Deconstructing Ex-Centris

>> Six months after it opened, opinions on Daniel Langlois' building still run strong. Who's right? The Mirror investigates

by PHILIP PREVILLE

About three weeks ago, the debate over the architectural merits of Ex-Centris--the art-film/multimedia centre designed and built by local new-technologies insta-millionaire Daniel Langlois--took a nasty turn. One of the building's detractors, fed up with idle conversation about the building, decided to scrawl his opinion on the wall of the men's bathroom.

"This place is a Nazi heaven," read the tag.

Though the message may seem harsh, it was just the latest salvo in a debate that's running just as strong today as it did when Ex-Centris opened on June 1 of this year. Designed by Langlois himself in collaboration with architect Andre Riopel and built at a cost of $35 million, Ex-Centris is unquestionably a controversial building. So much so that everyone who walks through its doors has an opinion about it.

No one disputes the fact that Ex-Centris is an important development, a valued addition to cultural life on the Main courtesy of Langlois and his deep pockets. They just disagree on whether the building sucks or not. "It's similar to the Georges Pompidou centre in that respect," says McGill architecture professor Peter Sijpkes. "The building speaks to you from the minute you walk in. And it makes such a strong statement, you have no choice but to talk about architecture. It's the most obvious and compelling topic of conversation."

But while it's one thing to have an opinion about the building (it's a piece of public art, after all), Ex-Centris has also transformed its patrons into instant design critics. All of a sudden everyone's an expert on architectural movements through the ages: phrases such as "postmodern trappings" and "fascist design" are being bandied about to add the weight of wisdom to personal opinions.

The Mirror asked a few "real" experts to weigh in on the building's merits. Readers are welcome to memorize some of the opinions below and pass them off as their own during their next poseur routine over coffee at Cafe Melies.

Smells of money, looks like a bank

"What bothers me is the fact that the building's design doesn't fit with its ultimate raison d'etre," says architect Stephane Pratte, a partner with the firm In Situ--the company that designed the interior of the award-winning Discreet Logic building in the Old Port district. "This place is supposed to be counter-cultural. It shows auteur films and avant-garde performances, it houses non-profit organizations upstairs. Yet the building's design is totally corporate. Just compare the old Cafe Melies to the new one--it's not the same atmosphere at all."

McGill prof Sijpkes, while a proponent of the building, tends to agree with Pratte on that point. "This is a multimedia centre, these people work with light rays and electronic impulses," says Sijpkes. "Yet from the outside, it's very conservative. The grey stone is suited to places like banks. Had I been designing it, I would have chosen to make the building look light as air. But I gather they wanted to give the building weight and a lasting presence, and the stone accomplishes that."

But Wade Eide, an architect with the local firm Atelier Braq, sees a united motif running through the building's design. "It's a cinema, and there are cinematic references everywhere," says Eide, who brings a fresh eye to the building--prior to visiting the site with the Mirror, he'd never been inside before.

Devil in the details

"The numbers on the floor, the filmreel bannisters, references to Star Trek and Fritz Lang's Metropolis in the cafe--they all make a statement," says Eide. "To me, the building is playful."

Pratte, who's not a fan of the building, talks as though those things get on his nerves. "The wheels, the false rivets, the box office, all make the building technophiliac," he says. "It's preoccupied with the image of technology, not with technology's usefulness. It's just ornamentation."

Eide doesn't disagree, but instead asks, "Why does that make people uncomfortable? It's not as though the building makes people feel small, which I suppose is what some people would mean by 'fascist architecture.'" (The term "fascist," incidentally, was rejected by all three architects.)

Sijpkes knows exactly why the bells and whistles make him uncomfortable. "I'm a Dutch Calvinist," he says. "Thrift is in my blood. I look at that staircase and I think it's beautiful. But I also think you could have cut its budget by 25 per cent and it would be just as beautiful.

"But that's a matter of personal taste. If I step back and try to be objective, what do I think? I've seen other buildings that are very ornamental, where every corner is decorated, and all the elements come together in perfect harmony. I don't think this building is in perfect harmony, but it still sings a damn good tune."


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