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Vidéo Femmes: Fragments of a Feminist Legacy (1973-1993)

By Julia Minne with the collaboration of Nicole Giguère, Johanne Fournier, Lynda Roy, Helen Doyle, Lise Bonenfant, Hélène Roy, Nathalie Roy, Lucie Godbout, Ginette Gosselin, Sylvie Tremblay and Spira

January 2024

L’équipe de Vidéo Femmes dans les escaliers du Musée de la Civilisation à Québec. Circa 1988. Photo (possiblement) de Louise Bilodeau. Collection personnelle de Nicole Giguère.

This overview of the first twenty years of the Vidéo Femmes collective was produced by Julia Minne, a doctoral student in communications at the Université de Montréal and in arts and artistic sciences at the Paris Panthéon-Sorbonne, in collaboration with the Cinémathèque québécoise and Spira. Through archival research and meetings with the founding members of the collective, we have drawn up a portrait of this unique collective, which bears witness to the beginnings of a new form of cinematic and feminist expression in Quebec. Taking the form of a cross-generational choral narrative between first-generation female directors, this special project highlights the important artistic and historical contributions of Vidéo Femmes and questions the lack of representation of this cinematographic and feminist legacy in our memory institutions.

Founded in 1973 by Hélène Roy, Nicole Giguère, and Helen Doyle, Vidéo Femmes was one of the first feminist video production and distribution centres in Quebec. Until its 2015 merger with the distributor formerly known as Spirafilm, the collective established itself as a leading reference on the Quebec feminist arts scene, including in the distribution sector, through its international Festival des Filles des Vues.

Explore the vibrant personal accounts of the female directors who founded and developed the collective, thanks to a selection of never-before-seen archives, sound recordings, and filmed interviews. This abundantly well-documented special project features interviews, archives, links to view the films free of charge, texts introducing each film, photos, posters, magazine articles, references to further information, and much more.

This special project was produced with the collaboration of Nicole Giguère, Johanne Fournier, Lynda Roy, Lise Bonenfant, Helen Doyle, Hélène Roy, Nathalie Roy, Sylvie Tremblay, Ginette Gosselin, Lucie Godbout, David Fortin, Nicolas Dulac, Elisabeth Meunier, Marina Gallet, Sébastien Merckling, and Robin Miranda Das Neves.

Vidéo Femmes: Rethinking Quebec’s Audiovisual Heritage, by Nicolas Dulac

In March 2022, the Spira distribution company donated its extensive Vidéo Femmes collection, comprising 350 titles produced between 1973 and 2014 and preserved on nearly one thousand cassettes and magnetic tapes, to the Cinémathèque québécoise. Although some of the items had been placed in the Cinémathèque’s reserves in the early 1990s, the collection had never received the visibility and recognition it rightly deserves. One of the objectives of this special project—the result of a collaboration between researcher Julia Minne, the directors of Vidéo Femmes, and the Cinémathèque—is to remedy this situation and shed new light on the importance of this feminist collective.

In order to tell the untold tale, Julia Minne opted for the interview format, which is perfectly suited to the approach and character of Vidéo Femmes. By letting those who worked with the organization over its forty-year existence recount their own experiences, this special project echoes one of the central tenets of the women’s films: giving women a voice and bearing witness to their personal experiences. In this spirit, the films of Vidéo Femmes did not reject the television model with which video was commonly associated at the time (distinguishing themselves in that respect from certain pioneering works of feminist video, such as those by Les Insoumuses or Valie Export, for example), but rather, embraced its social reach and community-wide accessibility. Not surprisingly, many of the filmmakers had their roots in community radio and television, from which they retained a penchant for reporting and vox populi, in their early films, at least. But in contrast to the cold detachment of televised news, these films generated genuine intimacy and created a rapport that led to sometimes deeply moving personal stories, such as those found in Chaperons rouges, C’est pas le pays des merveilles, and Juste pour me calmer, for example.

