By Ellie Trinkle
The “man vs. nature” trope is not new to films—take “Into the Wild” or “Jaws,” for example—but Philippe Lesage’s 2024 film “Who by Fire” completely reimagines the concept. The film’s depiction of how nature can intertwine with, reflect, and perpetrate men’s experiences by turning the verdant Canadian wilderness into an unsettling place upholds and dismantles male fragility.
Lesage is a Canadian filmmaker who began his career in documentaries before moving into narrative film with 2014’s “Copenhague: A Love Story.” I met Lesage when he visited Middlebury College for a Q&A after a screening of “Who by Fire.” He jokingly mentioned he had grown up wanting to be a musician but realized he was “not good enough” and eventually settled on filmmaking. He realized that the beauty behind filmmaking is in the ability to create one’s distinct style, and “Who by Fire” is no exception to that unique style.
The film, written and directed by Lesage, is a Canadian-French drama that follows aspiring filmmaker Jeff as he joins his friend Max’s family vacation to the Canadian wilderness. Max’s father, screenplay writer Albert, brings them to former colleague, old friend, and director Blake’s remote cabin. As Albert and Blake’s reunion slowly falls apart, the environment around them begins to retaliate.
Lesage emphasizes the long shot to draw out conflict. He prefers to let the audience interpret what is presented on screen rather than facilitate it himself through a more traditional shot-reverse-shot style.
In “Who by Fire,” there are many memorable long shots, but those at the dinner table are particularly memorable. Lesage cited these scenes as his favorite in the film, claiming there were a lot of elements that had to go right to make them work. The first occurs during one of the early nights at the cabin; Blake and Albert begin to reminisce about their work together, which turns into a heated argument where both men accuse one another of betrayal. While they make amends at the end of the meal, it is clear that the tension between them will continue to linger. During a later dinner scene, Albert accuses the table of replacing his Italian wine after noticing it tastes differently. Everyone at the dinner table winces, but the shot continues to drag out, completely immersing the audience in the awkwardness and tension.
These dinner scenes provide a showcase for Lesage to implement the technique of showing rather than telling. Most of the film is from the point of view of Jeff, who takes on the role of a bystander. Through this, he serves as both a spectator and a participant in male fragility.
Jeff is initially excited to go on the trip and meet Blake and is even gifted a screenplay from him. For Jeff, befriending Blake means possibly getting a leg up in the film industry. However, as Jeff slowly learns, the cabin might house and uphold male fragility, but the outside world will dismantle it.
During an attempt to pursue long-time crush Aliocha, Jeff slaps her when she rejects him, prompting him to run into the woods. Too embarrassed and unable to reconcile with the events that transpired, he sleeps on a rock. He is awoken by the sounds of a nearby animal howling, which terrifies him. The next day, he is saved by Blake and realizes he has not made it far from the cabin. Here, Jeff’s male fragility is shattered when nature reminds him that far more terrifying things are at play.
In another moment, Jeff discovers Blake has been taking advantage of Aliocha. Completely enraged, he attempts to turn Albert against Blake by telling him that it was Blake who switched the wine at dinner. While this is true, Jeff decides to tell Albert after it happens, suggesting he only reveals this to Albert for his own personal gain.
Lesage also mentioned that he enjoys using nature to make things more real. “Who by Fire” does just this, as nature is used to parallel the events occurring in the cabin. Towards the end of the film, Blake brings two new friends to the cabin, and the entire group embarks on a canoeing adventure. After a collision with rapids, a long shot closes the film to reinforce the haunting concept that nature will always fight back. Not only is nature making the scene more “real,” it also serves as its own character.
The film’s 155-minute runtime is filled with many eye-catching and significant moments. In one scene, the cabin guests dance to The B52’s “Rock Lobster” in a long shot, swaying and forming a conga line. However, at times, these long shots felt little more than an exercise. I appreciated hearing why Lesage favors this kind of shot, but sometimes, there were moments where the film lagged because of them.
I also appreciated how the film depicted fragile masculinity, but I couldn’t help but wonder why the women were never developed as characters. Aliocha has some strong narrative moments towards the very end of the film, but other than that, none of the women characters are given much thought. Perhaps Lesage intentionally chose this to emphasize how the men are so caught up with one another that they fail to consider the women around them. Either way, this part of the film challenged my thinking.
The film shares its name with Leonard Cohen’s 1974 song, “Who by Fire,” which details the uncertainties of how we will die. This uncertainty is connected to the film because a similar uncertainty is seen in all of the male characters; are they immortalizing themselves through their pursuit of art, or are their downfalls inevitable because they are fragile and retaliate against one another? Questions such as these make the film all the more compelling.
“Who by Fire” is a captivating commentary on how male fragility transforms when placed in the hands of nature. All the characters are disillusioned by their idyllic surroundings, causing them to destroy their relationships and, ultimately, themselves. Much like the song from which it gets its title, the film becomes a question of autonomy: “Who for his greed, who for his hunger, and who shall I say is calling?” Cohen sings. Indeed, this inherent hunger and greed upholds the male characters’ fragility that nature so ruthlessly destroys.
Ellie Trinkle is a film and creative writing major attending Middlebury College.
