Quebecers do not all cherish the same Serge Thériault. Even if he has been our “Môman” for a long time, some have memories of the time of the Paul and Paul trio (with Jacques Grisé and Claude Meunier), and later of the Ding and Dong duo (with Meunier by his side). Others have not forgotten the audacity of Guy Fournier to have made him the housekeeper of the Duval family in the soap opera Never two without you, and who lived in a household with a policeman! For my part, I will never forget the fragile mechanic of Gas bar blues, of the filmmaker Louis Bélanger, and the timorous bank employee, who believes that amateur theater would be liberating for him, from the play Call me Stéphane, by Louis Saïa and Claude Meunier.
Serge Thériault, the man, no longer cultivates this illusion about his profession. His demons took over and dragged him into somewhat schizophrenic seclusion. Many popular actors have fallen into cruel oblivion, but few of them still entertain 800,000 viewers, week after week, on a show like The little life, rebroadcast until more thirst, and which will soon celebrate its 30 years of existence in its televisual form.
Going in search of him was more an act of love than a voyeuristic posture for Martin Fournier and Pier-Luc Latulippe in Outside Serge outside. This is obvious to anyone who has seen Manor (2016), an intimate documentary on social castaways living in a dilapidated motel, worried about an uncertain future, including whether they will find another home. Thériault has one… and never leaves it. Despite the desperate efforts of his wife, Anna Suazo, and their teenage daughter Melina, there is no question of breathing the fresh air, of stepping outside, let alone reconnecting with his former coworkers. Many have abdicated in front of the wall he has erected between himself and the rest of the world.
The two filmmakers quickly understood that they were dealing with a hunted beast that only trusted two neighbors, Jolande and Robert Racicot. The walls and ceilings of the building are so permeable that the couple can hear their comings and goings, and especially their silences. The actor is most often prostrate, unable to answer the phone, opening the door only to Robert, a gracious, helpful man who has overwhelming admiration for him. But this is not enough to convince him to ask for help, including psychiatric.
This elusive subject becomes in Outside Serge outside… The central subject. It is his absence that envelops the other characters in immense sadness, sometimes even in deep despair, especially Anna, at wit’s end. The presence of Fournier and Latulippe becomes in a way her ultimate lifeline, the latter affirming from the beginning of the film that this cinematographic gesture will not please Serge, but after so many years of inaction, that a does she have to lose?
The artist’s invisibility seemed at first an obstacle, but over the course of the visits, the phone calls (mainly between an empathetic Martin and a tearful Anna), broken exchanges and a modest camera sometimes confined in the staircase of the building, sometimes behind the windows of a semi-basement, a profile emerges. It is that of a being for whom the rest of the world appears as a permanent threat, so far from everything and everyone that he does not know how his suffering is spread to all floors, and far beyond.
If you were looking for an inspiring piece of work illustrating the powerlessness in the face of the abyss of mental illness, Outside Serge outside represents the emblematic example. By going to the essential (fans of star biographies will be the only ones disappointed), by giving a voice to those who risk collapsing in turn, by pinpointing the scarcity of resources, by seizing a daily life punctuated by the seasons and the familiar noises of a poorly soundproofed place, this portrait of a fleeing actor is aimed right, straight to the heart. In a delicate, admirable and tinged way, yes, with a few glimmers of hope. Life doesn’t always have to be small.