2024 Top Ten List #7 The Night Logan Woke Up (La nuit où Laurier Gaudreault s'est réveillé)

 

Director Xavier Dolan

Dolan on the set

THE NIGHT LOGAN WOKE UP (La nuit où Laurier Gaudreault s'est réveillé) – made for TV        A-           Canada  (293 mi)  2022  d: Xavier Dolan

When you die of our loving,
I will go into the garden and plant a flower that blooms in the early morning
Half metal, half paper, so it wounds my foot a little
Die of a very gentle death so that a flower may grow 

When you die of our loving,
I will compose a song with a tune of our times - a singing song for seven years
You will hear it, you will learn it, and your lips will thank me
Die of a very weary death so that I may compose it 

When you die of our loving,
the two books I shall write will be so beautiful that you can use them for your grave
And I, in turn, will lie down there, for I will die the same day
Die of a very tender death as you await them 

When you die of our loving,
I will take the key and hang myself on the hook of spoiled joys
And no one will know that we conquered those paths
Die of an exquisite death so that I may tell of them 

When you die of our loving, if too little is left of me, don’t ask me why
In the lies that follow we would be neither beautiful nor true
Die of a very lively death so that I may follow you

—Rufus Wainwright with Kate & Anna McGarrigle, 2005, Rufus Wainwright - Quand vous mourrez de nos amours YouTube (3:33)

The pandemic affected everyone differently, with Dolan sitting around with more spare time than usual, coming up with a plan to do a television mini-series, adapting French-Canadian playwright Michel Marc Bouchard’s 2019 stage production of La nuit où Laurier Gaudreault s’est reveille.  Having adapted the same playwright before in 2014 Top Ten List #7 Tom at the Farm (Tom à la ferme) (2013), Dolan places himself onscreen in both films while also using a stellar cast from the original play, creating something closer to the Hitchcock psychological thriller mode as he examines a dysfunctional family dynamic when an unspeakable event traumatizes Val-des-Chutes, a small town in Québec, with reverberations swirling around their lives afterwards, set simultaneously in 2019 and 1991, freely moving back and forth between times.  Few directors have made a series of films as personally compelling as Dolan, 2010 Top Ten Films of the Year: #7 I Killed My Mother (J’ai Tue Ma Mere) (2009), 2010 Top Ten Films of the Year: #4 Heartbeats (Les Amours Imaginaires) (2010), 2013 Top Ten List #2 Laurence Anyways (2012), 2014 Top Ten List #7 Tom at the Farm (Tom à la ferme) (2013), 2015 Top Ten List #1 Mommy (2014), 2018 Top Ten List #6 It's Only the End of the World (Juste la fin du monde) (2016), 2020 Top Ten List #3 The Death and Life of John F. Donovan (2018), 2020 Top Ten List #7 Matthias & Maxime (Matthias et Maxime) (2019), many of them still flying under the radar, as outside of MOMMY (2014), none have been released commercially in the United States.  2020 Top Ten List #3 The Death and Life of John F. Donovan (2018) was supposed to be the English language film that broke into American markets, but negative media postings about problems behind the scenes created adverse publicity, as actress Jessica Chastain, originally announced as one of the film’s leads, was cut completely from the final version, so that American release never happened, with critics lambasting the film with negative reviews, a startling point of view that is undeserved.  Dolan was deemed a wunderkind and child prodigy, making critically acclaimed films as a teenager, typically writing, directing, acting, producing, editing, and even serving as the costume designer, while also subtitling his films into English, having an immediate impact at the Cannes Film Festival where he was lauded with praise, having more films play at the festival over ten years than most directors will experience in their lifetimes, until the advent of social media finally turned on him with a vengeance, including incessant tweets of polarizing reactions, some of which turned condescending and viciously personal, becoming an onslaught of relentless attacks, where it wasn’t his films so much as his personality they didn’t like.  Unafraid to speak out against LGBTQ prejudice and homophobia and in support of marriage equality in Canada, the media suddenly read his films as arrogance, self-indulgence, and narcissistic entitlement, describing him as a “spoiled child.”  Yet his emotional acceptance speech at Cannes after winning the Jury Prize for MOMMY surprised many with its intelligence, eloquence, and heartfelt authenticity, paying a personal tribute to Jury President Jane Campion, whose poetic films have had a profound influence on his work, where their touching embrace remains one of the memorable moments of the festival.  

