"You Can Live Forever" - Tribeca Film Fest Review
Teenage Jaime (Anwen O’Driscoll) relocates to a small town near Quebec City to live with her aunt (Liane Balaban) and uncle (Antoine Yared) because of “family stuff” in You Can Live Forever. The residents of the insular town, as well as her aunt and uncle, are devout Jehovah’s Witnesses. Jaime is gay and immediately develops a crush on Marike (June Laporte), who she meets in the Witness meetings. As the two get to know each other, the connection between them alters their relationships with religion and with each other.
Marike and Jaime are polar opposites. Jaime is all ripped jeans, oversized t-shirts, and jean jackets. Marike wears modest floral dresses, has proper manners, and is dedicated to her religion. It’s perhaps because of these differences that they’re drawn together. Marike and Jaime see what’s beneath the surface, and it’s the first time in their lives that they have someone who wants to get to know them in a deeper sense. They have found a one-in-a-million human connection that’s impossible to forget.
You Can Live Forever is a study of the way a person’s presence can grow in your life. They’re a drizzle at first, then a downpour, and finally they’re everywhere, obscuring your vision and impossible to ignore. These feelings are a challenge for adults, and even more overwhelming for teenagers. In the small town, Jaime and Marike create an even smaller world for themselves. They spend every possible second together, lost in the nearly obsessive world of youthful emotions.
The joy in You Can Live Forever comes from the organic growth of the relationship between Marike and Jaime. They find it simple to understand, respect, and care for each other, a kindness that’s not afforded to them by most in the community. Hasani Freeman’s Nate is the sole exception, and his performance will likely go underappreciated. Nate was Jaime’s first friend at school and is the only person in town she can confide in. He’s kind and doesn’t judge her. The two have a sweet friendship that’s important to Jaime for more reasons than she probably realizes. Unfortunately, as the movie (understandably) shifts the bulk of its focus to Marike’s and Jaime’s relationships with the Jehovah’s Witness community, Nate takes a backseat.
You Can Live Forever might be written off as one of the many examples of queer films that doesn’t have a happy ending. On a purely surface level, that would be correct, but to reduce You Can Live Forever to that simplistic understanding would eliminate this meaningful representation of growing up queer in a religious community. Especially one so insular and claustrophobic as the town that’s portrayed here. The ending of You Can Live Forever isn’t heartbreaking because the characters break up. It’s because Jaime and Marike become aware of the potential they’ve lost out on because of the rejection from the community that was supposed to raise and protect them.
You Can Live Forever is the self-assured feature debut of Montreal writers and directors Mark Slutsky and Sarah Watts.
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