Living Together paints a layered portrait of Gen Z and the housing crisis, January 3 to 9
Minimalistic Montreal documentary follows renters interviewing fellow roommates, with revealing results
Living Together.
VIFF Centre screens Living Together from January 3 to 9
HALIMA ELKHATABI’S NFB DOCUMENTARY, Living Together, might do the best job of any recent film to capture the voices of Gen Z.
Planting her camera in 15 different Montreal apartments, she reveals a generation’s complex priorities, anxieties, and opinions—all through people interviewing potential roommates.
That these discussions are going on because of a housing crisis adds an even deeper layer to the portraits—an apartment shortage that hits home out here in Vancouver.
Living Together ends up being a chance for younger viewers to see themselves on-screen in rich, multilayered new ways; for older ones, it reveals a generation distinct from the ones that have preceded it.
For the bulk of the film, Elkhatabi’s camera sits static, capturing potential roomies discussing their worldviews and habits broken up by still shots of the interiors of the apartments—coats and bags weighing down hallway hooks, magnets holding snapshots on fridge doors, sticky-note reminders papering the wall above a student’s desk. It’s ultra-minimalistic, allowing the conversations, and the innermost beliefs they reveal, to take centre stage.
In one scene, a “multi-entrepreneur” warns one interviewee “I’m loud, I sing, I dance, I do jiu-jitsu.” In another, a woman on the autism spectrum searches for someone who understands neurodivergence. Some talk about white privilege, others explain their polyamorism. “You might wake up one day and there’ll be five people here,” they say, sitting in their tiny apartment kitchen. It’s striking how candid the film subjects are about mental illness—from their struggles with depression and anxiety to the quirks of their OCD.
The collective portrait defies blanket statements about the generation raised on the Internet and iPhones. We see open-mindedness, inclusivity, sensitivity, and empathy. Occasionally, we see fun eccentricities: one guy needs a place to store his 100 Lego sets. The overriding theme is a generation that prioritizes individual identity—for themselves and others.
Intentionally or not, the setup of the interviews also carries an awkwardness and tension: in many cases you can feel the potential roommate trying to please, no doubt aware of how badly they need a place to live. Unspoken is the power dynamic—of the person who has a room to rent and the person who needs it.
Only occasionally do older participants pop up, with subtly revealing results: one millennial is getting evicted because of his noisy tablesaw; another older man, a former mine worker, seems to find someone to talk to in the Gen Zer he interviews.
More than anything, this revealing film is about just what its title says: the challenges of "living together"—and learning to share space—in today's world and the open, honest discussions that are necessary to do so. Housing is a national calamity, but watching the conversations here you may be surprised to find yourself feeling something approaching hope. 
