Claude Joli-Coeur’s big plans for a better board

Movies: Interview with Claude Joli-Coeur

National Film Board Chair reaffirms original vision of ‘unity through diversity’ with new gender parity policy but that’s just the beginning of some bold moves, including a new brick and mortar headquarters in Montreal

By Katherine Monk

VANCOUVER –  “If the National Film Board were a person, how would you describe their identity?”

Claude Joli-Coeur reflects for a second with a serious look hazing over his gentle features. Then, in an instant, a gleeful burst: “Leonard Cohen!”

After serving at the board for 12 years, currently as Government Film Commissioner and Chairperson for the NFB, Joli-Coeur has spent a few all-nighters in the company of his current passion. He has the type of insight that only comes from intimacy.

“The personality. The sparks. The surprise. The iconic… He grew up in Montreal and achieved world renown. He was open to different questions of identity…. Everything, eh?”

For Joli-Coeur, a well-tailored 60 who still holds the trace of a lawyer’s body language in his open confidence and the way he gently, but firmly, touches his fingertips to the table, identity and openness are obsessions.

Since formally taking over the reins as Commissioner two years ago — after a brief stint as Interim Chair in 2006-2007 — the former film industry deal-maker and one-time member of Quebec legal firms Langlois Drouin and Lafleur Brown has been writing his own chapter in board history.

In 2014, he announced the board’s move from its 50-year-old brick and mortar headquarters in the Norman McLaren building to downtown Montreal’s Quartier des spectacles. And on March 8, 2016, he promised gender parity on the production side: At least half of the board’s productions would be directed by women and at least half of all production spending would be earmarked for productions directed by women.

“Last time I checked, women still made up half the population. So we’re really just reflecting the reality of what’s out there,” he says.

“I come from a background of strong women. I was working with very strong women for most of my career. They influenced me. My first job in the legal profession was with a strong woman and since then, I have been working with other very strong women. It’s been key to my development,” says Joli-Coeur, smiling.

“Last time I checked, women still made up half the population. So we’re really just reflecting the reality of what’s out there,” he says.

“I am also married to a very strong woman, and I have three daughters who are strong, too. So me and my son are very much running around them… Ha. Ha. But we like it. I love to be around their creative energy. My mother did fine arts and studied in commercial art but never got a chance to work as an artist. That was the world back then.”

Joli-Coeur wants to help artists. He says he wants to help. Period.

“I come from a family of public service. When I came to the board for public service, I had been in the AV sector for 20 years putting deals together, working in distribution and working for a big firm, a public traded company. I’d gained a lot of experience and wanted to get back to public service. At the time, Jacques Bensimon was the Commissioner, and I was excited to work with him and such an iconic institution – which I think he put back on the map.”

Born in May 1939 at the hands of John Grierson, the National Film Board of Canada was conceived, as Grierson himself said in 1970: “To bring Canada alive to itself and the rest of the world. It was there to declare the excellences of Canada to Canadians and to the rest of the world. It was there to invoke the strengths of Canadians, the imagination of Canadians in respect to creating their present and their future.”

In its 77 years since, the board lived up to that promise, but it hasn’t been easy. Every single one of the board’s 16 previous chairs saw problems.

After Grierson left the helm to pursue interests that pulled him into nothing less than the Gouzenko spy scandal, the board became a political beach ball, a toy to be batted back and forth, losing air with each awkward slap.

Former Macleans editor and enthusiastic film board detractor, Arthur Irwin, was appointed chair in 1950, not long after the RCMP recommended the dismissal of 36 employees for questionable loyalty to the state. Irwin wasn’t greeted with open arms, but he was eventually credited with “saving the board” in 1951 when he recognized Queen Elizabeth’s royal tour of Canada might make a good movie. Royal Journey was shot on 35mm color stock, opened in 17 first-run theatres in Canada, and recouped its $88,000 budget within days, returning a final profit of more than $150,000.

Following on the heels of Royal Journey came Neighbours, Norman McLaren’s landmark short about two men fighting over a flower on their shared property line. The film captured the Cold War Zeitgeist and went on to win the Palme D’Or at Cannes in addition to the Academy Award.

The board was suddenly beloved, until TV took hold, forcing the institution into an uncomfortable bed with the CBC and a perpetual battle for funding.

Still, every decade or two, there is talk of the board being dismantled or merged into some other branch of government. Some politicians just can’t sit with the idea of a taxpayer funded movie production company and see the board’s very existence as an example of gratuitous spending.

Past commissioners have had to survive slashed budgets and internal skirmishes, psychological warfare affiliations and the constant threat of complete annihilation.

But the board always manages to survive, perhaps because like Leonard Cohen, it achieved fame outside our own borders. It means something to our collective psyche to be able to walk into a government institution and see an Oscar in the lobby. They have enough power to make even beige walls feel glamorous.

“We have a budget of $65 million. That’s $2 per Canadian,” says Joli-Coeur. “That’s not expensive to have an institution like this. We tell stories that no one else is going to tell. And so that money comes with a lot of responsibility to keep that mandate alive. The minute we lose that, we put ourselves at risk.”

Joli-Coeur’s words echo those of his predecessors, who all affirmed the importance of nourishing unity through diversity.

“We have a budget of $65 million. That’s $2 per Canadian…That’s not expensive to have an institution like this. We tell stories that no one else is going to tell. And so that money comes with a lot of responsibility to keep that mandate alive. The minute we lose that, we put ourselves at risk.”

