As a film, Guy Maddin's My Winnipeg, is a semi-stream of consciousness montage of images, stories and outright lies presented as a documentary tribute to Maddin's hometown. To see the script written out in book form, with footnotes by the author accounting for more than half the script's text, is more like reading an epic (or mock-epic) poem than re-reading a screenplay. Which seems odd somehow; I mean, by definition, a companion book should not be able to stand on its own merits.