Dolan has always been more popular internationally than he is at home in Québec, where he became in right-leaning circles the face of unprofitable cinema and wasteful government spending, yet his talents as a filmmaker are undeniable, where his signature style exaggerates color and music, often changing film speeds, tinkering with melodrama, while utilizing eclectic musical choices ranging from classic to pop music, often providing the emotional heart and soul of his films, accentuating a strongly aesthetic approach, where his cinema is a whirlwind of unrestrained emotions putting us in closer touch with our deepest and most intimate feelings.  Dolan is probably overdue for a renewed evaluation, as this new generation has yet to see his films, and there have been no traveling film retrospectives delving into his career, but he’s only thirty-five, so his future is still wide open.  Besides a long-term collaboration with his cinematographer André Turpin, obviously playing a significant role in his visual aesthetic, Dolan has also utilized a coterie of recurring actresses and actors who have now become associated with him, most notably Anne Dorval and Suzanne Clément, with Dorval having a profound influence on yet another film (their 6th together) as the Larouche family matriarch, Madeleine, or “Maddy,” whose death in the opening segment sets the wheels in motion, where deeply buried secrets that have been long repressed for decades suddenly resurface.  Dolan provides a dizzying, stream-of-conscious narrative that continually goes back and forth in time, where writing for a 5-part, 5-hour television series is a very different style, perhaps modeled after David Lynch’s quirky small town drama Twin Peaks (1990-91), but like all his other films, extremely impactful.  While the action of the play takes place entirely in a funeral home, with the family gathered around, Dolan added the different time periods, characters, and locations in writing the adaption.  It’s like he’s layering 5 or 6 different storylines, just dropping little hints as we go, continually keeping viewers off-balance while building momentum and suspense, mixing elements of horror, humor, and drama, where it’s a unique experience, to say the least, and in a shockingly good way.  As an actor himself, Dolan has a talent for directing other actors, as it’s one of his biggest strengths, where this film seems to emphasize his fascination with strong female actresses who are truly exceptional.  Even the opening sequence that repeats in each episode is an absolute delight, with rousing music written by Hans Zimmer and David Fleming evoking a feeling of anticipated dread, The Night Logan Woke Up (Original Series Soundtrack) YouTube (1:20), setting the stage for a bit of droll fun and amusement, like a private eye whodunit, but it plays out quite differently, capturing the complex personalities of an ensemble family unit in two distinct time periods, becoming a before and after saga with profound implications.  In that regard it resembles Robert Altman’s superb adaptation of Ed Graczyk’s play, Come Back to the Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean (1982), both driven by powerful performances, where Dolan’s films are about outsiders trying to fit in, while also carrying a traumatic image of latent homophobia in a conservative society that emerges over decades.

