The Latin word for "living in the forest," or, "forest worshipper," Jean-Philippe Marquis' Silvicola is an artfully arranged series of snapshots composing a larger picture of Vancouver Island's legendary woods, but also of BC's unrelenting logging industry, and of the tenacious individuals caught in between, trying to reconcile the two. These subjects remain steadfast for a variety of reasons, from their cross-generational obligations, to their business ambitions, and a decent variety of others in between. While all the individuals highlighted acknowledge and respect the need for logging, all offer a lament for the irreparable damage the industry has done—BC has now less than 3% of its big tree old growth remaining, according to David Quigg of Sierra Club BC—and all express a wariness for the next 10-20 years, if the clearcutting is not tempered. 

We even hear this sentiment expressed by someone employed in the industry, a younger man tasked with surveying and tree-tagging the areas to be levelled. His unique perspective gives him plenty to bemoan, and he acknowledges this, but he doesn’t use his air time to point or wag any fingers; rather, Marquis has him share what feel like zen affirmations. Despite the grim nature of this man’s job, he finds a powerful personal fulfillment in it--the way he sees it, he gets to be one of the last people to witness these ancient forests before they are felled. The bittersweet privilege, he remarks, has deepened his reverence for old growth, for its eons-spanning role in the larger gift of life that is Mother Earth. Even on his days off, he finds himself compelled back into BC's forests.

In many ways, this subject embodies the philosophy and structuring of Marquis’ film. Silvicola is less a probing and argumentative documentary than it is a visual essay or a tone poem, and it’s as committed to its task of illuminating people’s stories as it is to wandering off to take in the scenery. Marquis respects the work that needs doing—all the types of work, Marquis himself has even worked as a tree planter—but he’s also intensely art-minded, and clearly wants to do a similar service to his topic’s stories as he does his project’s aesthetics. Working essentially as a one-man team, we regularly observe him trailing close-behind his tree planter and feller subjects, clambering over severed branches and up hillsides. Such determinedness speaks to Marquis' ten years of experience in the industry, but it also affords him his film's striking close-ups, those capturing the intimate specificities of these "off-the-grid," often dangerous labours. 

On the other hand, Silvicola also features moments when Marquis zooms way out, and captures with keen compositional eye BC's dramatic vistas, their verdancy and their teeming qualities; their charred wounds and their shredded detritus. Marquis lets many of these shots breathe, and removes voiceovers and other narrations, so as to let the forests speak for themselves, speak to us. There is so much that is calming about Marquis’ work, it almost feels reminiscent of a Weerasethakul film at times. 

That said, Silvicola isn’t a film to engage with passively. In addition to removing narration, Marquis also removes on-screen text, and this leaves you to infer who the represented individuals are, and what it is they’re doing (when they aren’t directly explaining so). The film isn’t confrontational, but its quietness and its meditative qualities allow you space to reflect on your own feelings. Furthermore, the dilemmas expressed in the film feel more personal than they do big-picture. This asks you to look internally, at your own moral compass, to determine where as an individual you stand. If the film does have its own “position”, it’s that our remaining forests should be preserved, so as to benefit everyone from casual nature walk enjoyers, to the logging industry at large. 

“Green is good” might not seem like an inherently political viewpoint to most of us, but there are others who would deem it so, others who are so removed from or blind to the woods that they deny their benefit, or delude themselves into thinking they’re not at risk. Silvicola might not offer any sort of political statement to shake these parties, but it’s incredibly compelling in the way it immerses audiences in these woods, in the way it articulates the paths its inhabitants have taken. Observing these forest paths, we find the grounds to navigate towards our own conclusions. It helps that the surroundings are so inspiring, too, even if we may one day have to confront a world where they no longer exist.