This proximity also testifies to the filmmakers’ on-the-ground work with women who faced problems and injustices that are all too often ignored, including depression, domestic violence, bullying, alcoholism, and so on. One of the findings of the video entitled Bilan du stage franco-québécois “Féminisme et communications” is that the actions of Vidéo Femmes did not stem from theoretical reflection, as was the case with their French compatriots, but rather from a concrete need, a grassroots reality (in women’s shelters, sexual assault centres, and family environments, for example). Bringing women’s voices to the fore and exposing the situations they faced were in themselves militant gestures in a media landscape that all too often concealed those realities. Indeed, upon reading the notes in this special file, we can have no doubt that these were women of action! Not only did they make films, but they also organized festivals, set up a distribution network, offered training courses to female videographers, and organized regional road shows. The longevity of Vidéo Femmes and the scope of its productions attest to the commitment and resilience of all those involved, despite the social, financial, and bureaucratic constraints that beset them along the way.

It would be wrong, however, to reduce Vidéo Femmes’ work to a purely social-interventionist style, devoid of any aesthetic appeal. From the outset, art was an integral aspect of the very essence of their films. Whether through theatre, performance art, music, dance, or poetry, art continually permeated the social discourse conveyed by the films, demonstrating how artistic expression is able to question the female condition and the socio-political structures in which it is ensconced. The young filmmakers also soon began experimenting with video equipment, which was still largely repudiated by the “legitimate” film industry of the time. Some of the works became progressively more daring, both in terms of form and subject matter, exploring docufiction (Poing final), collage film (Histoire infâme, Les Mots/Maux du silence), and even experimental film (Tatouages de la mémoire, Comme une tempête). Although certain effects such as saturation, chroma keying, and superimposition are now inextricably linked with a certain “retro” aesthetic typical of 1980s video, they nonetheless denote great creative freedom and a playful, inventive way of using the video medium. For example, the “lettrist” interlude in Demain la cinquantaine, which conveys the restlessness and anxieties of a woman in the throes of menopause, is still astonishing in its originality and intensity.

Ultimately, this special project provides us with the opportunity to reflect on the status of video and feminist works in our own collections and, more broadly, in heritage institutions in general. The “Vidéo Femmes: Archiving and Remediation” round table and the work of artist kimura byol invite us to question the Cinémathèque’s acquisition and distribution policies and its relationship to a form of production long considered inferior and extraneous to the artistic aspirations of “real” cinema. In 1975, when Helen Doyle and Nicole Giguère shot their first video at the Women’s Show, the video format was still intimately linked to television and the world of communications, not to that of cinema. It was seen as a necessary evil for the dissemination of cinema on the small screen, but film remained the only medium worthy of cinematographic work. At that time, the Cinémathèque was barely 10 years old and had just inaugurated its conservation centre in Boucherville. Its legitimacy was largely based on the acquisition of Quebec films and masterpieces of world cinema, as well as the projection of those works onto the big screen. Although video projection has existed in various forms since the 1930s, it did not become commonplace until the late 1980s, its widespread use having previously been hampered by low resolution and high costs. Video production thus found itself in the “blind spot” of traditional filmmaking, and instead developed in parallel networks, such as artist-run centres and social organizations.

But the position of the Cinémathèque gradually changed in the 2000s—admittedly not without some resistance, as is evidenced by some of the texts quoted in this project—as the explosion of media arts prompted us to revisit the history of video, particularly in Quebec. The 2011 appointment of Jean Gagnon as director of collections (himself a product of the video art milieu), the regular programming of video works in the Fernand-Seguin room, and the acquisition of the important collection of the Daniel-Langlois Foundation are all evidence of a change in attitude toward the historical impact of video and its legitimacy within the Cinémathèque’s collections. It is also worth mentioning the many warnings issued by the archive community about the deterioration of magnetic tapes, which are increasingly prone to sticky-shed syndrome, and the obsolescence of the playback equipment. The rapid deterioration of video supports prompted archival institutions, including the Cinémathèque québécoise, to take action and invest in this neglected audiovisual heritage, to ensure its survival and its continued enhancement.

This change in attitude must now be reflected in concrete action, which poses a number of challenges for an institution whose expertise has been built around film. In this respect, Julia Minne’s work at the Cinémathèque has laid the foundations for reflection on the conditions under which heritage media can be made visible, and it is now our duty to identify and revisit certain video collections that are capable of shedding light on certain communities and marginalized productions. This special project, like our project on the PRIM Centre in 2021, demonstrates the Cinémathèque’s nascent desire to promote its video holdings and flesh out the history of audiovisual production in Quebec. Thanks to the support of Heritage Canada’s Museums Assistance Program, this initiative has led to the digitization of dozens of items from the Fonds Vidéo Femmes, as well as of hundreds of archival documents that help contextualize this remarkable body of work and grasp its boldness and relevance. I therefore invite you to discover this rich heritage in the company of those who forged the history of feminist video in Quebec and generously contributed to the creation of this special project: Lise Bonenfant, Helen Doyle, Johanne Fournier, Nicole Giguère, Lucie Godbout, Ginette Gosselin, Hélène Roy, Lynda Roy, Nathalie Roy, and Sylvie Tremblay.