While this is Dolan’s television directorial debut, he tells deeply human stories with a unique voice, and this extended format allows him an opportunity to develop complex relationships in this edgy character study, literally breathing life into each one, where the different chapter headings allow for a teasing aspect to develop, as intentional cliffhangers are placed at the end of each episode, spurring interest to see what happens in the next serial installment.  Each segment opens with an innovative and cleverly imagined moment of dramatic intensity before the opening credits roll, like an appetizer before the main course, but it sets the stage in establishing mood and atmosphere, as Dolan literally drenches the screen with ominous overtones, plunging us into a world of darkness.  The family is nearly always depicted in a closely confined, claustrophobic setting, with a muted color palette casting a suffocating shadow over the household, while elements of surreal horror amplify daydream sequences, or instantaneous flashbacks, which are treated as an inescapable aspect of existing realities.  As Maddy lays on her death bed, she is surrounded by family and an attending nurse.  Slowly, each of the characters are introduced, each dealing with their own demons, as we come to realize these men are brothers, the oldest Julien (Patrick Hivon), arguably the most tortured, a former alcoholic who has returned to take college classes, Denis (Éric Bruneau), who seems to have a calming influence, though from a distance, while the youngest, Elliot, is played by Dolan himself, literally embodying the role of a man just released from a drug rehab center earlier in the day in order to be there, seen with red marks on his neck, perhaps signs of earlier suicide attempts.  Also seen in the foreground is Julien’s wife Chantal (Magalie Lépine-Blondeau in her third Dolan film), who is like a breath of fresh air in defying her husband’s callous indifference, while exhibiting astonishing range.  But there’s a moment before any of the family have arrived when Maddy is alone, as her attendant is out temporarily having a smoke, so she struggles in an effort to move on her own, but is seen answering the phone.  While we don’t hear the call, it produces devastating results, as she frantically searches through mementos from 1991, and is discovered in a disheveled heap on the floor in an agitated state, which later leads to the summoning of the family, as the end is near, but not before a flashback sequence takes us to happier times, suddenly quickening the pace, giving the film a fresher look and a brighter color palette.  14-year old sister Mireille, aka “Mimi” (Jasmine Lemée) and brother Julien (Elijah Patrice-Baudelot) are best friends with the neighbor next door, Logan Goodyear (Pier-Gabriel Lajoie), as both are on the same baseball team that just won the regional championship, while Mimi dreams of them one day running off to the United States together and “get the hell outta here.”  But Maddy is running for mayor (often referred to as the mayor that wasn’t), supposedly setting a moral example, while Mimi has insomnia, with a notorious habit of sneaking into the house next door at night, supposedly out of curiosity, yet it could lead to disastrous results, which, of course, it does, where the ominous implications recall Boo Radley, the mysteriously haunting next door neighbor in Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird (1962).

At Maddy’s bedside, she openly pushes Julien’s hand away, not by accident, but intentionally, which makes little sense at the time, causing him immeasurable grief, especially because it comes at the very moment before her death, as if she’s literally scared to death by his presence.  In the empty quiet of the moment, Dolan produces what is arguably the most impactful scene of the film, using music as only he can, Rufus Wainwright - Quand vous mourrez de nos amours YouTube (3:33), which resonates long afterwards, creating a poetic sequence of staggering emotional devastation, reminiscent of a similar moment in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia (1999), where each one finds themselves alone afterwards, lost in their own memories, somehow feeling alienated and disconnected from the world around them.  Then in something of an unexpected surprise, Mireille (Julie Le Breton), who’s been absent for nearly thirty years, suddenly walks into the funeral home to announce she intends to embalm their mother’s body.  End of chapter one.  Now that is drama.  One of the most extraordinary movies ever made for television remains Maurice Pialat’s The House in the Woods (La Maison des Bois) (1971), a 7-episode, six hour film that carries the depth and weight of a novel and remains an unforgettable experience.  It’s a similar feeling here watching the exact same opening and closing credit sequences, hearing the same music each time, as it recalls how it felt to let the density of Pialat’s film sink in, where you have a chance to catch your breath and reflect for a moment before the next chapter begins.  A very precarious balance is broken with the return of Mireille, not just for the family, who are not exactly friendly, people with multiple disorders, from drug and alcohol addiction to unhealthy or unorthodox sexuality, but also inflames the vitriol of the small-town community at large, as it brings to the surface painful memories, where lingering anger and distressing rumors still persist.  But it is Xavier Dolan’s virtuoso camera that plunges us into the past, as his attention to detail is exemplary, exploring old family conflicts, wasted ambitions, and unforgivable betrayals.  By masterfully linking the past with the present, the storyline gradually reveals the ambivalence of the characters, their regrets, and possibly even a path to redemption.  Dolan surrounded himself with an exceptional group of actors, with Patrick Hivon, Éric Bruneau, Julie Le Breton, and Magalie Lépine-Blondeau reprising their stage roles, adding Dolan’s favorite actress in the always amazing Anne Dorval, who is nothing short of bubbly in her role, and the director himself as a young man in an extremely fragile state of mind, as well as a talented group of young actors to play the featured characters as much wilder teenagers.  Given time to explore human complexity in all its hidden places, Dolan’s film literally bristles with life from start to finish in this intensely realized series, where there are dozens of stand-out moments that just jump off the screen, where some of the most compelling feature the music of Céline Dion - Regarde-moi (Live à Paris 1995) - YouTube (3:50) and James Blake’s adaptation of the Joy Division song Atmosphere YouTube (3:58), reaffirming that he’s one of the most talented directors of the 21st century, where the guy just doesn’t make anything that isn’t dazzlingly good.

