A dorky campaign

>> The clumsy satire of Propagande preaches to the converted

by AMY BARRATT

Propagande, by Stéphane E. Roy, has a cool premise: Sébastien, an ad-man and staunch Péquiste, is asked to come up with an advertising campaign for the Quebec Liberals, selling the No side in an upcoming sovereignty referendum. Initially, he says no way, but then, in the course of a brief scene, he allows himself to be talked into it.

Naturally, if Sébastien had stuck to his guns and said no, there would be no play, but his sudden flip-flop is the first weak spot in the script. He is part owner in the company, so there's no way he could be forced to take the contract, and we're not given reason to believe the company is about to go under, so it didn't seem like there was a strong enough reason for Sébastien to change his mind. His decision is apparently based on greed: it's a high-profile contract that will pay handsomely.

The first act of Propagande, playing in the secondary house at Théâtre d'Aujourd'hui, is lots of fun. Every possible playing space is exploited: balconies, a staircase, with the audience seated in the middle of the action on rolling office chairs. All of the elements--music coming in and out, lights up and down, actors on and off--help to recreate the frenzied pace of an advertizing agency. The dialogue is fast and funny, with Sébastien and his colleague Louis simultaneously working on campaigns for "Les Chaussons Rachon" and the No side.

It's not long before we're introduced to the stock stupid English Canadian (you knew there had to be one, right?). Mr. Pearson (Ken Scott), is Eastern Sales Director for Can Food Corp.; he barely speaks French and doesn't understand why the French-language ad campaign for his Silver Corn cereal can't just be a straight translation of the English version, Leonard Cohen song and all.

Was I offended by this play? Not initially. After all, Roy had everyone saying ridiculous, contradictory things. I didn't feel I was being asked to identify with Parizeau-lover Sébastien (played by Roy himself) any more than with any other character.

Then came the second act and the play fell apart on several levels. A tone that bordered on satire in the first half degenerated into broad spoof in the second. Sébastien devises a dorky campaign which his Liberal clients love because, well, all federalists are ignorant dorks. Meanwhile, Sébastien is having a delayed crisis of conscience. The entire, talky second act is devoted to the question, "When did I cross the line?" i.e. become a sell-out. But is Sébastien more worried about his soul, or the possibility that his ad campaign might actually net a win for the No? Sébastien whines his way through interminable scenes with his current, materialistic girlfriend, Maryse, his former granola girlfriend Marie-Anne, and his partner-boss François, but we've got little sympathy for him by this point.

Propagande is a failure because Sébastien doesn't change or grow in the course of the play. If he'd taken the Liberal contract and started to believe his own message, now that would have made an interesting dilemma. Or if he'd taken on the campaign for the Yes side and slowly realized that even if you believe in your political message, it's still propaganda.

Instead, Propagande degenerates into smugly preaching to the converted. Need a laugh? Haul out a Canadian flag. Cheap.

Propagande, to Nov. 4 in the Salle Jean-Claude Germain of Théâtre d'Aujourd'hui; 282-3900