Maple Syrup Massacre is a new monthly series where Bloody Disgusting dissects the themes, conventions and contributions of new and classic Canadian horror films. Spoilers follow…
As a nation, Canada is a challenging concept. Historically we have a bit of a sad legacy as people who are uncertain about who or what the country is (and by extension, ourselves). Canada’s proximity to the US often means that Canadians define ourselves in opposition to our neighbours below: we don’t know exactly what it means to be Canadian, but we do know that we aren’t American.
The uncertainty about who or what we are feeds into our film characters’ inferiority complexes. This is particularly applicable when it comes to male characters, who tend to fall into one of the three categories: coward, bully, or clown. These characterizations were identified in an article by Robert Fothergill called “Coward, Bully or Clown: the Dream-life of a Younger Brother” in the 1973 seminal Canadian film book, Take One and despite the nearly 50 year gap, the three categories remain strangely apt, even for modern film readings.
Another defining criteria of Canadian film is our relationship to nature. Contrary to misguided perceptions, most of Canada is not made of ice and snow and we don’t share our backyards with wolves, moose or polar bears. There is, however, a tension around our proximity to the north (the vast majority of Canadians – 90% – live within 100 miles of the US border). As a result, there is an undeniable sense that Mother Nature is all consuming and that civilization rests right on the edge of an encroaching wilderness.
For the first entry in this series, I wanted to explore a film that embodies these ideas. While it is tempting to go with a popular text, ultimately I opted to highlight a slightly lesser known film: Adam MacDonald’s 2014 debut feature, Backcountry.
In the last few years, MacDonald has increasingly become a household name. His sophomore feature, Pyewacket, picked up a lot of attention after a successful festival run and a release by IFC Midnight in 2017. He’s gained even more prominence since Slasher season three dropped on Netflix back in late March.
Released in 2014, Backcountry is a survival horror about a couple – Alex (Jeff Roop) and Jenn (Missy Peregrym) – who get lost in the woods and are subsequently stalked by a bear. The film has a relatively straightforward premise, but baked into its elegantly streamlined narrative is a physically and emotionally compelling drama about a woman who must overcome not just her shitty relationship, but also the threat of nature, embodied in the form of a 600-pound black bear.
Clearly, Backcountry is one of the single most Canadian films ever.
The first clue is the setting of the film. There are countless horror films set in the woods, but the film’s presentation of the woods as both a puzzle that city dwellers are unable to navigate and the characters’ idealization of the setting as “romantic” are both very Canadian. Alex intends to use the trip to propose to Jenn, a move that requires openly disregarding the literal dangers of the environment in order to reframe it as a picture-perfect romantic ideal.
Alex does this because he is emblematic of the “coward”, or a modern interpretation that casts him as a poser who overcompensates for his deficiencies with dangerous confidence. Early in the film, Alex berates Jenn for bringing along bear repellant and a road flare, claiming that she has needlessly overpacked and repeatedly reinforcing his expertise as a hiker and camper. This air of superiority is repeatedly undercut in MacDonald’s script: Alex’s refusal to take a map at the Visitor Center eventually results in the pair getting lost, and he is almost immediately injured when their canoe flips on his foot.
Worst still, Alex refuses to acknowledge his limitations when his masculinity is threatened by Brad (Eric Balfour), a more experienced hiker who embodies the characteristics of the “Bully”. Like a fool who is eager to prove himself needlessly, Alex takes the bait when Brad goads him into taking Jenn to a waterfall off the beaten path.
Eventually, it is revealed that Alex’s hubris (and his small-dicked inferiority complex) has put them in serious danger. He and Jenn become lost and, shortly thereafter, most of their food is eaten or destroyed by a bear, who begins stalking them due to Alex’s bleeding foot.
Alex’s death in a bear attack, besides being the film’s greatest and most terrifying set piece, feels both inevitable and extremely gratifying. The character’s unwillingness to respect the dangers of his setting, as well as his belief that he is more powerful than Mother Nature, repeatedly puts both him and Jenn in danger. Ultimately it dooms him.
In comparison, Jenn’s resilience and her awareness that she has limited knowledge of the wild (evidenced by her foresight to pack both bear spray and a flare) enables her to not only survive the predicament that Alex puts her in, but to ultimately persevere and find her way back to civilization.
Aside from being a great survival horror film, Backcountry is also a loose retelling of true events that occurred in 2005 when 30-year-old Mark Jordan attempted to save his wife Jacqueline Perry from a bear when they were camping in a provincial park in Northern Ontario. In real life, Perry was fatally wounded, but Mark survived, which means that MacDonald consciously made the decision to gender flip the outcome. It is unclear if the writer/director was aware that by doing so – and making Alex a characteristic Canadian “coward” – his film was adhering to a long historical tradition.
Backcountry is a great example of several Canadian film conventions, namely our propensity for weak male characters and the tenuous relationship we share with wilderness. In the next installment of Maple Syrup Massacre, we’ll examine how these elements intersect with the notion of the garrison, or “fort mentality”, with a deep dive into Ginger Snaps Back: The Beginning.