The Night Logan Woke Up - YouTube (6:43)  Xavier Dolan and cast members Julie Le Breton and Elijah Patrice-Baudelot describe the experience of making the film

Xavier Dolan Picks 10 Greatest Films Of All Time

2014 Top Ten List #7 Tom at the Farm (Tom à la ferme)

TOM AT THE FARM (Tom à la ferme)    A-           
Canada  France  (105 mi)  2013  d: Xavier Dolan 

Round like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that's turning
Running rings around the moon 
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half-forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream
 
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly?
Was it something that I said?
Lovers walk along a shore
And leave their footprints in the sand
Was the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway
Or the fragment of a song
Half-remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of her hair?

Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

—The Windmills of Your Mind (Dusty Springfield) - YouTube (3:52), by Michel Legrand, initially featured in Norman Jewison’s THE THOMAS CROWN AFFAIR (1968), sung by Noel Harrison

Once more, Dolan continues to dazzle and impress, though here in an altogether different style than anything he’s ever done before, adapting someone else’s work for the first time, a play by Canadian playwright Michel Marc Bouchard that he co-writes with the author for the screen, creating a much more accessible film experience, a Hitchcock suspense drama that is more conventionally restrained and not nearly as experimental as his others, yet it has still been equally ignored by American distributors which, along with his brilliant first two films, were simply never released, even on DVD, until many years afterwards.  Despite consistently winning awards at either Cannes or Venice for all but one of his five films, Dolan remains almost unheard of in America, and this for a director who has just turned 25.  All of his films are stylistically impressive, where they boldly kick a complacent movie audience out of their usual comfort zone with stunning cinematography, audacious camera movement, novelesque detail, naturalistic acting, and brilliant musical scores, where year after year his films stand out from the rest for his youthful energy, extraordinary artistry, and striking originality.  Nonetheless, despite being on the festival circuit last year, this film does not have a distributor in the United States, so when it was being shown at the Cinetopia International Film Festival 200 miles away in Ann Arbor, Michigan, one had to jump at the opportunity, where it was screened as a non-Blu-Ray DVD in an old, run-down theater to a half-filled house as a midnight feature. 

The most understated of all the Dolan films, yet highly personalized, where the overriding power of the film all happened in the recent past, where the reverberations from a death play out onscreen, taken from someone else's play, with Dolan's imprint all over it.  It doesn't have the dazzle factor of his other films, as it's not nearly so visually expressive, yet it packs a punch, even if it's expressed with restraint in a kind of unfathomable situation.  Reminiscent of the altered psychological disorientation of German filmmaker Christian Petzold in films like YELLA (2007), JERICHOW (2008), and BARBARA (2012), it's similar in the way it focuses on internalizations, yet uses visual cues to indicate an imbalance, where the world is not as it seems.  Both directors seem to thrive on psychological repression, though the German director is far more minimalist, while Dolan allows a bit of Sirkian melodrama to creep in.  Part of the film’s intrigue is how the backstory remains at a distance throughout, where bits and pieces surface, but most remains hidden from view, even by the end, where the downbeat tone feels like it’s picking up right where Ang Lee’s Brokeback Mountain (2005) left off, in a searingly despairing sequence where the surviving partner of a deceased gay lover goes to visit his partner’s family that he has never met for the funeral, where in this case the 25-year old son, Guillaume, never acknowledged he was gay, but instead made up a lie that he was seeing a girlfriend in Montreal.  While this eventually becomes known, it’s not at the outset, as instead the director uses a dual track narration in the opening sequence, where we hear a soaring, anthem-like, a cappela rendition by French-speaking Kathleen Fortin singing Michel Legrand’s  “The Windmills of Your Mind” Xavier Dolan -Tom à la ferme- "Les moulins de mon cœur" Michel Legrand. YouTube (2:22), which plays as Tom (Xavier Dolan) is driving from Montreal to a rather bleak part of Northern Quebec’s rural flatlands, while simultaneously, rapid thoughts are written on a napkin that lyrically describe his emotional devastation.    

