Tire-toi une bûche

A film by Béatrice Richer

logline / synopsis

Returning to her estranged rural hometown after a life-altering event, Laurie struggles to find her place in the world. With the unwavering support & guidance of her mother, she is forced to confront grief and everything it reshapes within her.

Cast & Crew:

Cast:
Laurie Caron ... Laurie
Joelle Lalonde... Sylvie
Jennifer Hennessy... Madame Tessier
Delphine Roy ... Young Laurie

Crew:
Writer /Director : Béatrice Richer
Producer: Béatrice Richer, Josée Massie
Executive Producer: Lenz Films
Executive Producers: Stéphane Richer, Mitar Veselinovic, Danilo Veselinovic
Director of Photography: Jelan Maxwell
1st AC: Tara Muhlberghuber
2nd AC: Jacob Lavoie
Production Sound Mixer: Charles Paquin
Script Supervisor: Josée Massie
Editor: Béatrice Richer
Post-production Sound Mixer & Sound Designer: David Moreau
Post-production dialogue preparation technician: Charles Paquin
Music Composer: Darcy Adam
Colorist: Jelan Maxwell

Featuring Music by Les Soeurs Boulay

Official film poster:

STILLS

directors statement

This film started with me being forced to write a script for my graduation project, easily the worst way to begin something creative. My mentor told me what they all tell you: “Write what you know.” Later that day, I was sitting in the living room talking with my mom. I glanced at her—suddenly, that was it.

My mom isn’t simply a parent: she’s my best friend, my soulmate, and the woman I admire most in life. Not a single bad bone in her body. Our bond has always been my guidance in life. Obviously, she annoys me, and I annoy her back. She snaps me into place, reminds me she’s my mother, but that’s part of it. It’s what defines unconditional love. We’re inseparable, tied at the hip. 

Multiple mother-daughter films I admire : Lady Bird, I Killed My Mother, Everything Everywhere All at Once—focus on conflict. They’re messy, envious, adversarial. That’s real for many, but that couldn’t be further from my reality. I wanted to showcase a mother-daughter bond grounded in steady love and support, gentle care, shared mischief, and friendship. At its best, filmmaking allows multiple truths to coexist. This is my contribution. 

There’s a moment when you grow up, not out of obliviscence, but through developing an adult consciousness, when you suddenly realize your mom isn’t just that, but a full person—with flaws, vulnerabilities and dreams. The shift is subtle, disorienting. I remember her saying she wouldn’t have left an impact in this world, that she’s “just a mom”. I wasn’t sure what shattered me more: that society made women believe motherhood alone doesn’t carry enough value, or that she believed it. In that moment, I didn’t see my mother, but a woman opening up about her deepest insecurities. Understandably, there’s desire to leave a mark beyond motherhood, to reach beyond a single definition of yourself. I couldn’t see myself living without her. The one who truly sees me, who’s made countless sacrifices so I can look back and see how far I’ve come.

That anxiety became the seed for Tire-toi une bûche: What would I do if my mom was no longer there?

The film sits in that question. It lives in it. Laurie, our main character, is left asking: was her mother truly happy? Did she feel seen? Did she know she was enough?

This film became a love letter to my mom, to answer her doubts.

Josée Massie, Béatrice’s mom, on set of TTUB.

Grief is the undercurrent of this film. It starts with death, but it’s not about death. It’s about what remains when a bond so deep is gone. It’s about the absence of the one person who sees you fully. What’s left unsaid, and the weight of loving someone so much you don’t know where they end and you begin. Now they’re gone, but they’re everywhere and nowhere at once.

Nostalgia laces everything in this film, I might even be its synonym. That same duality lives in Laurie. She returns home not just for closure. Nostalgia becomes both comfort and weight—it can drown you if you’re not careful, a way of slipping into the past instead of facing the present. A bittersweet ache I recognize in myself, and bring into the film. When I doubt myself, uncertain of life, I always return to my roots : the countryside, my family, the cottage. It brings me back in touch with myself. In the familiarity of nature, I find reassurance and a quiet sense of clarity. Exactly what Laurie is in need. It’s not just nostalgia, it’s a return to something grounding.

It felt important to tell a story of womanhood. Maybe your Laurie isn’t grieving a mother, maybe you aren’t grieving anyone at all, but for twenty minutes, you can still feel the weight of this bond. The longing to be seen, the ache of absence, the gratitude for deep connection—that’s universal.

Finally, this is a Québécois story, where language is culture and identity. The film carries traces of our roots throughout, obvious things like poutine, the places, the scenery, even little line references. It’s about preserving that essence. I’ve come to see the poetry in Québécois: how we speak in shortcuts, with sayings that carry whole histories. Sometimes three words say everything, other times, it’s what we don’t say that speaks the loudest. I’m convinced Québécois can hold some of the strongest writing, layered with subtext that deserves to be seen. Filmmakers like Vallée, Dolan, and Villeneuve have shared Quebec with the world. This is my way of building on that.

Project Title:

Tire-toi une bûche

STILLS

directors statement

Béatrice richer