Only Guy Maddin would compose a surreal documentary (or more aptly, "docu-fantasia" as he calls it) on Winnipeg that is all set in the course of a narrated goodbye to the city. Forget odes and technicolor platitudes -- My Winnipeg is a self-mocking look at the cold city that lies in the heart of Canada. But it is one told with warmth -- a film that makes what would seem like a mundane documentary into a funny, charming, relatable and interesting exploration of Maddin's home.

"Winnipeg... Winnipeg... Winnipeg... Snowing, sleepwalking Winnipeg," Maddin describes, before likening the city's famous forks (the conjunction of the Assiniboine and Red rivers) to his mother's bare crotch (the lap). If you've seen his work before, you can probably imagine how this manifests on the screen. But this is only the beginning. In the shadows, mist and visual darkness, Maddin presents a laugh-heavy Winnipeg, whether you're a resident who recognizes the places on-screen and recalls the incidents he re-stages, or just someone who follows his warped and wonderful storytelling style.