Letter to Vidéo Femmes, by Julia Minne

Dear ladies,

How can I possibly succeed in accurately describing the time I’ve spent with you, listening to your moving accounts of decades of personal and collective engagement? And yet I must attempt to recount the adventure we have shared, knowing that my narrative will be both subjective and incomplete. And in a way, I enjoy the idea of playing with fragments of history, to both unite and amplify our voices. We created this special project together, to shed light on the early years of the great collective of women filmmakers that you nurtured for over four decades, and to restore it to its significant place in the history of film production in Quebec. Through your collective works, you bore witness to a social movement and to the views of women, which were often ignored by the media of the time.

From the 1970s onward, the video camera became your preferred medium for creating freely, without the hindrances or judgements of your male colleagues, who largely dominated the film sets. Your early movies reflect the effervescent aspirations and debates surrounding feminism and social injustice that were emerging at a time when public advocacy of those topics was often scorned. As a space for creative and political experimentation, Vidéo Femmes was for many of you a refuge and a shelter from the institutions of the time. Delving into your work means discovering and sharing the recollections—both personal and contentious—of a generation of women in search of freedom and justice. To me, providing a space for them to be viewed once again was an absolute necessity.

As I explored your crates of archives, I learned that a fateful meeting between Nicole Giguère, Helen Doyle, and Hélène Roy in Quebec City in 1973 led to the emergence of one of the first feminist video production and distribution centres in Quebec, and how it quickly became a professional springboard for many female directors. As I read the pamphlets and letters you wrote over the years, I felt your passion for cinema and your frustration with the sexism that surrounded you. Your words resonated with me, giving me an urgent conviction that your legacy could not continue to go unnoticed. How could I turn a blind eye to the immense artistic and political creativity of your works? How could any of us ignore the hundreds of stories and personal accounts of the women you worked with over the years? How could we remain indifferent to your more than fifteen-year commitment to showing films by women from all over the world at the Festival International des Filles des Vues?

Taking the form of a cross-generational choral narrative, this special project has given us the opportunity to reconstruct fragments of lives that were entirely dedicated to film production and the development of a support network focused on recognizing new female imaginations in the world of filmmaking. Despite the complications of the pandemic and the geographical distance that separated me from some of you, I recorded your stories and then, collectively, we rewrote, trimmed down, and reassembled the most memorable moments of the first twenty years of your collective. By placing the focus on your own personal accounts, I hoped to move away from the tradition of neutral, impassive historical narratives. The story has been divided into three parts, to give way to a new approach to collectively reclaiming the story’s narrative and to unveil your achievements in more depth.

To complement your myriad adventures, I wished to adorn your words with images, posters, photographs, excerpts, and archives, and to convey the affection I feel for your stories. You can therefore surely imagine how enthusiastic I have been to make part of this heritage of committed women and their cinematic counter-culture—which I still find largely under-represented in university film studies—available to the public.

I also wished to use this project as an opportunity to collaborate with the Cinémathèque to create a space for sharing and reflection, in order to address the absence and invisibility of feminist archives in our memory repositories. My role as an employee and my training as a researcher have enabled me to take a closer, more nuanced look at the day-to-day realities of heritage institutions and their involvement in shaping our collective memories. But more than anything, I benefited from the invaluable privilege of working with a dedicated team, whose support was paramount to the success of this project.

Through our perseverance and collective efforts, we succeeded in resurrecting a body of feminist cinematic works that are rich in formal ingenuity and in social and political exploration.

Finally, dear ladies, I can never thank you enough for your immense generosity and your precious friendship. We chose to conclude the timeline of this project in 1993, a year that marked an important transition in your lives, leaving room for a new generation of filmmakers to express themselves. The early years thus represent a pivotal and decisive period in the history of Vidéo Femmes, and invite us to rediscover the struggles and ideals of an era that we must continually revive and revisit in a new light. In the hope that this project will serve as an inspiration for other stories that will lead to new interpretations and new optimism.

I remain sincerely yours,

Julia

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