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Take me now, Lord >> Théâtre d'Aujourd'hui's Nocturne is slow torture by AMY BARRATT
Set entirely in a city park at night, this drama by Pan Bouyoucas revolves around a bourgeois couple in their 40s, played by Han Masson and Igor Ovadis. The plot, embarrassing to tell, is this: the woman wants the man to help her hang herself (that's right, by the neck), right here, tonight, from the crossbar of the swing set. Oh, not until death, you understand, just till near-death. She has a yen for one of those neat out-of-body experiences she's heard about on TV: the white light, the dead relatives coming to greet you. She says she wants proof of an afterlife in order to find meaning in this life. So she wants her partner (I don't believe anybody has a name in this show) to let her hang for 60 seconds and then cut her down. He is, as you might expect, not very keen on her little project. What ensues is a perfect exercise for acting students (the man arguing, cajoling, attacking, wooing and begging the woman to change her mind, while she sticks more and more firmly to her intention) and an excruciating bore for theatre audiences. We're not supposed to care about these people--the playwright knows full well that they are decadent pigs--but if we don't care about them, why should we sit and watch their little mind games for two hours? When Bouyoucas introduces a third character, it's initially a relief--until it becomes clear that this one is even less realistic than the other two. A boy of unspecified age enters the park and quickly gets sucked into the couple's sick parlour game. An orphan who has recently escaped the child-protection authorities, he looks like a streetwise little punk but displays an innocence and cuteness in relation to the adult couple that is positively Dickensian. Christian Brisson Dargis, an actor of small stature in his early 20s, is terrible in this role, but it's not his fault. Brisson Dargis looks at least 14 years old and sometimes sounds about 10 or younger, but no matter what age you imagine the character to be, he remains completely unbelievable. Han Masson is very committed and at times almost sympathetic as the quasi-suicidal lady who lunches, while Ovadis is a bit of an arm-waver and a scenery-chewer as the atheistic, immigrant partner-husband-whatever. Ordinarily, I wouldn't give away this much of the plot, but this is one of those occasions where it feels like a public service. There is a gory death scene at the end of the play that to me is pornographic--and by that I do not mean sexy, but gratuitous and sickening. Although I believe it is Bouyoucas' intention to sicken us, to show us how evil humanity can be, the way he does it is so contrived that all my righteous indignation is reserved for him and director Serge Denoncourt, rather than for the actors--who are as much victims of their manipulation as we are. Most of the blame for this thoroughly unpleasant night at the theatre must go to Bouyoucas, but Denoncourt has not made it any better through his practically non-existent direction. Just one example: if he couldn't think of a way to handle a near-hanging that wasn't laughable, he should have abandoned the project. >>> In the interests of democracy and user-friendliness, new directors Jacques Vézina and René Richard Cyr have made a couple of changes at Théâtre d'Aujourd'hui. Any ticket, any night, now costs an even 20 bucks and you can now reserve tickets over the phone without a credit card; good news for the credit-rating challenged, such as myself.
Nocturne continues until October 10
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Once in a while a play comes along that is completely unbelievable. Nocturne, currently playing at Théâtre d'Aujourd'hui, is one of those plays. I didn't believe one word or action from beginning to end. The question: is this the fault of the writing, the acting, the direction or all three?