THE STORY – An estranged Métis mother and daughter struggle to overcome their differences but their world comes crashing down when an alluring woman enters their lives.
THE CAST – Dana Solomon, Derica Lafrance, Mélanie Bray, Bertha Durocher, Maggie Maurice, Mary Burnouf, Tamara Podemski & Gail Maurice
THE TEAM – Gail Maurice (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 89 Minutes
From the opening moments of “Blood Lines,” there’s a quiet magic that settles over the screen. Beatrice (played with subtle depth by newcomer Dana Solomon) drives through her close-knit Métis community, receiving warm greetings from nearly everyone she passes. It’s a simple, immediate image, but one that speaks volumes about place, belonging, and the interconnectedness that defines so many Indigenous communities. Against a backdrop of nature’s beauty and soft, grounded cinematography, director Gail Maurice ushers us into a world where peace is tangible – but, as we quickly learn, not everyone carries it within them.
Beatrice works at a local gas station and moonlights as a reporter for the community paper. She has a tight circle: her kokums, her friends, and a strong sense of self, especially when it comes to her identity and sexuality. She speaks openly about her attraction to women with those she trusts, and there’s a warmth in these moments that feels real, lived-in. It’s this honesty that first draws us into her world, and which makes the story’s eventual unraveling so frustrating.
Trouble arrives quietly, in the form of Léonore (played by Maurice herself), Beatrice’s estranged mother. Her unannounced return to town immediately throws Beatrice into emotional lockdown. “You can’t stay here,” Beatrice tells her. The once-peaceful home is fractured again. Léonore is relegated to a shack in the backyard – a not-so-subtle metaphor for the emotional distance between them. The film does an excellent job building tension without overexplaining. For a long stretch, we don’t know exactly what happened between them, but the sadness in the score and the way they steal glances when the other isn’t looking say enough.
Soon after, Chani (Derica Lafrance), a newcomer from the city, arrives to work on a local horse ranch. Her presence is like a spark for Beatrice. We watch as Beatrice’s face lights up each time Chani enters a room – a clear, quiet crush forming. The film at first explores each woman separately: Chani, in search of the family she was taken from when she was a child, and Beatrice, struggling to reckon with the mother who left her behind. Their parallel journeys toward and away from family are among the film’s most poignant throughlines.
There are many things “Blood Lines” does exceptionally well. It offers a rare, loving glimpse into Métis culture, including dialogue in Michif, bannock shared among family and friends, and Métis Day celebrations featuring traditional jigs. These cultural details are rich and specific, and feel like acts of preservation on screen. There’s even a touching moment of dialogue that distinguishes Métis from broader Indigenous identities in Canada, quietly educating while never lecturing.
The kokums, with their nosy affection and unwavering support, provide both comic relief and emotional grounding. Their attempts to nudge Beatrice toward reconciliation, including intervention car rides filled with wisdom and sass, feel authentic, never forced. Léonore, now five years sober, wants another chance. But Beatrice has not forgotten the intoxicated visits during her childhood, the ache of abandonment. Her pain is palpable, and it’s here that the film is at its most affecting – the mother-daughter dynamic is the film’s emotional core and its greatest strength.
Unfortunately, “Blood Lines” stumbles hard, disastrously so. Without revealing the twist, it’s enough to say that what could have been a gentle, meditative story about found family, healing, and cultural rediscovery is instead derailed by a revelation so frustrating and upsetting that it sours nearly everything that came before. The twist is meant to illuminate the real-life tragedy of Indigenous children taken from their families and the generational trauma deeply felt in communities across Canada. But here, it feels like narrative overreach. It’s unnecessary and squashes a central relationship. Worse still, it attempts to retroactively justify both Léonore’s addiction and Beatrice’s abandonment, tying them to a melodramatic plot device that you can’t help but roll your eyes at.
There are other, smaller issues, like moments of stiff or unnatural dialogue that make certain exchanges feel scripted rather than lived in, and the romance between Beatrice and Chani that, while moving in its quieter moments, feels rushed in its start. Chani’s sudden judgment of Beatrice’s treatment of her mother also feels unearned, especially considering she has no context for their strained relationship.
Yet despite all this, “Blood Lines” isn’t without merit. Its stillness, loving attention to community dynamics, and the nuanced performance by Dana Solomon as Beatrice keep it afloat. In the end, it’s a film about identity, the scars of disconnection, and the uneasy path to reconciliation. It’s beautifully shot, culturally rich, and anchored by a compelling central dynamic between a mother and her daughter.
But by reaching for a twist it doesn’t need, one that feels more like a betrayal than a revelation, the film abandons its strongest storytelling instincts. And in doing so, it leaves us not with catharsis, but with frustration.
