After spending July at the Capitol, the musical Rock of Ages is currently presented at Espace St-Denis. High quality entertainment, carried by the successes of Styx, Journey, Bon Jovi, Pat Benatar, Twisted Sister, Poison and Europe, but above all by a cast without a weak link, the show directed by Joël Legendre restores its letters of nobility to the musical jukebokan often disappointing genre that is skilfully diverted here with a tasty dose of derision.
Imagined by Chris D’Arienzo in 2005, presented on Broadway in 2009 and adapted to the cinema in 2012, the show takes place in 1987 in Hollywood, more precisely in the Bourbon Room, a bar which is about to be demolished by promoters real estate. The plot is simple, but it relies on proven springs: between Drew (Jordan Donoghue), an apprentice rock star, and Sherrie (Lunou Zucchini), who left her native Kansas in the hope of becoming an actress, the current passes from the first glance. Will their love, thwarted by the repulsive Stacee Jaxx (Rémi Chassé), be enough to prevent the end of a legendary establishment and thus of a mythical era?
With humor
The greatest quality of this work, which distinguishes it from most musicals in its category, is that it does not take itself seriously. This translates first of all into the presence of a narrator who does not hesitate to break down the fourth wall in order to underline the absurdity of a situation or to remind young people that in the 1980s we tolerated behavior that would be inadmissible today. This key role, a character as libidinous as it is insightful, is Tommy Joubert who plays it with incredible talent. From the first seconds of the show, the outstanding actor, endowed with an exceptional voice, puts the entire audience in his pocket.
The humor also comes through the meticulous work of Olivier Berthiaume in the translation and adaptation of the dialogues. Earthy, stuffed with perfectly adequate Quebec references, the texts offer consistency and homogeneity to what would otherwise be a series of medleys and musical collages. Skilfully taking advantage of some scaffolding, refusing to rely on LED walls, Stéban Sanfaçon’s scenography is simple and effective, deliberately artisanal, endowed with a cartoonish character that is reminiscent of Houndstooth.
Sensitive and unpretentious
To sing Don’t Stop Believin’, We Built This City, The Final Countdown Where I Want to Know What Love Is, we can count on powerful voices, starting with those of the three headliners, but there are also impressive voices among the secondary characters: that of Joëlle Lanctôt, hilarious in the role of the activist Régina, that of Matthieu Lévesque, mostly in colorful spandex by Franz, but especially the truly extraordinary one by Sharon James, who plays Justice, the owner of a strip club. Thanks to the four musicians on stage, it all sounds like a ton of bricks.
Joël Legendre signs a show on a human scale, that is to say sensitive, unpretentious, acknowledging the progress made by society over the past 35 years. After having attended this hymn to solidarity, this vibrant tribute to rock music, this rolling fire of irresistible winks and tasty changes of tone, we leave the room with a festive heart, cheered up by so many of talent and intelligence.