When JT finally arrived, the atmosphere shifted immediately from low-budget art experiment to federal dream sequence. Assistants materialized carrying coconut-milk lattes and dense clipboards. JT entered wearing a winter coat that appeared focus-grouped for compassion. He hugged everyone with alarming confidence. Clara whispered to Marcello, “He embraces like a motivational poster that learned eye contact.”
At first the collaboration was wonderful. JT’s ideas for the video were deeply Canadian in the way only somebody raised within proximity to official multicultural brochures could conceive. He wanted them performing while drifting separately in canoes that slowly converged in fog. He wanted cutaways to abandoned shopping malls, northern highways, immigrant families eating soup, children playing hockey beneath smokestacks, and closeups of ordinary Canadians staring directly into the lens as if silently negotiating with history. At one point he proposed releasing a thousand biodegradable paper hearts across Lake Ontario while Clara played fretless bass through a portable amplifier powered by solar panels. Another scene involved Marcello singing inside a laundromat while elderly Ukrainian dancers circled slowly around shopping carts filled with oranges. Against all reason, some of it actually looked beautiful. Then things deteriorated. The problem was nobody knew who was directing anymore. JT spoke in the polished language of consultation. Clara spoke in declarations. Marcello kept trying to mediate while also wondering why Katy Perry was constantly playing in the background. Nobody requested that. Yet somehow, every location they entered contained Katy Perry. A production assistant’s Bluetooth speaker. A café nearby. A passing car. During an emotional discussion about symbolism and late capitalism, “Firework” suddenly erupted from somewhere behind the catering tent. JT paused thoughtfully and said, “You know, structurally that chorus is incredibly unifying.”
As the shoot continued, the divisions sharpened. Marcello wanted to finish before somebody from Heritage Canada arrived asking difficult questions about invoices. Meetings grew longer. Smiles became professional. Then JT insisted the video required “more hope,” while Clara argued hope was merely “advertising wearing moisturizer.”
By the final day everyone looked depressed. A strange portrait of Canada emerged. Beautiful, confused, over-managed, emotionally sincere, performative. Months later, when the video was released, streams doubled.