Taking self-love to new heights, Canadian provocateur Bruce LaBruce’s zany 70s-set family affair drips with blasphemous, outrageous delights. The tongue-in-cheek opening leaps straight out of a retro softcore magazine: clad in tight jeans and biker jacket, hunky Dominic (Félix-Antoine Duval) discreetly eyes a mischievous young lady at the laundromat before the pair disrobe and writhe around on a table like rabbits in heat. As strangers gather to stare at the salacious hanky-panky, Dominic is suddenly snapped out of his daydream.
The scene might simply be a sticky reverie, but it also establishes how Saint-Narcisse portrays sex as a spectacle, a sensual yet comical tableau served to titillate and amuse all at once. With the swagger of Marlon Brando in The Wild One, Dominic hops on his bike and embarks on a road trip strung with high and low cultural references, as he searches for his long lost twin. Not only does Dominic reunite with his lesbian witch mother – you read that right – but he also locates his brother Daniel in a monastery, where he suffers daily molestations from a depraved priest.
