Like urban icebergs, the metro stations of Montréal are 90% below the surface and 10% above.  A similar ratio of design effort seems to have been distributed between the below ground and above ground architecture.

The Montréal Metro is a splendid system, based in part on the Parisian, with rubber tyres, open platforms, a pleasing absence of advertising and barely enough signage. Only four lines - orange, green, blue and a token yellow - manage to distribute themselves to most of the places anyone might like to go, and where the lines become a little too spaced out in the extremities, the same-ticket bus network covers the rest.  Constructed in phases from the 1960’s onwards - after a sixty-year deliberation period – the three primary lines get better and better as their length increases, while the short yellow one, rushed into place to serve the well-known Montréal Expo ‘67, has a bit the poor cousin character of the Waterloo and City line in London.

From a station design perspective, it was not until the 1970’s that the designers got the bit between their teeth, the artists were properly integrated, and the stations started to become extraordinary, most particularly in the character of the deep box shafts that bring the passengers down from the surface to the platforms. And so unusually, it is the lesser used stations at the extremities, constructed in the later phases, that are the most generous and eye-catching, while those downtown, doubtless guided by the developer funding from directly above, are generally little more than functional.

I tended to concentrate my time and camera on those at the line ends, passing through the centre comfortably enough – Montréal Metro is not at all busy as metros go (don’t ask about the business case) – but without much eagerness to get off.  

Lasalle - possibly my favourite Montréal Metro station, because at last the architects put as much effort into the street entrance as they did into integrating the jolly stainless steel and textured concrete  below.

The connecting theme is 1970s brutalism - which seems also to be a sensible avoidance of the cost of internal finishes – allied with strong sculptural modelling. Indeed, in many stations at the extremities, I can’t help but wonder if the station entrance shafts - where by far the more dynamic and interesting forms are to be found - are the result of a close companionship between engineers and artists/sculptors, both appearing to be having all the fun, while the architects sat idly by.

To the most part the platforms extend out of the shafts as wide span low height concrete arches and, while some benefit from high perspectivised volumes, artistic decoration and some interesting seat and lighting design, for the most part they are dimly lit and functional. Which is OK in a city as safe as Montréal where the trains come relatively frequently, but in places less pleasant the long dark single ended spaces would threaten, and goodness knows how the fire strategy is resolved.

When it comes to considering the space for and routing of passengers, or the integrating of operating and commercial facilities, the solutions wouldn’t pass muster in any better regulated system. That’s not to say there is insufficient space, mostly there are insufficient passengers for all the space that has been created by the sculptor/engineers, it’s only that when the critical points of movement and crossovers occur, there is often unnecessary conflict. There are notable exceptions of course, but the fundamentals of good passenger movement and integrated facilities seem beyond the ken of whoever planned many of the stations.

The architect/planners fare even less well when all the entrance shafts’ concrete excitement arrives at the street.  While on occasions there appears to be a half-hearted attempt at statement making, generally the entrance forms are bemusingly poor, being apologetic, unadventurous or confusing, doing little for the urban space in which they sit and belying the experience of arrival and entry. Often this important urban infrastructure appears to be emulating the scale of local shops, or in interchanges be no bigger than the buses, which is so incongruous with the dynamic scale below. Where not buried in downtown development, many of these diminutive entrances are now surrounded by urban landscaping, the newness of which only accentuates the poor maintenance of its older centre piece. Those with stone cladding are sorely in need of maintenance, while surprisingly the raw concrete when left in its unnatural state fares better, the inevitable graffiti frequently spray washed away and so keeping the form looking tidy at least.

Verdun - a truly glorious underground station, a real pleasure to walk through, but what a dismal entrance. Just behind the vent and light shaft can be seen, bringing the underground forms elegantly to the surface. Did the architect miss the memo?

But poor entrances or not, and there are some that are at least amusing, those extraordinary shafts of baroque brutalism are some of the best metro spaces I have had the pleasure to visit.
 
What I am now eager to see are the proposals for the five stations of the blue line extension that are currently on the drawing board, while the tunnels are slowly progressing to the east of Montréal.  I am sorry to say I had not known of any of the architects appointed, all being from Québec, but a quick sortie through their websites gives me hope that this time, the architecture will befit the growing importance of public transport in this ever more car free city.

https://www.railfans.ca/metro/content/stations

Prefontaine - very strict, very practical, topped off with a funny hat, a miserable entrance and frequently accompanied by a busy graffiti remover.

Lucien-L'Allier - a simple, elegant, delightful station. The entrance squashed down a side street, impossible to find, not worth a photo.

Radisson - a good stab at gloopy concrete, well detailed, topped off with a WWII bunker to attract the customers. Nice subway arrangement follows...

Pie-IX - the station serving the Olympic venues, where wide rather than tall, reserved rather than eye catching is the order of the day. 

De La Savane - again the sculptor and the engineer are having fun with dome lights and stainless steel excrescences downstairs, while upstairs the architecture just can't compete.

Charlevoix - tough, effective with just a hint of stained glass colour cheering up the escalators. Nothing to be cheerful about at the surface.

L'Elglise - and finally a real design idea at the street - never mind that you might bang your head getting there - but can you guess where the front door is? 
No, that's not correct.