Having watched Pascal Plante’s feature film debut Fake Tattoos, I have been puzzled at just why it was so tense to bear, and why it made me feel so uncomfortable going on two days now. On the surface, this is a pretty straightforward boy-meets-girl tale. For anyone who’s ever seen Richard Linklater’s Before Sunrise, the superficial similarities will be apparent very quickly. And yet, this is neither a touching coming of age love story, nor is it a cathartic tragedy in the making. Instead, what we see is a stunningly honest depiction of two teenagers discovering each other in a very natural way. Slow, contemplative, and patient, the film bravely relies on very long takes of the two principal actors to relay most of the narrative, risking losing an audience hoping to see story progression done by the numbers. It’s a quiet and reverent undertaking, with no perfunctory “ah-ha” moments, revelations, solutions, or epiphanies. It’s like we’re flies on the wall watching two kids really fall for each other without any of the dramatic one-liners, or exaggerated proclamations of their emotions which drama classes seem so obsessed with. Dare I say it – the film almost straddles the fine line of being boring. Except I couldn’t take my eyes off it. And there’s a very good reason why.
Underneath the courtship between Theo and Mag, something unspoken is putting up a wall between their connection. For most of the film, we only know about it in one way – Theo is leaving town forever within two weeks. We don’t know why until near the very end – he never shares the all the details with Mag (or the audience for that matter) – but this expiration date on the relationship is always present. And it’s a terrible shame. These are two wonderful kids, with a spark of love between them, and plenty of joy to share. The whole time, we want them to be together, we want some miracle to change Theo’s circumstances – hell, we want to know why he’s fricking leaving! But that’s not what the film is about. Rather, it’s about young people having to adapt and deal with entering the adult world, be it due to the advent of an initial important romance, or the passing of some accidental tragedy.
It is this largely unexplored thing that’s happened to Theo in the past, something that was a dumb kid’s mistake but will haunt him forever that’s between them. And Plante doesn’t bother putting this element up in the forefront. What happened isn’t the point of the story. How it affects what should be a terrific blooming summer love is. The brilliant understated performances by leads Rose-Marie Perreault and Anthony Therren impregnate each exchange between them with an undercurrent of potential energy which the filmmakers purposefully never let escape out of the bottle. When we finally do find out what the roadblock in Theo’s life is, there is no release, no crying, no bright and shining moment where everything makes sense. Because Fake Tattoos refuses to be that fake. Theo isn’t really going to explain himself – what will Mag think of him? And it’s not like this is all deliberate behavior. It’s the perfectly understandable clumsy navigation of an immature mind processing trauma at the tail end of its formative years. Conversely, Mag is wise enough not to poke and prod and sacrifice herself for this new love. She’s fully aware there’s a whole life ahead of her and she can care about someone without needing to be a superwoman problem fixer as so many caricatures found in silly rom-coms might.
When their separation finally happens, there’s no dramatic music, no riding into the setting sun, no neatly wrapped up odds and ends. Everything we wanted to happen for the characters never happens. At least, not in the way audiences are often trained to expect. The epilogue of the film is the perfect coda to a never-ending symphony. There are no true endings to stories, just more growth to experience, more events that keep shaping us. And it all happens slowly, with a sort of spontaneous deliberation most people use in leading a cautious life. Days later, I realize, my emotions had nowhere to go after watching Fake Tattoos. They would not wash away as easily as the title suggests. The only thing that’s permanent in life is impermanence, and this film transmits this message perfectly.
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