“Don’t look, don’t look, because there will be secrets on stage […] there will be incredible love […] there will still be secrets […] The adults need to come out. » Repeated like a leitmotif which becomes an invitation to do the opposite, this sentence serves as a common thread for this new creation of the Théâtre Carrousel, like a desire to find the pleasure of the game by deconstructing the codes, the rules and ignoring the constraints .
Written by Martin Bellemare, A little party. Cabaret of dissidence is a clandestine meeting between a trio of merry men and a small group of children invited to “dissident”. To shake up the hierarchy, to “dissident” to better decide, at least for the duration of a performance. Presented in a cabaret format, the piece is made up of a series of sketches, each more explosive, delirious and crazy than the last. From a rapprochement between two lovers (Mathieu Gosselin and Pénélope Ducharme) who, loving and loving, will have difficulty separating, to a tribute to punk music — Mathieu Gosselin dressed in a perfecto and wearing a crest of punk shines brightly — through the entry on stage of therianthropic characters, each number is carried with audacity and casualness. The presence of the music on stage, a real character in itself, matches and adds a lot to the zany and clownish atmosphere of the whole thing. A skilful virtuoso, Némo Venba – both actor and one-man band – offers explosive sketches, plays the drums with a baguette – into which he ends up biting – as well as the saw, blows simultaneously into two flutes behind the scenes, does a ukulele solo, not to mention his role as noisemaker, which he assumes with natural ease.
But who “dissides”?
The very form of the story, presented in reverse, ensures this need to shake up the codes. The play begins with the end, the actors inviting the children to applaud before the show takes off, and ends with the beginning. The children will stay still for a moment, amazed by this different way of doing things. The magic happens. But are they too wise? Too supervised? Do they need space to let go?
Marie-Eve Huot’s stage proposal at least allows them to do so during these 45 minutes. In an intimate formula, conducive to confidences, it envelops the carnival story with a hushed aura. Installed around the central stage, very close to the actors’ performance, the children are frequently challenged, questioned and also invited to participate in this celebration of dissidence. In the lead, the strong-willed and enthusiastic Lina will have a blast hitting a “useless toy” with a plastic sledgehammer. Everything is upside down, in a disorder that comes from the simple joy of doing things against the grain, of abolishing laws and rules away from adult ears and gazes. But, as in any performance for young people, a few adults entered the room. Without being invited, some seemed to want to play the game of dissidence, occupying space that did not belong to them, by brazenly chatting during the show.