Family Feud

When going to see a Werner Herzog-directed, David Lynch-produced, Michael Shannon-starring cop drama, you can predict an intelligent, oddball experience. The Herzog and Lynch partnership marks a strange marriage between two of the most surreal living film presences. That, and star Michael Shannon’s mind-blowing performance in Revolutionary Road, is what drew me to the gala premiere of My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done at the Toronto International Film Festival. I knew I would be set up for a very Herzogian/Lynchian evening after standing in line for two hours quietly admiring line-mate and Canadian rapper Buck 65, and being sandwiched in the middle of two feuding parties of raging line-budders.

My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done is based on the true story of a man who decides to follow his inner voice and kill his mother, Greek tragedy style. Don’t worry — you find that out in the first five minutes. During the post-screening question and answer session, director Werner Herzog said that he wanted it to be clear from the start who was murdered and who the murderer was so that every point from then on would come as a surprise.

Several reviews summarize the plot as a harrowing police detective trying to piece together a murder mystery. Willem Dafoe as Detective Hank Havenhurst, although the perfect good cop, is far from the leading man (and far from the Elgin Theatre. None of the actors made an appearance on the red carpet or for the Q&A). Michael Shannon is the stand-out. He plays murderer Brad McCullum in a simple, haunting way (in one scene, he compliments his neighbour’s coffee, and creates one of the scariest moments of the film).

Herzog closed the show with a sharp and witty Q&A, shutting down audience claims that the acting was stilted (he called it stylized) and the narrative was incoherent (he called it mysterious), and coyly ignoring the audience’s appalled reaction when one crowd member addressed him as Mr. Herzberg.

In a world where actors don’t walk the red carpet of their own premieres, Canadian indie rappers have to wait in line for two hours with a common journalist, and film fans don’t know the name of the director in front of them, life can really be as bizarre as the movies. — Jessica Ford