“You will be hearing more from me on the subject of diversity,” says Joli-Coeur, hinting at his next initiative. “Because I have been trained and educated as a lawyer, I have a way of seeing things through a different set of rules that goes back to the Charter of Rights. We have equality. It is guaranteed in the charter, yet there is still so much inequality in our society. So we have to create environments. I want to create a favorable set of circumstances,” he says.

“We’re just finalizing our diversity plan. It’s a little more complicated, but the more ground you cover, the more complicated it becomes.”

Fortunately, Joli-Coeur is comfortable with the complex and the paradoxical sides of the creative endeavor. He knows it takes money to make art, and that it takes business savvy to succeed.

“We’re just finalizing our diversity plan. It’s a little more complicated, but the more ground you cover, the more complicated it becomes.”

“Working in the private sector for so long makes you aware of the realities of the industry. But I also recognize the importance of the board in birthing Canadian culture and being a place where you can do things you can’t do anywhere else. Artists who work at the board bring their experience of the board back into their environment. The intellectual collateral flows back and forth. This has to remain.”
When Joli-Coeur really gets going, the blush of his board romance tints his cheeks pink. Terms like “national identity” and “cultural pride” bubble up from somewhere deep – which may be a bit surprising considering Joli-Coeur was once a proud separatist.

“I was born in 1956, so the Quiet Revolution had already happened. I was four years old, but like most French-Canadians who grew up in the ‘70s, I was – at one point – a separatist. Obviously, not anymore, but it was a positive movement for a time. It was a way to feel proud and strong after a period. It corrected a lot of things in Canadian society and gave us confidence to be strong Canadians. And that’s what I am now, a very strong, proud Canadian.”

Joli-Coeur believes the board is a fundamental piece of that Canadian identity and his job is to ensure it remains relevant, creating unique documentary and animation content that Canadians want to see and can actually access. Technology has made the access part easier, with a digital streaming platform and a new partnership with Vimeo, but the market and the money is on the decline.

“…Like most French-Canadians who grew up in the ‘70s, I was – at one point – a separatist. Obviously, not anymore, but it was a positive movement for a time. It was a way to feel proud and strong after a period. It corrected a lot of things in Canadian society and gave us confidence to be strong Canadians. And that’s what I am now, a very strong, proud Canadian.”

“Last year, our films were viewed more than 30 million times,” he says. “There is an audience for documentary. It’s a very popular genre. But it’s not what it used to be. It’s getting harder. You used to see several specialty services that used to run documentary one-offs, but they don’t anymore. The windows are limited and the pricing is limited. Globally, it’s a hard time. But we’re still the lucky ones,” he says.

“I was at the Oscars and met a lot of people from Disney Pixar. They were all jealous of the NFB. To have a hub of creation like ours is unique. We are small and agile and we can do things in different ways than other industry models.”

@katherinemonk

Spotlight on the Move:

NFB McLaren Building

The Norman McLaren building on Cote de Liesse in Montreal’s St. Laurent neighbourhood

Current Address – 3155 Cote de Liesse, part of St. Laurent’s McLaren district, which gets its name from the building itself.

Date opened: September 24, 1956

Cost of event: $2000 (no alcohol was served)

The board was originally headquartered in Ottawa, but the bureaucratic town wasn’t the best fit for the more bohemian employees, some of whom reportedly wore purple trousers. There was also a lingering dissatisfaction from the French-speaking filmmakers, who felt underrepresented in all ranks and functions of the board. Board chair Arthur Irwin lobbied for the move in step with the Massey Commission, which recommended more cross-cultural endeavors, but the news made waves immediately. Conservatives figured costs would skyrocket, the staff would be unionized and Montreal wasn’t the best-suited city for business. Also, given a large part of the board’s production was commissioned by various branches of government, the move seemed illogical. Yet, the government purchased the site for $900,000, and spent another $5 million for construction. In 1953, it was a big enough chunk of change to draw even more criticism from political opponents, and the Conservatives moved to block construction. One outspoken naysayer said Montreal was a bad choice because it was Russia’s number one target for an H-bomb attack.

And yet, on September 24, 1956, they had a very modest celebration for the new brick building. The party cost $2000. No alcohol was served, and Governor General Vincent Massey was a no-show, on account of the bad press.

NFB Quartier des spectacles

An artist’s rendering of the new National Film Board headquarters in Montreal’s Quartier des spectacles.

New Destination: Quartier des spectacles

Address: Bleury and de Maisonneuve

Expected Opening date: September 2017

“I am so happy about that move,” says NFB chair Claude Joli-Coeur. “I was working on it with [previous chair] Tom Perlmutter. I remember in 2008, I gave the presentation to move to Quartier des spectacles because of what it means it to be close to the public. Thousands can gather in front of that place and we’ll be there, and we have a screen that will be 13 floors high.”

Quartier des spectacles will also be home to other arts organizations. “All kinds of artists, dancers and live events will be held there. And unlike our other building, it’s on the Metro line. We are working with creators who bike and we were nowhere. Now, we are in the heart of the action: A world attraction. Not only that, we’ll be a shortcut underground in the winter.”

@katherinemonk

Top photo illustration by The Ex-Press’s Victor Bonderoff, featuring Claude Joli-Coeur and a young Leonard Cohen.
THE EX-PRESS, September 8, 2016

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