Paul
(Canada, 87 min.)
Dir. Denis Côté
Programme: Canadian Spectrum
Paul appreciates a fine balance between getting clean and getting dirty. Anxiety plagues him, but the Montrealer finds an unexpected outlet for regaining his self-confidence: the BDSM community.
As a “simp,” or a man who offers dutiful service to partners without expectation of reciprocation, Paul gets off by cleaning the homes of dominant women. It sounds odd, but filmmaker Denis Côté (A Skin So Soft, Bestiaire) observes Paul’s healing process with a non-judgemental eye. This offbeat portrait reminds audiences never to yuck someone else’s yum. If anything, it’s a lesson in inventive home remedies.
The film follows Paul as he shares his “healing journey.” The Montrealer has a second life as an Instagrammer named @cleaningsimppaul. He makes videos of himself scrubbing the counters of dommes, sweeping their floors, and washing their windows. As Paul tells in the narration of both his reels and the documentary, cleaning helps him confront his social anxiety and his concerns with body image. At 300 pounds, Paul’s weight makes him anxious to be in public places. He shares with Côté, via chatroom partner dubbed “Anna,” that being overweight forced a period of self-isolation. He tells how he stayed home and self-medicated with snacks and sugary Pepsi. But he understands how messiness can be a manifestation of poor mental health.
Paul observes as its titular character soothes his soul by tidying the abodes of compassionate women. He demonstrates fastidious cleaning skills as no surface, corner, or nook goes uncleaned. Each task yield visible results of his healing process.
Côté affords considerable respect to both Paul and the women. Some of the dommes appear outside the frame and have their voices distorted. Others are fully visible, audible, and named. As with any kink, Paul plays within its participants’ comfort zones.
The film methodically eases into his signature play, too. His visits gradually demonstrate the “simp” part of his duties as dommes offer instructions to clean this or that. Others, clearly working with a relationship built over time, ask Paul about his diet, weight, and exercise. He diligently replies with subservient replies of “oui” ou “non” while addressing his mistresses with the authority they hold.
Sometimes, though, the cleaning gets a little freaky. Paul appreciates the peculiarity of its star’s process. The film has a droll, deadpan sense of humour as it observes the simp/domme relationship with a sense that, hey, whatever works. I
In one scene, Paul dons a unicorn mask and hoof gloves while a domme, dressed in Mrs. Clause-style leathery BDSM lingerie, rides Santa’s new “reindeer” with a crop. In another, a domme puts pressure on Paul’s chest while inquiring about his weight loss progress. One might laugh with mild discomfort, but the normalcy with which Paul shares his story, both through the documentary and social media, destigmatizes conversations about mental health and kinks alike. Côté’s film refreshingly does the same.
The centrepiece of the film, however, invites a hearty laugh no matter what tickles your fancy. Paul enjoys being in on the joke, as noted by the film’s prolonged encounter with another social media star. She performs under the moniker of the “donut slut” and teases Paul’s love for sweets into submission. Boston cream drips onto her breast as she fondles her nether regions with other parts of the pastry to make a Boston creampie. Her feet caress a maple bacon donut as Paul dutifully watches from the sides. There’s a mess to clean-up afterwards, for sure. But these engagements help Paul build self-confidence one tidy at a time.
Paul features some of Côté’s signature hybrid elements too, which blur seamlessly with the vérité footage. “Anna,” for example, is one of Côté’s friends, while a spank-fest in the forest is a staged finale. The film considers the elements of performance entailed in becoming a social media star, but also the journey of finding a “role” for oneself that social media provides. Côté’s film therefore provides one of the few intelligent windows into the life and mind of a social media influencer to date. Festivals frequently abound with portraits of TikTokers and influencers who peddle their numbers in exchange for free goods, but this character study offers a rare case in which the user seems more like a fully-rounded human being than a paid shill. Paul admittedly hopes that his growing numbers mean that he can one day land a sponsor, but the integrity behind his mission resonates.
Paul illustrates how, much like being a simp, being an influencer affords people outlets through which they can improve their mental health. Paul finds conversations and community that he can’t access in real life. However, Côté illustrates the limits of online connection as Paul’s rising numbers bring their own repercussions to his anxiety. More eyeballs mean more pressure. They also signify the increasing public eye on Paul’s private life. He makes some money as an accountant and his parents keep trying to fix him up with a nice subservient Chinese girl, but @cleaningsimppaul’s rise has obvious implications when a fetish lies just a Google search away. At the same time, though, that kink might be just the draw for the right messy lady. This refreshingly judgment free film asks us who are we to criticise, anyway, when cleaning leads to such a fresh start.
