Agatha’s Almanac
(Canada, 86 min.)
Dir. Amalie Atkins
Programme: Canadian Spectrum (North American premiere)
“Good tub from Anne Leadbetter,” reads a piece of tape adorning a washing tub outside Agatha Bock’s home. “June 2003.”
Amalie Atkins’ aunt Agatha loves tape. She’s the reigning “duct tape queen” of her family. Agatha’s Almanac could rightly give Bock claim over Manitoba, Canada, and the world when it comes to using tape wisely. Agatha lets nothing go to waste.
Tape proves her trusty resource, fixer-upper, and guide. Masking tape labels all the odds and ends in Agatha’s cupboards, pantries, and piles. They advise her of canning dates, inform her what old cereal box holds whatever loose tools, and label bags of seeds or leftovers. (“Parsley, 2021.”)
Peeling tape with faded marker even advises “does not work” on a broken fan that sits in Agatha’s collection, amassing dust and seemingly serving purposes only decorative. A shrewd mix of masking tape and duct tape (white to match the paint) even holds Agatha’s house together. It seals the windows to keep the heat in and the flies out. Aesthetic and functionality, take your pick.
Agatha Bock, simply put, offers a truly memorable character. She’s an eclectic wonder in this artfully affectionate doc portrait. Her love for tape marks one of her many (many) idiosyncrasies, but Atkins largely trains her eye on Agatha’s true prize: her garden.
This veteran DIY dame, who celebrates her 90th birthday during the course of filming, proves a wizardly green thumb. Atkins observes as Agatha plants seeds, harvests crops, and tends to her land. All the while, Agatha offers sage wisdom. The independent Agatha clearly relishes the attentive ear.
However, Atkins’ aunt doesn’t come across as a lonely woman even though no human visitors enter the frame. In some of the film’s rambling voiceovers, drawn partly from phone calls and answering machine messages, Agatha reveals that her garden informs her social calendar. She often checks in wondering about Amalie’s needs for this fruit or that veggie. She also teaches her niece about the art of making pierogis, which she freezes as evidence of frequent company.
One can only imagine, however, how Agatha has time for visitors. She keeps busy with her garden and thrives with her independence. Amid her nattering, she tells Atkins that she never married simply because she didn’t see the point. Canning secrets are to Agatha what children are to others. She takes things really seriously, too. Agatha’s Almanac humorously observes when its star berates the director for washing strawberries prior to storing them. Tough love proves nature’s gift in Agatha’s Almanac.
Shot in wondrously luminous 16mm images by cinematographer Rhayne Vermette, Agatha’s Almanac radiates with the pure joy that these rituals afford Bock daily. The loving colour palette accentuates the ripeness of Agatha’s bountiful and juicy fruits, from succulent red strawberries to eye-poppingly pink watermelons. The weathered character of Agatha’s lived-in abode provides aesthetically pleasing contrasts, while her vibrant wardrobe, curated in collaboration with Atkins, ensure that the titular aunt’s personality radiates in every frame.
As Agatha teaches Atkins tricks of her trade, like tapping melons to gauge ripeness, she shares tales about her storied life. She recalls the loss of several siblings, with some deaths proving more sudden and difficult over time. Meanwhile, other tales lament crops devoured by pesky animals.
One can’t help but crack a smile, though, as Agatha’s joie de vivre circles back to the rituals that fuel her. For example, she advises Atkins that her simple diet sustains her: a religious supper schedule of radish sandwiches. She makes them with one slice of homemade brown bread and one slice of grocery store white. Shot through Vermette’s lens, though, it simply looks delicious. This is an artfully handcrafted film that shares an affinity for its star’s habit for doing things in her own peculiar way.
The film’s centrepiece serves a slice of pure joy when Agatha rolls a luscious watermelon into her kitchen. Then she plops it onto the table and attacks it heartily with a knife. The camera nearly drools as the juices flow. Simple pleasures yield significant moments in Agatha’s Almanac as Atkins’ portrait encourages audiences to reflect upon her aunt’s way of life. On one hand, Agatha’s world seems like a bygone era with its vintage bric-a-brac, chipped china cups, and carefully coloured garden tools. (Agatha paints her handles red so that she doesn’t lose her spades and hoes.)
But while Agatha’s chores may seem simple and relaxed, Atkins observes her aunt’s remarkable strength and independence. Gardening this intensely hardly equals easy work. It’s tough labour. Agatha wears the scars of her hard-grown bounty, breaking bones and landing in the hospital following a scare with arterial bleeding. But blood just serves as a distant relative to beet juice in Agatha’s eyes. She’s a tough cookie, as they say, and knows that tape can fix anything. One can only imagine Agatha’s delight over the adhesives that hold together the 16mm frames that tell her story.
Agatha’s Almanac premiered at Hot Docs 2025.
Get more coverage from this year’s festival here, and read more about the film in our interview with Atkins in our current issue.
