Meanwhile 1999

In a Montréal restaurant, a busy evening unfolds like a tapestry of small, intimate stories colliding under one roof. Two waitresses glide between tables, chatting softly about their own romantic hopes while taking orders and keeping an eye on the steady flow of patrons. The scene feels almost ordinary, until a thread of danger threads its way through the chatter and the clatter of dishes.

A portly man orders a second dish he does not eat, savoring the aroma and the small victory of avoiding heavy fat and cholesterol. Nearby, a mother and her young daughter Josée-Marguerite wait for a man who hasn’t arrived yet. An elegant older woman catches the eye of another elderly diner, sparking a moment of quiet interest in a room full of conversations. Outside, a lovers’ quarrel between a young man and woman adds a tense undercurrent to the evening.

Under a reserved table, a man in a jacket sits with a hidden purpose. He places a dynamite time bomb beneath the table and, when he’s informed the table is reserved, rises, pulls out a phone, and makes a discreet call as two English-speaking mafiosi enter and settle at the same table. The bomber reveals a concealed timer inside a cigarette-pack routine, and he sets it for five minutes. A rapid montage of images lit by stark white light follows, heightening the sense that something catastrophic is about to unfold.

He steps outside to correct a knocked-over trash bin, retrieves the remote device, and blends back into the restaurant as the tension thickens. Inside, one mafioso receives a muffled phone call and storms off without ordering anything. The little girl Josée-Marguerite notices something under the reserved table, her curiosity meeting her mother’s caution. Her mother scolds her for staring, but Josée-Marguerite insists there is something flashing beneath the surface.

As the timer ticks down to 2:55, the portly man catches a glint in the reflection of an older diner’s pocket watch and sees the red light flicker. The older man quips that he’s taking his time, even as the danger smiles from beneath the table, and he tries to marshal his courage and composure, hoping to win a lady’s favor with a calm, measured approach. The elderly woman who has been watching smiles through the window, then leaves, the timer still counting down.

With the clock counting down to 0:59, the older lady quietly slips away, mentoring the young man on the right move to make, while the mother’s patience wears thin and she prepares to welcome her boyfriend when he finally arrives. The portly man, meanwhile, orders coffee and cigarettes, and the room grows tenser as the couple at the center inch toward reconciliation.

The moment of decision spirals toward its close: the young couple makes up, and the older lady’s eyes light up with a small triumph as she witnesses the return of harmony inside the restaurant. The door becomes a familiar obstacle for the older man, who struggles to exit, while the devious countdown races toward its final seconds. The older lady discovers the remote in the bin outside, flips a switch, and tries the device again, only to abandon it in a sigh of frustration.

Back inside, the portly man takes the older lady’s leftovers as a quiet, almost ritual consolation prize. Josée-Marguerite finally meets her mother’s boyfriend, and the two waitresses catch up on their own news, sharing a brief, intimate moment in the middle of the ongoing tension. The young couple kiss with renewed passion, and life in the bustling café seems to settle into a fragile calm.

Yet the bomb remains half-dislodged, its timer still stubbornly showing 0:01, a grim reminder that the night’s danger has not truly passed. The room breathes again, each character holding their moment of relief, even as the city outside continues its ordinary rhythm. The final image circles back to how close everyone came to a calamity, and how, for a moment, ordinary meals, chances, and connections hung in the balance before returning to the ordinary rhythm of life.