Canadian humour has always held the promise of a more sophisticated understanding of life and irony than its American counterpart. It’s true, at least, in Weirdsville, a dry and distinct comedy with a Coen brothers-esque plot, and a Buñuellian sense of the ludicrous.
Junkies Royce and Dexter (Wes Bentley and Scott Speedman), who live in what appears to be the coldest part of Canada, are trying to dispose of their friend’s body after an overdose. They also have to pay back their drug dealer for a stash that they were supposed to sell but ended up using instead – hence the OD. Naturally they plan a burglary to remedy the situation and naturally it all goes wrong. At some point, Satanists and medieval dwarves get involved – how and why are irrelevant.
Weirdsville has a low-budget charm mixed with high-end performances. Bentley and Speedman are the best sort of actors for this sort of film – unpretentious and selfless. Alongside Taryn Manning as their junkie mate, they make a beautifully absurd triumvirate. Dysfunctional and directionless, their drug use is never belittled or trivialised for comic effect, and the harsh realities of being an addict, the good and the bad, give a needed dose of reality that stops Weirdsville from being just another forgettable crime caper.
And it really is much more that that. The opening scene sees a mouse struggling futilely to escape a toilet bowl, and there’s no better metaphor for what Weirdsville is ultimately all about. As Royce and Dexter evade curling-loving debt collectors, use garden gnomes for breaking and entering, and discuss new business ideas like ‘Cigatea’ (tea with tobacco in it) their pervasive world-weariness is the ever-present but unseen antagonist of the story.
For the characters of Weirdsville, life is a Sisyphean trial, but if the film has a message, it’s that it doesn’t really matter: if you’ve got friends and a bong, that’s all you need.
