Mon Oncle Antoine observes the craggy face of a homespun community from various angles, slowly, taking its time through the beginning, as it should, until we emerge from shattered (but banal) hopes and expectations, into swirling ecstasies of dreams and a heart-stopping revelation about the terrible enigma of mortality.<br /><br />Aimless pans and zooms across the snowy mountainside comfort the mind and hypnotize the viewer. This restless camera work is personified in a fringe character who is equally the drifter, quitting his job at the coal mine and leaving his family to cut lumber, then quitting again and returning to the stark humanity of his boy dead. <br /><br />A fetching old woman cheats on her husband and a young boy dies. Old things become new and new things die. Throughout is the snowy whiteness, as wonder-stricken as the history of cinema.