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Comic exposure >> Yves Desgagnés lampoons the Quebec theatre community by AMY BARRATT
Le Nombril du monde is both a love letter to those who make theatre happen and an excoriation of the artsy-farties who would ruin it with navel-gazing. The initial image in Desgagnés' play is enough to strike fear into the heart of anyone who sees a lot of theatre in this city: a thin young man, powdered white from bald head to toes and wearing a sort of gold diaper, enters in front of the curtain and raises his arms in a portentous gesture. 'Oh no,' you think, frantically scoping out the exits, 'not another one of these plays!' Happily, it isn't. Desgagnés is pulling our collective leg. The curtain rises on a realistically grimy backstage area, where the bizarrely costumed lad is revealed to be a starry-eyed actor getting his first big break. It's closing night of a new play by self-satisfied auteur Georges Jomphe (Pierre Lebeau, most recently TNM's Cyrano). La Tragédie de l'enfant perdu, as the play-within-the-play is called, has been a huge flop with public and critics alike. Thankfully, we are spared the tragédie supposedly going on behind the towering wall of flats that form the upper part of the set. The heart and soul of Le Nombril du monde is the character of Madame Boily, played by Rita Lafontaine. The mother of the young actor, Conrad, she has made the five-hour bus trip from Charlevoix to surprise her youngest child. The introduction of this very down-to-earth woman into the insulated, snobby atmosphere of the theatre shakes everything up and provides the play's funniest and most touching moments. The script could still be improved by trimming a few plot twists from the second act and about 20 minutes from its running time. If I were Desgagnés, I would also re-evaluate the token anglo character, a techie named Peter Pouliot, who struts around like Romeo in black jeans listening to the hockey game on the radio and rooting for New York. While all the characters are exaggerated, they mostly have a strong basis in truth. This Peter is based less on reality than on a long tradition of Evil Anglos in québécois theatre. We are given no indication of where he comes from, except that his last name suggests he is an assimilated French Canadian (he speaks his lines exclusively in English). But if that's the case, his rooting for the Rangers over the Habs is mystifying, as is his taunting of the francophones as a bunch of losers after the Canadiens lose. Le Nombril du monde casts the Theatre Critic as a powerful, if distasteful, character, able to sound the death knell for a new play. Though I found this perversely flattering, it's simply not true in the case of an old-established company like Duceppe, whose survival depends on its subscriber base, not on a few scribblers. Nevertheless, for the record, following their season opener Bonjour, là, bonjour, Compagnie Jean-Duceppe is currently batting a thousand with this critic. At Théâtre Jean-Duceppe of Place des Arts to Dec. 6. $2434. 842-2112
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Quick, someone measure Yves Desgagnés for a halo! The québécois theatre scene has found its witty saviour. Known primarily as a director, Desgagnés is currently staging his first solo work as playwright, Le Nombril du monde at Théâtre Jean-Duceppe.