A few minutes into Low Self Esteem Girl, I got the distinct feeling of watching an episode of "Candid Camera" in which the recording device itself, and not the participants, is the one being had. First-time director Blaine Thurier (a former cartoonist for Vancouver's TERMINAL CITY) zigzags his digital video camera about the house of Lois (Corrina Hammond) as if a spy who has unwittingly stumbled upon a stage exercise: Lois and Gregg (Ted Dave), her one night stand, conduct a pillow-fight with overtones of rape, and then she offers him a beer--at which point I half-expected a drama teacher to step into frame and critique their performances.

The problem with most non-professional actors is that they're introverted, but Thurier loaded Low Self Esteem Girl with seasoned indie rockers, so his cast was used to putting on some kind of show. This inevitably leads to as much "Dogma95"-posturing in front of as behind the camera. But, considering how many Canadian productions are devoid of such enthusiasm, Low Self Esteem Girl feels like a breath of fresh air. Dismissing or condemning the film for its source of power (i.e. obvious nods in the direction of Cassavetes' Faces and A Woman Under the Influence that pave the way for more organic improvisation and experimentation) would be counter-productive and unreasonably spiteful, principally because I got such a charge out of watching it.

The movie starts making an impact after that opening sequence. Gregg is a chronically late pot dealer who winds up selling Lois' address and the words key to seducing her to his best client, Garth (James Dawes), thereby discovering a cottage industry. Meanwhile, Lois enters into a "nice" relationship with Rob (Rob McBeth), a born-again urged by Carl (Carl Newman, eerily realistic until the screenplay betrays him), the leader of his youth group, to weave her into their denomination. In an effort to please everybody--she herself last--Lois opens her mind to Christian teachings ("So you have a crush on Jesus?") and continues to sleep around.

In my recent "Perspective Canada Line-Up" article, I theorized from a single sentence synopsis of the electric Low Self Esteem Girl that it is "one of those self-consciously daring, everything-but-the-kitchen-sink comedies young Canucks are famous for." Now, having actually experienced it, I find that "self-consciously daring" better describes said logline that was distributed to members of the press. If the suggestion that finding God might not be the end-all/be-all offends, well, it's always likely to offend.

For the film to be truly impulsive it would have to side with the Christians, portrayed here as passive-aggressive (emphasis on aggressive) liberals steeped in pop doctrine. (All the more surprising that it doesn't, given that Thurier and Newman once fronted a Christian alt-folk band.) In Carl's eagerness to hold an exorcism, Thurier reveals his roots as a comic strip artist, reducing the young pastor's ideals to word balloons, and Low Self Esteem Girl derails. Yet it never train-wrecks, thanks to the truthful reactions of those affected by church hostility. There's real sadness in Lois' conversion of faith--all she really gains in the process is a guilt complex, which doesn't make anyone a 'better' person per se; her pain is mirrored by confused Rob's eventual rebellion against organized religion through hard partying.

I characterized Low Self Esteem Girl to a friend as "depressing comedy," in that we laugh on the outside and cringe on the inside. In a good, thought-provoking way, I might add. (I'm thinking back to how easily two of its Christian characters caved into temptation--young people need to be hedonists.) More often than not, the film smacks of life and reflection; Thurier observes the fringe suburban streets, where the jobless twentysomethings partake in a junkie-chic sense of community, astutely. (Believe me: all of my friends reside in such a place.) Rarely does Canadian cinema sanction this much apperception and empathy, or come in for as many close-ups as Thurier does! The home video aesthetic somehow endears it even further, like a spunky class project, although I anxiously await the renaissance of the tripod.-Bill Chambers