Ten things Paul Gross can’t live without
He writes, directs, produces and stars in Hyena Road, a gritty war flick in theatres this month. Here, 10 things the king of CanCon can’t live without
1 | My buck knife
On my family’s ranch in Alberta, it’s important to always carry a knife. The one I have is indestructible—it can open cans and fix fences. I don’t have much use for it in the city, but I keep it around just in case.
2 | My Andean flute
Decades ago, my wife, Martha, and I climbed Huayna Picchu, a mountain overlooking the ruins of Machu Picchu in Peru. At the top, a man serenaded us with this traditional wooden flute, called a quena. Afterward, he gave it to me. It’s a beautiful instrument, though I can’t really play it.
3 | My sealskin dice
Martha brought them back from Iqaluit, where she’d been working. I use them to give myself excuses. I’ll say, “If I can throw a pair of sixes, I don’t have to write anything today.”
4 | My luchador
He’s powerful—just look at him. And he’s got smashing green tights. I got him (and a bunch more) in Cuernavaca, Mexico, where friends took us to a hilariously fun wrestling match. They’re scattered all over the house.
5 | My Bedouin tents
I’ve got two: this one, which is about the size of a hat, and a matching room-size version in my basement, which is great for naps. They’re the real thing, handcrafted in Cairo’s tent-making district.
6 | My compass
To be honest, I’m not sure how to use it. But I love what it symbolizes: no matter what, I’ll always be able to find my way.
7 | My Shakespearean statue
Martha was playing Ophelia at the Citadel in Edmonton, and I happened across this woodcarving in a gallery there. The name of the piece was Ophelia, so I had to buy it.
8 | My Afghan souvenir
It’s the pass I wore during my trip to Kandahar in 2011, where I was part of a media embed with the Canadian Armed Forces. The footage we shot there became the inspiration for Hyena Road. It’s a wildly complex, chaotic place—beautiful in some ways, but harsh.
9 | My dad’s spurs
My father gave me this box years ago, but it was only after he died in 2014 that I discovered what was inside: his equestrian spurs, part of his regimental dress as a lieutenant colonel in Lord Strathcona’s Horse, a tank regiment in the Canadian Army. They make me think of him.
10 | My director’s tool
In the ’90s, a director named Patrick Hasburgh gave me a Mark V viewfinder—that’s the lens-type thing directors use to frame scenes. I’d never directed anything, but he said, “I think you might need this one day.” He was right.
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1 | My buck knife
On my family’s ranch in Alberta, it’s important to always carry a knife. The one I have is indestructible—it can open cans and fix fences. I don’t have much use for it in the city, but I keep it around just in case.
2 | My Andean flute
Decades ago, my wife, Martha, and I climbed Huayna Picchu, a mountain overlooking the ruins of Machu Picchu in Peru. At the top, a man serenaded us with this traditional wooden flute, called a quena. Afterward, he gave it to me. It’s a beautiful instrument, though I can’t really play it.
3 | My sealskin dice
Martha brought them back from Iqaluit, where she’d been working. I use them to give myself excuses. I’ll say, “If I can throw a pair of sixes, I don’t have to write anything today.”
4 | My luchador
He’s powerful—just look at him. And he’s got smashing green tights. I got him (and a bunch more) in Cuernavaca, Mexico, where friends took us to a hilariously fun wrestling match. They’re scattered all over the house.
5 | My Bedouin tents
I’ve got two: this one, which is about the size of a hat, and a matching room-size version in my basement, which is great for naps. They’re the real thing, handcrafted in Cairo’s tent-making district.
6 | My compass
To be honest, I’m not sure how to use it. But I love what it symbolizes: no matter what, I’ll always be able to find my way.
7 | My Shakespearean statue
Martha was playing Ophelia at the Citadel in Edmonton, and I happened across this woodcarving in a gallery there. The name of the piece was Ophelia, so I had to buy it.
8 | My Afghan souvenir
It’s the pass I wore during my trip to Kandahar in 2011, where I was part of a media embed with the Canadian Armed Forces. The footage we shot there became the inspiration for Hyena Road. It’s a wildly complex, chaotic place—beautiful in some ways, but harsh.
9 | My dad’s spurs
My father gave me this box years ago, but it was only after he died in 2014 that I discovered what was inside: his equestrian spurs, part of his regimental dress as a lieutenant colonel in Lord Strathcona’s Horse, a tank regiment in the Canadian Army. They make me think of him.
10 | My director’s tool
In the ’90s, a director named Patrick Hasburgh gave me a Mark V viewfinder—that’s the lens-type thing directors use to frame scenes. I’d never directed anything, but he said, “I think you might need this one day.” He was right.
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I like Paul’s work but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to see any depiction of Canada’s war in Afghanistan that doesn’t acknowledge Canadian war crimes or the overwhelming evidence that Canadian soldiers are typically alcoholic racists, rapists and wife beaters.