May 28 is Bruce McDonald's birthday. Let's take a moment to celebrate his greatest works

Between 1989 and 1996, Canadian director Bruce McDonald released a loose trilogy of films about rock and roll, and the road: Roadkill, Highway 61, and Hard Core Logo. To celebrate Bruce McDonald's birthday, I'd like to celebrate them. 

To be clear, they are not a trilogy in any traditional sense. There is no through plotline and no characters in common, although the first two both prominently feature Don McKellar and Valerie Buhagiar. They're a trilogy in a strictly thematic sense, in that all three of them are broadly about musicians moving through the Canadian landscape. 

When I was in my early teens, I discovered the first two of these three movies in the suburban Toronto, Rogers Video location by my house,it was like some unknown force had gone inside my head, and made the movies I'd always wanted to see, without even knowing I wanted to see them. They were perfect. When I watched them, it was like someone started a mosh pit in my brain. It was fun and exciting and a little dangerous and violent. Who, I wonder, ordered these? What video store assistant manager was like 'The children of Agincourt need to see Roadkill!'? 

Until then, I was under the distinct impression that it was impossible for Canadian-made media to be anything other than corny. With the major exceptions of Kids in the Hall, because I wasn't a heathen, and Scanners, which I was entirely too young to have watched and gave me nightmares for weeks.

But this was different. These movies were weird and funny and angry. And they were unapologetically from and about here, unlike Kung-Fu: The Legend Continues, in which what was clearly Toronto played some anonymous American city. These movies were like an antidote to cultural cringe. And when Hard Core Logo came out, I had to see it in the theatre. Repeatedly.

Roadkill: Loosely based on a real story

In Roadkill, record label intern Ramona is sent to Northern Ontario to find Children of Paradise, her label's hot new band who have gone AWOL in the middle of their tour. Unable to drive, she hires a stoned cab driver to take her across the province. Along the way, she meets Bruce Shack (McDonald), a documentarian who mostly films roadkill, and Russell (McKellar), a serial killer who hasn't actually killed anyone yet, but is for sure definitely going to, once he figures out how.

Here are four great things about Roadkill:

1. It features an unbelievably awkward cameo from Joey Ramone. (Why does Joey Ramone have a favourite cab driver, and why is that cab driver from Toronto? Is he all the Ramone's favourite cab driver?)
2. Russell's take on serial killing is actually a brilliant and thinly veiled shot at Canada's neglect of it's own entertainment industry: "It's like everything else. There's this colonial attitude that if you wanna make it, you've gotta go down to California or something."
3. It exists. To call this movie low budget is to vastly overstate the size of its budget. If we're being real 
4. It's (again, loosely) based on a real story. Originally, McDonald wanted to make a concert film about up-and-coming Toronto band A Neon Rome, but over the course of the tour, the band's lead singer got disillusioned, became increasingly erratic, and eventually quit. Roadkill was his attempt to pivot after the band imploded.

Highway 61, in which Mr. Skin will trade you a carton of smokes for your soul

Highway 61 is the story of Pokey Jones (McKellar), a small-town barber and would-be jazz musician — how small is the town? He refers to Thunder Bay as "the big city" — whose life is turned upside down when he finds a frozen dead body in his backyard. He meets Jackie Bangs (Buhagiar), who claims the body belongs to her brother, in order to use it to transport stolen drugs over the border. They drive the body into the U.S. and down the titular highway, pursued by Mr. Skin, who is either Satan or believes he is Satan, and claims that the soul that used to reside in said body belongs to him, and he needs to get it out. 

Here are a four great things about Highway 61:

• There isn't a Joey Ramone cameo, but there IS Dead Kennedy's frontman Jello Biafra playing a U.S. border guard.
• People are constantly selling their souls to Mr. Skin for the most mundane things: a carton of smokes, beer, $20 cash.
• Earl Pafko's performance as Mr. Skin is amazing. Forget the horns and hooves, or the sexy Satan of Lucifer. The devil is a sketchy used car salesman.
• It gave us this incredible early '90s jam.

Apparently not all of you have seen Hard Core Logo?

I had just assumed every Canadian had seen Hard Core Logo so many times I didn't need to talk about it, but a recent series of conversations has disabused me of that notion. I think my social group has, historically, mostly consisted of people who've seen Hard Core Logo repeatedly. 

Hard Core Logo is the story of a fictional late '70s/early '80s Vancouver punk band, Hard Core Logo, whose now late 30-something members are convinced by their obnoxious, somewhat damaged lead vocalist to go on a reunion tour through Western Canada. It does not go well. It's based on a book by Michael Turner, which is also very good, and while it doesn't have Don McKellar or Valerie Buhagiar in it, it does have Headstones frontman Hugh Dillon and Callum Keith Rennie.

Here's some things that are great about it:

• Hugh Dillon is incredible as Logo singer Joe Dick. He's terrible and pitiable and abrasive and mean spirited and you can't take your eyes off him. This really cemented his move from singer to actor. 
• Callum Keith Rennie's performance as guitarist Billy Tallent was so good that it inspired a bunch of guys from Mississauga to start band about it.
• Will the aging punk rock guitarist sell out/make a reasonable choice and go join a radio-friendly mainstream alternative rock band is the most '90s subplot of all-time and feels really compelling.
• Having the soundtrack be "A Tribute to Hard Core Logo," with various Canadian punk and indie rock bands (and also L.A. legend's Fishbone) "covering" the fictional band's music is a super clever move. This contribution from Vancouver power-pop outfit Cub was particularly great:

Bruce McDonald opened my eyes to a whole universe of Canadian film. He absolutely made me the sort of person who forced people to watch a lot of things starring Don McKellar in university. Hell, in some not so small way, these three movies set me on the path to becoming a culture writer and having this job that I have right now. And I know I'm not alone in this. There are tons of weirdos across Canada who were to some degree, encouraged to make poor career choices because they saw Bruce McDonald making weird art in this country and seemingly not starving.

So thanks, Bruce. You were an inspiration to us all, and happy birthday.