For some inexplicable reason, Denys Arcand is a filmmaker whose name is not widely known, despite his work being exceptionally strong. He has a small group of devoted followers but has mainly remained quite under the radar outside of his native Canada, which seems like quite an unfortunate turn of events, especially considering he is one of the most exciting and captivating voices in contemporary Québécois cinema, which has taken shape precisely because directors like him have been allowed to do exceptionally strong work, bringing their visions to life in a way that is always quite compelling. Many consider his masterful satire The Decline of the American Empire to be his masterpiece, at least in how it is the convergence of all the ideas that have made him such an extraordinarily compelling filmmaker – and nearly two decades later, he returned to this story in the form of The Barbarian Invasions (French: Les Invasions barbares), which is perhaps his most acclaimed film to date, and the one that established him as perhaps the quintessential satirist in modern Canadian cinema, someone who views the world in a radically different way to the rest of his contemporaries, and who endeavours to bring his vision to life in the form of this spirited, complex examination of the human condition, as filtered through the eyes of perhaps the most adorable curmudgeon in recent memory as he navigates his final few days before succumbing to a terminal illness, choosing to spend whatever time he has left making amends with the people who mattered the most to him. Hilariously funny despite the challenging subject matter, and consistently quite endearing, The Barbarian Invasions is an immensely captivating achievement and all the proof we need of Arcand’s impeccable and undeniable artistic merit.

Arcand is not a filmmaker who ever leaves us to guess what his intentions are, as each one of his films is quite direct in what they are aiming to achieve, even if they may deviate into unexpected territory on occasion. The Barbarian Invasions is very directly related to his overall fascination with contemporary life – we can go back to the very beginning of his career and see the director telling stories that are intrinsically connected to the world that surrounded him, particularly the more intimate details of everyday culture, and how we tend to respond to the various challenges that are usually thrown in our direction. He was inspired to make this film after the 9/11 attacks – not necessarily the event itself, but rather the academic aftermath, where intellectuals and public philosophers fell over themselves in the rush to proclaim these attacks as being indicative of something much deeper, which has to do with the collective cultural psychology and our tendency towards always looking for deeper meaning in even the most harrowing of scenarios. The Barbarian Invasions is titled after what a particularly thorny commentator indicated was going to be one of the aftershocks of these events, namely that we would see the United States overrun by supposed barbarians. Naturally, there is a lot more nuance to this conversation, and Arcand is not one to build a film around racist or xenophobic rhetoric but rather intends to construct a film that provokes and questions reality in an unforgettable and deeply interesting way, which is precisely the reason why this film, in particular, is such a remarkable philosophical odyssey that looks deeply at the state of modern life, tenderly satirizing it with a profound level of consistency.

One of the great deceptions of modern cinema is that, for the past twenty years, we have been fooled into believing that The Barbarian Invasions is a comedy. It’s not entirely inaccurate, since this is a genuinely very funny film and one that has a very distinct perspective when it comes to humour. However, it conceals a very simple fact: this is one of the most profoundly devastating films of the past few decades, which everyone involved, both in its creation and promotion, has cleverly hidden. Venturing into this film, you are led to believe that it is a sharp, witty satire with a caustic sense of humour and a lot of scathing commentaries, and this is certainly true – although only for the first two acts because by the time we get to the final third of the film, we find that Arcand changes course and shifts his focus away from an examination of the sordid nature of everyday life and the decline of global culture, and instead surrenders to the true nature of the film, which is namely a story about a father and his son seeking to make amends in his final days. It takes a lot of skill to tell a story that is simultaneously this funny and heartbreaking, but we find that the most impactful moments are those in which the director allows the underlying themes to emerge, which it does with extraordinary authenticity. The emotions in this film are kept extremely genuine, which is why the final moments strike such an immense blow, since not only did we not expect to be moved to such an extent, but it never comes across as overwrought or unnecessarily sentimental, instead being direct about its ideas, which it develops with such incredible complexity, we don’t even realize that the film has been heading in this direction until we reach its terminal destination, from which we are given the chance to see the true meaning of this story.

While it may not be a direct sequel in the sense that you needed to have watched the earlier film to appreciate The Barbarian Invasions (since it is perfectly capable of standing on its own, and the director does well in terms of filling in the gaps for those who went into this film without context), there are a few elements that are carried over, and perhaps the most important is the performance given by Rémy Girard, who takes on the part of an intelligent but controversial academic who has a very peculiar worldview, which often clashes with the opinions of those around him. It’s a very simple concept, but the film essentially depends on our ability to form a meaningful connection with this character, who is very rarely anything like what we’d expect to find in terms of a compelling protagonist. Girard is exceptional in the role, and he runs the gamut of emotions in a way that would surprise even the most seasoned of viewers, this proving to be quite an extraordinary performance despite its supposed simplicity. He is joined by a bevvy of other actors returning to roles they first portrayed in The Decline of the American Empire, but as consistently great as they may be, it’s the newcomers that prove to be the most effective scene-partners for Girard, with Stéphane Rousseau and Marie-Josée Croze being just as strong, the former in particular bringing to life a character that is just as unlikable as his on-screen partner, but to whom we cannot resist developing a strong and profound fascination. There is a moment between Girard and Rousseau towards the end that is one of the most hauntingly beautiful I have seen in quite some time, and it is a brief scene that would not have registered as even partially as effective had it not been performed by two genuinely gifted actors united to bring such a simple idea to the screen. Every actor in this film understands the importance of a single moment, and they all deliver astonishing and layered performances that are extremely detailed and always deeply moving.

The only reason a film like The Barbarian Invasions has not been ratified as a masterpiece of arthouse cinema is that it is not easy to identify the target audience – it may seem like it is aiming to appeal to academics, both legitimate and those inclined towards intellectual posturing, but it sometimes comes across as having a sincere disdain for the kinds of people who spend their lives trying to assert their superiority based on something as arbitrary as the level of education. However, it is also slightly too abstract to be an easily accessible comedy, especially since it tends to steer our attention towards the more absurd aspects of everyday life, which the director curates into a blisteringly funny satire. The reality is that this film doesn’t have much of a target in mind – it often plays like a series of moments in the director’s attempts to understand the world he inhabits, and the audience just functions as observers, glancing into his various existential ponderings, which manifest as this strange but captivating examination of the human condition, as seen by someone who has seemingly been given the chance to lose his faith in humanity, but realizes that this is all he has left, which makes him grasp it even more. It’s a challenging and unsettling work with bold ideas and an exceptional sense of humour, and as an introduction to Arcand (as I assume it will be for the majority of viewers), it introduces his style in a memorable and captivating way. It may be challenging, but we are constantly reminded throughout The Barbarian Invasions that there is always merit in having our beliefs pushed around and reconfigured, since only through having our earnest understanding of the world challenged do we come to find the answers to many of life’s more unconventional questions.