THE STORY – A 24-year-old music critic gets romantically involved with members of an indie band she decides to publicize, set against Montreal’s indie music scene in 2011.
THE CAST – Barbie Ferreira, Devon Bostick, Stanley Simons, Juliette Gariépy & Jay Baruchel
THE TEAM – Chandler Levack (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 111 Minutes
Montreal may be one of the most polarizing cities in North America, a place that can feel like paradise for extended periods before suddenly becoming chaotic and unwelcoming. On a summer afternoon, the sun beams down, cafés spill onto the sidewalks, the St. Viateur bagel shop churns out its hot, pillowy, sesame-coated rings, and the city feels unbeatable. Yet only hours later, a storm might sweep through, turning the ever-present construction debris into treacherous sludge. Or a carefree day at the park might be interrupted by anarchic art projects or a riot sparked by the outcome of a hockey game, win or lose. Add up all these contradictions, and the city delivers about six weeks a year where it almost convinces outsiders that it isn’t just a place to visit, but a place to live.
This polarity between the dream of Montreal and the sometimes sad, often poetic reality is at the heart of Chandler Levack’s “Mile End Kicks,” a love letter to her youth in the Mile End neighborhood. Long considered one of the creative centers of the Plateau area, Mile End has been home to artists, musicians, and bohemians drawn by cheap rents, abundant space, and tolerant neighbors. Beginning in the 1980s, this combination created an incubator for a thriving music and arts scene, one that endured for decades.
Generations earlier, the same streets served as the milieu for Mordecai Richler, whose characters, like those in “The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz,” roamed St. Urbain. Remnants of that earlier world remain, in bagel shops and Hasidic families in fur hats, even as the area expanded into a hotbed of clubs, record labels, and trendsetting shops. It’s the kind of crucible of creativity where a film named after a neighborhood footwear store feels both fitting and inevitable.
Into this world steps music critic Grace Pine (Barbie Ferreira), a suburban up-and-coming figure whose biting reviews in Toronto’s alternative weeklies have made her a voice to be taken seriously. Answering an ad for a shared flat in Montreal, she sets off on what is both a spiritual sabbatical and a professional leap, determined to write the definitive 33 1/3-style review of Alanis Morissette’s “Jagged Little Pill,” a cornerstone of Canadian feminist rock.
Grace leaves behind her boss (Jay Baruchel) and the insufferable bearded colleagues who exclude her from their conversations, only to find herself immersed in cigarettes, drugs, alcohol, and an intoxicating scene of angular rock bands and moody DJ sets. The ensemble cast—including Juliette Gariépy, Stanley Simons, Robert Naylor, Emily Lê, and Hasani Freeman—forms a motley crew of creatives who embody the allure and frustrations of artistic youth. While some characters feel thinly drawn, serving more as narrative signposts, Ferreira’s Grace emerges as a fully realized protagonist.
Devon Bostick shines as the friend who teeters on the edge of something more, managing to avoid cliché more often than not. Less effective is a side plot involving the band’s bassist, played by Isaiah Lehtinen, the star of Levack’s debut “I Like Movies.” While his inclusion feels like a nod to Levack’s past success, the subplot lacks the urgency of the main story and adds little beyond texture.
The film’s verisimilitude owes much to the fact that the real-life band Tops portrays the group at the center of Grace’s fascination. The authenticity of their performances makes Grace’s shift from critic to would-be manager entirely plausible. But the film’s greatest strength lies in Ferreira’s performance. Both fierce and vulnerable, her portrayal captures the hunger, insecurity, and raw energy of youth without tipping into parody. Credited as an executive producer, Ferreira invests fully in Grace, navigating her most awkward and even infuriating moments with humanity. The audience’s empathy is earned, not assumed, thanks to her nuanced work and Levack’s trust in her range.
There are moments where the narrative stretches thin. The back-home storyline is underdeveloped, little more than an emotional signpost, while other sequences linger too long without payoff. Yet Ferreira grounds the film so firmly that even its most indulgent detours feel tethered to something real. While “Mile End Kicks” invites inevitable comparisons to “Almost Famous,” the similarities are superficial. Levack’s film may also follow a young writer navigating the chaos of the music industry, but tonally and musically, the two could not be further apart.
Ultimately, “Mile End Kicks” is a messy, heartfelt portrait of youth and creative ambition. Some will find its chaotic spirit irresistible, charmed by the authenticity of its Montreal setting and Ferreira’s performance, while others may find its heavy-handedness grating. Like the neighborhood itself, the film is a beautiful place to visit but a difficult one to stay in. Levack captures both the exhilaration and the exhaustion of youth, a time when failures sting less because life still feels wide open. And in choosing St. Viateur over the inferior Fairmount bagels, Grace and her peers prove that, despite their chaos, they know the city well enough to get at least one essential thing right.
