Mile End Kicks Follows a Canadian Music Critic Finding Herself

There’s a reason Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill speaks to Grace Pine (Barbie Ferreira). It’s the same reason her pitch endears a publisher to cut her an advance and contract to publish a 33 1/3 book on the subject: the feminist rage; the honesty; the fact that the world was willing to fork over millions of dollars to listen as a woman bared her soul. There’s catharsis in it, inspiration. What’s stopping Grace from achieving that same success through authentic voice and impeccable taste as a burgeoning music critic in Toronto? The adrenaline rush answers: “Nothing!” The inevitable crash back to earth supplies a revision: herself.

That’s not to say the patriarchy doesn’t play its role via an apathetic boss (Jay Baruchel’s Jeff), pedantic colleagues, and self-important new wave of rock-n-rollers finding any excuse to run away the moment she mentions her book’s topic. Writer-director Chandler Levack isn’t letting them off the hook by putting Grace in her own way en route to a coming-of-age epiphany. She’s not letting her lead character off the hook, either. Because there’s an allure to the scenarios to which Grace falls prey. To live the hip lifestyle of a rock chick? To have men actually listen to her expertise and achieve success? But at what cost?

Mile End Kicks gives Grace a chance at her dream by packing a bag and moving to Montreal without a safety net. This city is the Canadian music hub. The literal pulse of everything fresh, underground, and worth discovering––the perfect backdrop to get into Morissette’s head and, by extension, her own to write about that album’s personal impact. What Grace doesn’t anticipate, however, is that going from her parents’ home and semi-circles of bearded men quibbling over irrelevant bands to “the scene” brings a steep learning curve. The distractions coming her way were made to derail the most dedicated artists amongst us.

It starts with an invitation. Grace’s summer flat host Madeleine (Juliette Gariépy) and her boyfriend Hugo (Robert Naylor) are both performing at a loft party that night. She’s doing DJ work between acts, and his band Bone Party is headlining. Grace rebuffs the invitation––her deadline is coming insanely quick and she “doesn’t, like, do drugs”––but the combination of procrastination and FOMO get the better of her, even if she dreads discovering the music is too terrible to lie to their faces. She never would have guessed they’d actually be good, whatever their penchant for rejecting obvious influences to evoke aloofness.

Well, it works. At least in the case of lead singer Chevy (Stanley Simons). He’s a tractor beam of sex appeal that Grace cannot resist, despite Madeleine telling her he’s the worst person in all of Montreal. She’s ready to cross off #4 on her summer to-do list (have sex for real) the moment he starts singing. She’s not necessarily averse to doing it with lead guitarist Archie (Devon Bostick) either. She’s attracted to his honesty and humor––not quite the magnet Chevy is, but he’ll do in a pinch and make a loyal friend. That leaves their bassist Jesse (I Like Movies star Isaiah Lehtinen) schlepping everything back to the van himself.

Herein lies the trouble: is Bone Party really that good, or is Grace’s affinity for two of its members clouding her usually impeccable taste? Unfortunately, her reality soon proves that the answer is moot––she’s going to use the chance that they’re legit to get closer to Chevy and the prospect of hooking up while also sabotaging her own ambition in the process. We know it’s a horrible idea––this guy is an insanely opportunistic con man who only thinks about himself––but we’re beginning to wonder if Grace isn’t a bit of that, too. After all, she’s exploiting Madeleine’s kindness and Archie’s interest to get in Chevy’s pants.

The writing all but stops as Grace falls into the same trap she fell with Jeff, insofar as giving her talent away for free to men who don’t deserve it. She became his workhorse for a year, taking on every assignment he sent regardless of its proximity to music, and still hasn’t processed her invoice (not to mention other heinous behavior yet to be revealed). Now she’s volunteering to become Bone Party’s de facto publicist by pitching interviews to reputable magazines, authoring their marketing materials, and even hanging posters. Grace is here to unlock her inner badass but is propping up another ungrateful man.

It’s a very well-scripted progression: Levack finds a way to authentically let the character think she’s acting under her own volition while ensuring the audience clearly sees Chevy’s manipulations. (The sex scenes are so awkward as Chevy’s narcissism distracts him mid-act that we cannot stop laughing, despite second-hand mortification.) Grace is so focused on what she thinks she should be that she ultimately loses who she is to conform to what the world (which she’s meant to be fighting) desires from her. It’s a devastating, relatable performance by Ferreira that’s desperate for a moment of clarity that could never come too late.

Mile End Kicks premiered at TIFF.