As the old saying goes, “all’s fair in love and war” – however, we can easily conflate the two, since they’re both amongst the most difficult ideas to understand at a conceptual level, and unless someone has experienced either of them, logically explaining their function is a fool’s errand. This serves as the foundation of Le révolutionnaire (“The Revolutionary”), the ambitious debut feature film by Candian writer and director Jean Pierre Lefebvre, who weaves a story that looks at both love and war, through the lens of a series of satirical jabs at world politics and diplomacy, particularly the rise of guerilla warfare and constant revolution that took place across Latin America during the Cold War, and how the smallest factions often proved themselves to be the most violent when it came to overthrowing seemingly oppressive regimes. Whatever it was that served as the impetus for the director to put these ideas into practice is unknown, other than he intended to look into the experience of revolutionary warfare through his own quaint perspective, but the final result is a brilliant, subversive experiment, and a film that strives to do something extremely different, and in the process inadvertently lays a foundation for a few decades of independent filmmaking, particularly on the subject of bringing more unconventional stories to the screen. Le révolutionnaire resides in relative obscurity, despite the director growing into quite a formidable figure – but like any great hidden gem, the discovery of it stands to be just as exciting as the process of working through it, so there has never been a better time to take a look at this film and see exactly how Lefebvre pulled together one of the most unexpectedly brilliant satires to come out of the 1960s.

As it stands, Lefebvre is often considered the most notable voice in early Canadian independent cinema, ascending to the ranks of being the person that helped define it and introduce this movement, which was already being recognized as a legitimate form of filmmaking throughout the industry of their southern neighbours. There is a reason why he is affectionately known as the Godfather of Candian Independent Cinema, because he embodied everything that defines an early grassroots film movement, using a very small budget, working with non-professional actors (most of them likely friends and colleagues that the director managed to coerce into spending a weekend with him, working on this peculiar film), and a story that doesn’t always seem to make much sense in theory, but comes into its own through putting it into practice. All the director needed to make this film was an isolated farmhouse somewhere in the snow-covered landscapes of his native Canada, a few collaborators that would work as actors, interpreting his strange plot, and a camera to capture all the ensuing madness. Whether there was a clear script involved, or if the entire production was built on a blend of improvisation and youthful mischief remains to be seen. It all converges into an oddly captivating satire that never takes itself too seriously, while still succeeding in making a mockery of some very grave issues (although it is all presented through subtext – without knowing the particular socio-cultural milieu Le révolutionnaire was satirizing, the full scope of the film may be too obscure), which is only further reason to revisit and dissect the various interesting nuances that serve as the foundation for this film.

The difference between experimental cinema, and a dozen young people fooling around is intention. Lefebvre had a very peculiar way of realizing some of these ideas, mainly through stark contrast. The film establishes itself as a military satire quite early on – in theory (based on the premise), this is a hard-hitting, documentary-style realist drama about a group of revolutionaries training to overthrow an oppressive system, as was a common practice during this era of political unrest (and which still persists in various forms today). It’s in the execution that we see the different springing up – instead of the jungles of Latin America, the action all takes place in and around an isolated farmhouse somewhere in rural Canada. Instead of being athletic, passionate soldiers, the characters are meek, urbane intellectuals that have clearly done very little physical exercise in their lives, and their training is even more peculiar, since their commandant is far from the effective leader we’d expect him to be. It all contributes to the inherent sense of absurdity that lingers over Le révolutionnaire, with the director’s very peculiar style standing in stark contrast with the more serious implications of this odd mockery of current affairs. Like any great satirist, Lefebvre makes sure to set a firm foundation, knowing that he could deviate from logic in the most wildly inventive ways, as long as there is a firm conceptual basis to his vision – and throughout Le révolutionnaire, we see exactly how one can easily create something that not only entertains, but informs, all through the lens of a very dark comedy,

This all makes for a rivetting satire, since every scene over its strangely paltry running time of only 73 minutes adds depth to the commentary Lefebvre and his collaborators are ensuring to focus on, while still showcasing the inner nuances of a revolution, only from a distinctly different point of view, where the usual setting and narrative beats are replaced by something far more off-beat and unsettling, which makes for a very effective deconstruction of the mentalities of war, and the men (as well as one woman, as this film makes sure to demonstrate) that perpetuate it. It’s an unconventional look at combat, showing the roots of a radical movement, but through the clearly absurdist lens of a middle-class perspective, where the soldiers are idiotic hedonists who are revolutionary enough until someone appears that distracts them from their purpose. It’s wildly funny, but has the caustic humour that doesn’t easily lend itself to much laughter in the traditional sense. Instead, it’s an absurdist satire, the kind of bleak and deadpan comedy that we can’t really separate from its conceptual roots. Everything is executed with such stonefaced seriousness, even the most active viewer may begin to question whether this is a comedy, or some form of thinly-veiled propaganda, a rousing call to arms for the Canadian population to overthrow their government in the same way as some of the countries to the south of their borders. It makes for an oddly immersive experience, since Lefebvre never breaks the veneer of seriousness – everyone is clearly in on the joke, except the viewer, who may have very different understandings of the material, which only makes this an even more interesting work of mid-century satire, since there isn’t a single interpretation that functions as more thorough than the other.

Towards the end of the film, one of the principal characters simply states “don’t try to understand, it’s useless”. This is a perfect encapsulation of everything surrounding Le révolutionnaire and its intentions, or whatever scraps of it we can find. This is a fascinating account of the dominant mentalities surrounding the Cold War, where anyone with even the slightest knowledge of the history of the era will know that insurgent groups in the countries most impacted by the tensions started to spring up, taking matters into their own hands, as they believed their governments were incapable of doing so. This isn’t a unique approach to storytelling, and such premises are a dime a dozen – where this film differs is in both theory and execution, it is immediately unique. Setting such a story in the rural, tranquil regions of Canada not only adds to the peculiar nature of the narrative, but situates it in an off-kilter version of the world, where logic doesn’t exist, and the idea of a dozen or so Canadian intellectuals venturing into the wilderness to train for an upcoming coup d’etat is hilarious and irreverent, and executed with such remarkable precision by a director who understood how inherently strange such a premise is. None of the irony is lost throughout this film, and Lefebvre makes some inspired choices in both the storytelling and the general method of realizing his vision. It’s not the easiest film to comprehend, and some of it is very much inspired by a more loosely structured approach – but it all comes together beautifully, since there’s a sense of darkly comical sardonicism that is omnipotent throughout the film, being as entertaining as it is unsettling, which only further proves what a hidden gem Le révolutionnaire is, and how it is a vital piece of early Canadian independent filmmaking, and should be celebrated as such.