Chronique Nocturne: Capturing Montreal’s After-Hours in the 1980s

Chronique Nocturne: Capturing Montreal’s After-Hours in the 1980s

Every photographer understands the critical role of natural light—and the challenges that arise when it’s absent. So when Bertrand Carrière, a young photographer at the time, received a generous Canada Council grant in the early 1980s to document Montreal by night, he knew he was in for a demanding yet exhilarating experience. How would he illuminate a city that thrives in shadows?

“I was 25, just getting started,” says Carrière, now 68. “I was probably paying a quarter of what you’d pay today for a big apartment with a darkroom in the basement.” Fortunately, Montreal—gritty and gorgeous as ever—had no shortage of offbeat characters and peculiar late-night scenes. All Carrière needed to do was find them in the dark.

To do that, he gained exclusive access to Montreal’s metro system and ambulance service, allowing him to ride with supervisors and photograph unfolding events in real time. He spent countless hours tuned into local radio, waiting for word of interesting happenings. “I’d just show up and ask the manager if I could take a few pictures,” he recalls. “People often saw it as free publicity—or just didn’t mind. Folks weren’t as wary back then.”

Over the course of two years, Carrière shot hundreds of rolls of film. His camera captured everything from lavish private parties and sweaty punk-rock shows to intimate pub scenes and wild street festivals. But he was just as drawn to quiet, isolated figures—stragglers and sleepers lost in the city’s shadowy corners.

“Montreal has always been a cool city, full of energy and eccentricity,” Carrière says. He now resides in Quebec’s Eastern Townships, but the spirit of that era lingers in his memories. He remembers roaming the streets with his Leica and a flash. The latter was both a blessing and a curse: it made his subjects instantly aware of him. “Unlike daytime photography, where you can shoot unnoticed, at night there’s no hiding,” he says. “You only get one chance. There are no second takes.”

Carrière’s nighttime work is now part of Chronique Nocturne, a collection of 45 photographs taken between 1982 and 1983. A selection of these is featured in Pounding the Pavement, a major exhibition at the McCord Stewart Museum in Montreal that runs until October 26. The exhibit brings together more than 30 photographers and 400 images to trace the city’s urban and cultural evolution. Amid this broad visual tapestry, Carrière’s candid street scenes still cut through with their raw honesty and emotional immediacy.

“What’s interesting about street photography,” he says, “is that there’s no before or after. What you see is what you get.”

Below, Carrière shares the stories behind some of his most striking images:

Saint-Valentine’s Day Dance

A luxurious Valentine’s Day ball at a hotel. A big band played as couples danced. One woman surrendered fully to the rhythm, while her partner—behind oversized glasses—locked eyes with the camera. “He wasn’t hostile,” Carrière notes, “just aware of being seen in the dark.”

Rue Stanley

During a radio station contest involving hidden diamonds, Carrière stood in the rain as a Rolls-Royce arrived and a city bus rolled by. The camera flash revealed a surreal scene: a man in a cat mask (the contest’s mascot) and former race car driver Monique Proulx behind the wheel. “Without the context, the photo is completely bizarre,” Carrière says.

Saint-Jean Baptiste Day, rue Saint-Denis

A lively street celebration was underway. A man emerged from an alley with a balloon tied to his hat. Carrière knelt to shoot from below, capturing the glowing balloon as if it were a full moon tethered to the figure.

Car Accident, Boulevard Dorchester

Riding along with ambulance supervisors, Carrière arrived moments after a serious car crash. The tension escalated when one man punched the other driver. “Photographing something like this is risky,” Carrière explains. “You never know how people will respond to your presence.”

Poster for Alice, Omnibus Theatre

In a dark alley on rue Prince-Arthur, Carrière encountered a poster for Alice, a stage production inspired by Alice in Wonderland. The image of Alice falling—mouth agape in a silent scream—added a layer of eerie danger to the deserted surroundings.

Couple, Bar Le Cargo

Inside a punk-ish alternative bar, Carrière spotted a woman in a leopard-print coat. He asked to photograph her and her companion, capturing an image that radiates intimacy and cool defiance.

Beaudry Metro Station

At around 10 p.m., Carrière stumbled upon a man asleep on the flat, sloped escalator unique to this metro station. “Is he homeless? Drunk? Just tired?” he muses. “You’d have to ask him.”

Pine-Park Viaduct

At the infamous Pine-Park interchange—now demolished—Carrière noticed a lone figure under the bridge. He took a long exposure from above, creating the series’ only wide shot. “That place was a nightmare for pedestrians,” he says, particularly for women walking alone at night.

Firemen, Saint-Henri

On a freezing December night, Carrière photographed firemen coated in ice. “It’s strange and unexpected,” he says. “It takes your brain a second to register what’s happening. I love how they’re facing each other, their breath visible between them.”

Outside Le Spectrum Theatre

The Scottish punk band The Exploited played one of Montreal’s earliest major punk shows. Carrière captured the raw energy outside the venue: a raucous mosh pit, provocative fashion, and a crowd embracing a new musical rebellion.

Halloween, Berri–de Montigny Metro Station

Carrière roamed the city on Halloween, intrigued by costumed revelers. In one metro station, he encountered two men dressed in vintage British-looking attire. “They looked like they should be in a limousine, not waiting for a subway,” he recalls.

Little Italy

Following Italy’s World Cup victory, Montreal’s Little Italy erupted in celebration. “The police gave up trying to control the crowd,” Carrière remembers. But even amid the chaos, he found moments of contrast—like a pair of women who remained completely indifferent to the revelry around them.