Lies My Father Told Me

In the cramped streets of a 1920s Montreal Jewish ghetto, a six‑year‑old boy learns the world through the rhythm of horse hooves and the murmurs of distant prayers. The city is a patchwork of bustling markets, narrow stairwells, and the soft glow of Sabbath candles, each corner humming with the hopes and hardships of its tight‑knit community. From this rich tapestry, David watches adults juggle ambition and survival, while his own imagination turns ordinary moments into quiet adventures.

At the heart of his small universe sits his grandfather, a rag‑and‑bone man who hauls a weathered wagon and a loyal horse through the neighborhood. Zaida is a scholar of the Talmud, his gentle humor and steady cadence offering a sanctuary from the louder urgencies of adult life. Across the yard, Harry, David’s father, pursues entrepreneurial dreams that clash with the family’s modest means and cultural expectations, creating a restless undercurrent beneath the household’s affection. Annie, his mother, weaves care and resilience into the daily routine, grounding the family amid the swirl of external pressures.

The film breathes a tone that balances melancholy with a tender, almost wistful humor. Everyday scenes—Sunday rides, neighborly banter, the scent of fresh bread—are rendered with a texture that feels both intimate and universal, hinting at the fragile line between security and uncertainty. The world feels lived‑in, its streets echoing with stories of past generations while bearing the weight of future possibilities.

Through David’s eyes, the audience is invited to glimpse a coming‑of‑age tale that is as much about the quiet bonds of family as it is about the larger forces shaping a community on the brink of change. The story lingers in the spaces between laughter and longing, promising a gentle exploration of memory, identity, and the subtle ways we anchor ourselves in the midst of an ever‑shifting world.

Last Updated: December 04, 2025 at 18:14