As patrons in a rural diner enjoy their breakfasts, slathering slices of toast with butter and gulping down platters of pancakes, an acoustic guitar strums in the background. The guitar’s owners, Rae Spoon, spins around on their pedestal at the bar to face the crowd. With guitar in tow they stand up from their own breakfast and begin strolling through the rows of tables, lightly exuding a folksy song to the fourth wall. When finished, Spoon sits back down to finish their meal and the other patrons continue to enjoy theirs, nearly oblivious as to what’s happened.
In a way, this opening act is very much a parallel to Spoon’s own journey; a need to be recognized and respected as human beings, yet not be so publicized as to be made into a pariah. It’s a teetering thematic balance that Spoon achieves through their music, an act that is not easy but one they find very rewarding. As director Chelsea McMullan’s “My Prairie Home” shows, art is not only a mode of self-expression or an exploration of identity, but also a way of bridging gaps between the individual and society.
Through amusing little dioramas and musical numbers Spoon describes their upbringing on the plains of Manitoba, arguing that place is as much a molder of home and identity as any other aspect of being. Designated female at birth and born into a dysfunctional family of Evangelicals, Spoon soon realized they didn’t fit in. Their father was an abusive schizophrenic and their mother a die-hard Christian, so between neglectful parenting and fears of eternities spent in Hell, the idea of leading a happy family life soon wore thin. Not only that, but they didn’t find the concept of a relationship with a man all that intriguing. As they began to question their sexuality they also started to explore the construct of gender, soon concluding that it was a foolish form of classification and choosing the gender-neutral pronoun “they” for identification. Spoon spends most of the film waxing heavily on the topic and how they utilized their desire of performance as a way to reach out to others and break the ice about their own identity to the public.
In terms of documentaries “My Prairie Home” is pretty standard fare. With the exception of mini music videos by Spoon that feature things from dinosaur skeletons and dancing, and suave anthropomorphic deer sprinkled throughout the narrative, the film is a pretty typical profile piece. What makes it unique is the heartfelt anecdotes that Spoon dishes out as well as the analysis they give on related topics. One minute they’re singing a song about teenage infatuation, the next they’re debating the dangers of dogmatic groupthink or the psychological effects of ostracism.
Spoon’s documented live shows mirror the film’s structure, as they open their act with sorrowful stories of loneliness and leaving home before breaking into an upbeat verse. It’s a marvel that Spoon is able to keep such a serious demeanor when recalling their past hardships, making them all the more admirable for their courage and perseverance. Their soundtrack adds a sense of eccentricity to the narrative, working to keep the audiences’ attention and introduce newcomers to their genre-blending repertoire.
“My Prairie Home” is a story about discovering and accepting who you are, and finding your own path through life. Regardless of where it may take you. As Spoon explains, for one person to claim someone else’s path is incorrect would be a foolish act of governance. Just as their grass-covered homestead cannot lead to only one way of living, life as a whole ends up shaping all of its inhabitants in one way or another. And for Rae Spoon, it’s through their music.
Rating: 7/10