Sharing a space with another person and living amongst each other’s clutter is the norm in most major Canadian cities. And though it may be common, discussing the nitty-gritty details of finding the right roommate isn’t a conversation that happens much beyond friends. For Canadian writer, producer and filmmaker Halima Elkhatabi, however, the concept was intriguing.
In her new documentary, Living Together, the documentarian follows about a dozen subjects through a series of interviews to find the perfect roommate — all while a national housing crisis roils in the background. The doc premiered at TIFF last month and will be available to watch online next year.
To make the film, Elkhatabi messaged countless Montrealers who were seeking roommates. The process began on Facebook Marketplace, where she would find those searching for roommates, message them and ask if they planned to interview applicants and if her crew could film those interviews.
The subjects’ personal spaces became the sets. Originally, Elkhatabi wanted to use the kitchen as the main setting for each scene. “In Quebec, everybody’s always in the kitchen,” she says. “Never in the living room, always the kitchen — cooking, talking.”
After entering their spaces, however, the idea shifted. “We took time to choose the place where they could be very comfortable,” the filmmaker explains, “because I wanted them to forget me. I’m not here.” From the tweed loveseat to the white mesh curtains, the sets were decorated with personal details. Viewers get to know the subject in two different ways: from their stories as well as their surroundings.
“First I was [thinking], ‘I want my beautiful picture,’ but I realized they needed to talk and feel good,” she says. “We had to find something in between my needs as a cinematographer and as a documentarist. I need them to feel first comfortable and good to talk to allow us to enter their intimacy and vulnerability … For the first 20 minutes, they feel you, but after that, they just forget you.”
Elkhatabi’s documentary captures connection through dialogue between strangers. The audience begins to learn about the potential roommate at the same time as the searcher, as though they are looking for a roommate themselves.
The search is humorous at times — the slight jokes and awkward pauses when a potential roommate is clearly an unfit match yet continues the roommate interview anyway. But there are also tender moments, with openness about personal issues, such as mental health, neurodivergence, eating disorders and financial strains, to name a few.
“The girl with the neurodivergent condition, she was so direct, honest and comfortable with that, I was so surprised,” Elkhatabi says. When we often hear from parents and experts, it’s refreshing to listen to neurodivergent adults discuss what they need in a living situation, she adds.
Tackling intimate questions about lifestyle in order to find a connection, these conversations expose each subject’s raw self.
“It was all about trust,” the filmmaker says. “After I found people, I’d speak to them on the phone to explain the project. Once there is trust, it was not that difficult to enter intimacy. It was surprising: I thought there would be more hesitancy. It’s a community-driven film.”
Intentionally or not, Elkhatabi shows the audience the absurdity of the process: You’re picking a stranger off Facebook to share your intimate space with. You will learn each other’s boundaries, but there’s no guarantee you will come to know each other more personally. Some roommates will build stronger relationships, and others will simply remain roommates.
Living Together comes at a time when a sense of connection is yearned for. It’s a “portrait of a generation,” Elkhatabi says.
The film is heavily inspired by the work of French documentarian and photographer Raymond Depardon, whose ethos has been to capture life in motion through our everyday conversations and affairs — much like what Elkhatabi has done with Living Together.
She recalls a documentary where Depardon interviews regular people in a busy city. “What do people talk about? [At the time,] there was a lot of crisis in France, but people were talking [about] family, love, work, but not the crisis itself. I saw the same thing for my documentary: I thought they would talk about rent and landlords, but not so much.”
Elkhatabi says that because of this, the documentary is, in many ways, reflective of every big city — how, as humans, we all seek similar things. “In Paris, in Berlin, in Toronto, it’s a very city central [story].”
Of course, the heavy presence of the housing crisis lingers in the homes of each subject.
Montreal isn’t an exception to the rising costs of living despite being known for its relative affordability. Earlier this year, the province saw lease transfers practically halted with the passing of Bill 31. Lease transfers — which allow tenants to transfer their lease to another person without amendment to the agreement — were an essential mechanism that kept rents low in Montreal. Under the new law, however, landlords hold the power to decide whether a lease transfer can happen or not, for any given reason.
Even though the documentary was birthed from the ongoing housing crisis, it isn’t the focal point. Instead, Living Together focuses primarily on human connection. “It’s good to see real connections, especially with the crisis and inflation,” Elkhatabi says. “There’s still the need to connect. At the end [of filming], I was surprised that it was a feel-good movie. Yes, it’s still deep and profound, but they laugh. They laugh about themselves. There’s a lot of love.”
From a post-lockdown lens, the documentary provides an atmosphere for building relationships beyond online conversation. Watching people talk to each other for an hour and a half felt like it scratched an itch. With the simplicity of casual dialogue — verging at times toward oversharing — there’s something joyous in learning about the lives of others. Even for those who don’t make the cut and aren’t selected, that joy remains.
The potential roommates share their life stories, in many cases, never to see each other again. While it may sound melancholic or even unfulfilling, there’s something cathartic, too — seeking comfort in a connection in the moment.
After filming this, Elkhatabi says she realizes, “the more you know yourself, the better you can live with people — under a roof and in society in general, living together not only as roommates but also as people, as colleagues, as family.”
