remains. Tomorrow, he will step back onto his stage. Content.
Arianna Bardesono
Filmmaker and graduate of L'inis

Johnny Libertella : One Million Smiles seems, at first, like a simple portrait of a cowboy-like shoe salesman in the middle of Montreal’s Plaza Saint-Hubert. Nothing more.
The film opens in a dark tunnel, an invitation to walk through it and take your seat in an imagined theatre, just before the lights come up. And there he is: Johnny, in his most polished role—king and servant of a kingdom of boots-soldiers, standing straight at attention, aisle after aisle. Ready to shoe anyone who crosses the threshold, Johnny offers western dreams, his smile, and the rare currency of attention. In his kingdom, everything has its place, every gesture its purpose.
Johnny recalls Agilulf, the nonexistent knight in Italo Calvino’s work: a perfect soldier who responds to the chaos of the world with precision and devotion. But if Agilulf must set out in search of his identity, Johnny does not need to leave his store-kingdom, which contains everything. Photographs of the past, love notes from employees engraved on the wall, a glass of wine in tribute to his father. And yet.
The camera pulls away for a moment: Johnny looks outside, through the window, at the tired lights of yet another Christmas on the street. Palace or fortress?
Agilulf eventually dissolves—his existence without grounding in reality cannot hold. Johnny, however, remains. Tomorrow, he will step back onto his stage. Content.
Arianna Bardesono
Filmmaker and graduate of L'inis
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