With a murky opening set in a hovering fog, Tom arrives alone at a farmhouse, finding no one there, but lets himself inside where he sits asleep at the kitchen table, beautifully set up with interior shots, when suddenly someone is inside staring at him.  The starkness of the sudden appearance feels like an awakening, or an apparition, allowing the real story to begin.  Lise Roy is Agathe, Guillaume’s aging mother, who is obviously surprised by this intruder, but becomes hospitable once she learns he’s a friend of her son, remaining oblivious throughout about their true relationship, and ominously puts Tom in her son’s bedroom, seen sleeping with an article of Guillaume’s clothing next to his face.  But Tom is awoken with a fright, as he’s assaulted by someone’s hands around his throat, where this is Francis (Pierre-Yves Cardinal), the bullying older brother who actually runs the farm, who threateningly tells Tom how it’s going to be, that no secrets will be revealed, that they will play along with the fiction so as not to upset his mother.  For the rest of the film, Francis hovers over Tom like a dog that won’t release a bone, slapping him around at will, subjecting him to continual abuse, literally making his life as difficult as possible.  Agathe, however, couldn’t be happier by the visit, though she’s seething with anger when she learns the girlfriend is not showing up for the funeral.  She asks Tom to offer a few words about her son at the funeral service, the same thoughts that were narrated at the outset by his blurry notes scribbled on a napkin, but when the time arises, he’s so overwhelmed by the violent intimidations of Francis that he’s afraid to say anything.  He does choose a musical selection, however, which strangely begins in the middle of the song during a heightened crescendo, Mario Pelchat’s “Tears in the Rain,” Mario Pelchat --Pleurs dans la pluie - YouTube (5:32).  Due to his rude welcoming, Tom heads out of town after the funeral, happy to be rid of the “hick redneck farmer,” but has second thoughts, knowing he would hate himself for running away, as his lover’s thoughts remain foremost in his mind, believing he can endure anything, even this fiction that denies his own implicit part in his lover’s life.  Agathe expresses disappointment that Tom didn’t speak, but Dolan curiously allows Tom to express his own feelings through Sara, the fictional girlfriend, using a free flowing, stream-of-conscious emotional release that sounds more and more like himself, even expressing graphic X-rated sexual content, a stunning turn of events with Francis staring bullets right through him at the kitchen table ready to pounce at any moment, but Agathe is defiantly unashamed and breaks out laughing, “Sara’s quite the little whore, isn’t she?”

