Montréal - well-tempered complacency 

The first thing that strikes about Montreal is the absence of people. They are surely there, but they are not where they are expected. One part of this trip is to meet a pedestrian planning group with whom we work, and we wonder quite what material they have to work with.
 
Yes, there is the inevitable post-Covid WFH exorcism, reducing rush hours to a trickle and enhancing the frequency of city edge coffee shops, but even then the barely occupied streets that surround the very centre of downtown seem hard to explain, except by recognising that they have little to offer pedestrians, let alone we avid City Flaneurs. There is more activity in the suburbs.

Much of the reason for the abandoned city pavements is the habit of Montrealers to live underground, burrowing under downtown streets between block centred low-glitz malls to keep either warm or cool as the seasons dictate, most shops turning inward and leaving only blank external façades to accommodate small openings for people, large ones for vehicles and dirty ones for air. The Museum of Fine Arts is no exception, a substantial historic stone edifice with great colonnaded portal but no sign of an open entrance, which is eventually found in the glossy new building across the street, on the other end of yet another underpass. As usual in Montreal, the signage lies between non-existent and dreadful.

Of course, while underground, interests dictate that we should visit the metro and we find it to be excellent, albeit or due to it being largely empty at many times of day. The interchanges buzz a little more, but as much from clashing pathways of well-mannered passengers as from their excessive numbers. Out in the inner-city suburbs, where opportunities are not as constrained by space or developer funding, many of the station interiors are quite spectacular, sculptural brutalism at its best, modern ecclesiastical spaces top lit, richly hewn and unusually decorated with lighting and artworks of individual characters. Hundreds of photos are taken only a few of which fit here. Sadly for us architects however, once space and form find their way up to the street, the architecture that tops them off is most often becomes banal, apologetic, uninspired and certainly not meriting a photograph.

Possibly reason #2 for the apparent city desertification is the comfort that prevails in these inner-city suburbs. Here we find the idyllic lifestyle of the majority, a calm natured ambience, no sign of the over-exuberant gloss worn by many of their southern neighbours, no-need to go rushing about, leisurely strolls between coffee and gym, picnics in the park and lazy street brunches served all day long in dappled shade. As a visitor with ample time on their hands, it suits rather nicely. What it does for the GDP can only be guessed at. But for a couple eager for a new cultural fix there are definitely some gaps.

Montreal is not alone in bearing the marks of well-tempered complacency; we liken it to Luxembourg. Like Luxembourg, Montreal has all the bits you need, good arts venues, curated museums, robust institutions, preserved history, good transport - clean and on-time, observed cycle ways, orderly crossings, tended gardens, a dash of wild nature, regular rubbish collections and a smattering of new immigrants and ageing hippies to inject colour.

But while there are notable and enjoyable exceptions - those extraordinary stations, industrial concrete Jenga housing blocks on blocks, two pieces of well-crafted brutalism, Bucky’s gifted dome, a couple of big-span well-used Olympic halls – each is special and unique and, despite their presence, their wider influence is nowhere evident. Like Luxembourg, the seeming shortage of spark, of passion, of fear, of other opinion, while initially comforting, appears to lead to a dulling of the senses and an absence of the critically creative.

We see a few performances, classic, dance, jazz, enjoyable enough but muted in their originality; take in an exhibition or two, of an unintelligible Siza, an over-restored historic architecture, and a slightly odd conflation of beaux arts and late 20C modernism. We look hard for good rather than purely textbook buildings, in the city and the suburbs, and enjoy more the gaps in between; we briefly listen-in on a design crit with an active teacher and passive students. We visit orderly market halls without smell, we see office blocks without the drama of entrance, we see squares with little place, we sit in churches that are warm.
 
Maybe we are simply spoilt.

June 2026