seven years later Assumehis first comedy show, Fabien Cloutier is doing it again with DelicateA stand up who will certainly not disorient those who knew him thanks to scotstown or at Cranbourne. Indeed, in the tone and the manner, the themes and their treatment, the gaze and the vocabulary, we recognize the storyteller that the man was, and that he never ceased to be in the end.
Originally from Sainte-Marie-de-Beauce, Fabien Cloutier now lives in Longueuil. It is probably for this reason that several of his new observations are based on the differences between the countryside, the city and the suburbs, on the living and consumption habits of each other, on the gulf which is widening between the concerns of the haves and those of the have-nots. Although the comedian does not hesitate to depict his indecent comfort – sushi, white wine and a 4K screen to watch a fascinating documentary on the slums – his self-mockery lacks teeth. So much so that we smile a lot, but rarely laugh.
Same approach with regard to the environment. Fabien Cloutier explains at length the many advantages of global warming. Think of all the exotic fruits that we will no longer need to import. Think of the harsh winters that will be a distant memory. Melting ice ? This would be the perfect opportunity to finally see what is hidden under the Greenland ice cap. There may be discoveries to be made, explains Cloutier. These people, he adds, they too are entitled to the great happiness of mowing their lawns.
In his way of treating a subject at this crucial point, which would have deserved to be approached in a visceral, scathing, surprising, or even just refreshing way, we recognize on the contrary something strangely dated, not to say dated. anachronistic. However, we feel in the comedian a sincere concern for the state of the planet, a real trouble caused by the poor conditions in which many humans have to live and work. Like many individuals in his situation, it is not uncommon for the comedian to be crippled with guilt. He knows well that the hands of the Indian workers are burned by the acidity of the cashew nuts… but he simply cannot resist buying “pailers” of them at Costco.
Where Cloutier reconnects unreservedly with his past as a storyteller is when he gives into the disgusting and malodorous. It is in particular a question of the turnip, the only vegetable that he wants to eat after having “shit” it, to see if it would not be better than the original version. We also hear him talk a lot about his friend whose anus has been spectacularly transformed by inflammation. A button that looks like a kiwi and the contents smell of carrion. From a penis from which flows a purulent substance. Not to mention the epic and detailed chronicle of violent diarrhea on the bus. Sensitive hearts abstain.
What we find with happiness are Fabien Cloutier’s qualities as a storyteller, his sense of storytelling and rhythm, his ability to create strong images in the viewer’s mind. We are surprised, however, that he does not have more recourse to mime, when he is very gifted for the thing, and that he does not more often embody characters, such as the hilarious old man who clings to his Tablet. It would certainly add a lot of relief to the portrait he paints of his time.