Francis is impressed with Tom’s dramatic revelations, how he kept to the guidelines of the established fiction, and actually introduces him to the chores of the farm, admittedly hard work, getting your feet muddy and your hands dirty, where Tom becomes quite the farmhand in no time, though delivering a calf brings back a rush of memories, where he’s assaulted by the vividness of his recollections in much the same way that Francis continues to inflict punishment.  There’s a particularly brutal scene in the middle of a cornfield that leaves him battered and bruised, where the devotion to his dead lover is a horrifyingly painful exhibition, much like the masochistic extremes that Emily Watson endures to please her paralyzed lover in BREAKING THE WAVES (1996), yet there is also tenderness reflected in a scene where Francis and Tom dance the tango in the barn, reflecting the repressed homosexuality of Francis, where a guy with sociopathic tendencies becomes almost human for a moment, where one can see that the torment he inflicts onto others is a mirror into his own broken soul, making him a man who can’t live with himself, who takes it out on others by dominating them physically and inflicting pain.  In a completely unexpected turn of events, Tom calls his friend Sara (Évelyne Brochu), the photocopy girl and real-life friend who is the subject of all the imaginary embellishments.  Dolan adds a curious element of suspicion and dread about what goes on at the farmhouse, as people in town make reference to this dysfunctional family as if they are concealing an ax-murderer, where no one wants to go near the house itself, as the cab driver leaves Sara a healthy walk away.  It’s interesting to see how she fits into her own fictionalized story, driven to tell the truth, but not willing to get pulverized by the psychopathic brother.  Agathe, of course, is thrilled by her appearance, but disappointed she doesn’t reflect more sorrow from the loss.  She is shocked to discover Tom has literally transformed into a world of make believe, subject to delirious ramblings, where he’s completely under the thumb of a delusional force, as if hypnotized.  Perhaps the strangest turn of events is the way Dolan uses Hitchcockian methods of horror to express the psychological shifts taking place, where in one scene Tom actually separates from his face and hair, where he’s literally coming apart and losing himself before our watchful eyes.  Dolan also changes the aspect ratio throughout the film, becoming narrowly constricted while also widening to super widescreen, perhaps reflecting the elasticity of the fluctuating emotional states.  The musical score by Gabriel Yared is equally hysterical, reflecting an emotional imbalance through dissonance and shrieking strings.  Because of the minimalist interpretation, leaving out pertinent details, the film is layered in ambiguities, where the motives never become clear, and where there is no real resolution, as the underlying horror lingers well after the film is over.  Of interest, both Lise Roy and Évelyne Brochu performed their respective roles in the theatrical version of the play. 

The overriding darkness of the film is quite unusual, reminiscent of Claire Denis’s equally gloomy portrait of a slow, poisoned, self-destruction in 2013 Top Ten List #6 Bastards (Les Salauds), yet also Alain Guiraudie’s gay-themed, sexually explicit Stranger By the Lake (L'inconnu du lac) (2013), another Hitchcock style thriller that examines a homoerotic attraction to danger, exhibiting a kind of precarious self-loathing where one surrenders body and soul, even potentially one’s life, for the dangerous chance at love with someone whose sexual charm is their unpredictability along with the criminal aspects of their personality, someone capable of murder, for instance, who feels no remorse, where loving them is accepting the conditions that you must live in a self-imposed blindness.  It is this illusory emotional void that Dolan taps into, where you literally lose yourself for a chance at love, but are then double crossed by the unexpected turn of events when your partner dies, and you’re left with an unfillable emptiness.  It’s not shocking that Tom would have a sexual attraction to the brutal behavior of Francis, but it becomes all the more intriguing as an extension of his overwhelming love and grief for his lost lover.  Brothers have similarities, their smell, the sound of their voice, their shared rooms, where the allure can be irresistible, despite the sadistic aspects that come with the territory.  This back and forth between fluctuating (sometimes invented) scenarios and conflicting emotions guides us through the film, where one has an unmistakable need for connection, irrespective of the consequences.  The arrival of Sara alters the landscape with Francis, where their base physical love/hate attraction to the opposite sex allows Tom some cover, a moment to himself, which plays out in what is arguably the best scene in the film, where Tom sits alone at a bar in town and hears, in descriptive detail from the bartender (Manuel Tadros), an event out of the brother’s obscure past that has chilling consequences on the present, a blisteringly intense moment that makes one wonder whether Tom could actually have been part of this living memory, where truth and fiction collide in establishing emotional truth, where everything that came before leads to a new understanding in the form of an unexpected revelation.  The film has a Sirkian thread of melodrama about it where the surface reality clouds a stronger, unseen force, where the murky waters of being gay is the underlying context throughout, especially the unmitigated violence that goes along with it, though this is never an acknowledged aspect of the storyline that deals more with issues of grief, anguish, death, deceit, and disillusionment.  The way Dolan creates a psychological horror thriller out of being gay is starkly unique and original, like Fassbinder’s epic BERLIN ALEXANDERPLATZ (1980), where the presence of Guillaume hovers over every shot of the film, like a haunting specter, and Dolan, as he does in every film, takes us places we have never been before, where this is mostly under the surface, displaying a bit of incensed anger at the world (and particularly the United States in its violent anti-gay phobia) in Rufus Wainwright’s song over the end credits, Rufus Wainwright - Going To A Town YouTube (4:06).