By the time they reached Vancouver, merch tables could suddenly outperform years of carefully engineered artistic labor. Then came the idea for the video. Not a normal music video. Neither of them trusted normal anymore. They wanted something that looked like a government tourism commercial with a nervous breakdown. Mountains. Wheat fields. Canoes. Slow-motion coffee pouring. Then abrupt cutaways to malfunctioning acetones. Clara suggested they ask Justin Trudeau to direct. Not star but direct. Originally a theatre teacher right? The suggestion arrived during breakfast in Victoria while eating grapefruit.
“He has the hair for visual pacing,” she offered. Most people would have recognized the idea as impossible but they had spent so long operating inside a fog of improvised absurdity – impossibility itself had become negotiable. They sent the email through a Victoria yoga instructor who claimed her cousin once repaired audio equipment for a Liberal Party fundraiser. The message was written with complete sincerity. They explained Canada required “a psychologically destabilized national music film” and believed Justin possessed “the exact combination of optimism and exhaustion necessary to frame the project.”
Weeks passed. Then, unbelievably, a reply. Not from Trudeau but someone in the outer region of his orbit. Polite and mildly confused. Would they be willing to discuss the idea further? Clara reacted as though this sort of thing happened constantly.
“I told you,” she said. “People are hungry for irrational leadership.”
The meeting took place in Toronto months later in a conference room containing expensive water. Trudeau entered smiling with the polished calm of a man who had spent years being simultaneously adored and blamed by millions of strangers. He shook their hands warmly.
“I’ve watched some of your clips,” he said carefully. “I’m still not entirely certain which parts are serious.”
“That’s the Canadian condition,” Clara replied.
Trudeau understood the premise immediately. He spoke thoughtfully about narrative, symbolism, public expectation. He described politics as “a weird cousin of theatre where nobody admits they’re acting.”
Then Clara informed Trudeau she once performed fretless bass for a UNESCO-funded dolphin meditation initiative near Yellowknife. Without blinking, Trudeau nodded slowly and said, “That sounds important.”
Afterward, walking back into the Toronto cold, Marcello realized something strange happened. Years earlier he would have inflated this meeting into mythology automatically, adding helicopters or secret security briefings or tears of admiration from world leaders. But now the truth already sounded fake enough. They had genuinely pitched a surreal music video to a former prime minister and somehow the project was moving forward.