To enable us to wait until May, when he will present to the Centaur a rereading of Romeo and Juliet titled Little Willy, Ronnie Burkett welcomes a handful of spectators these days in the charming little room of the Maison internationale des arts de la marionnette. Thanks to The Loony Bina 75-minute show he imagined to get bored during the pandemic, the Ontario creator, master of the string puppet, a real national treasure, revives for our greatest pleasure with the hand puppet (hand puppet) from its beginnings.
Alone behind a small castle overlooked by a smiling and chubby moon, a boudoir cabaret located in the heart of a magical forest, Burkett brings out a gallery of characters who do not lack character. In this “insane asylum” threatened with being transformed into condos, there are grumpy people and others who are libidinous, disturbing individuals and others who are very endearing, young people who are making their debut and old people who prepare for their release. We rediscover with joy the melancholy Schnitzel, a boy-fairy now equipped with wings, the diva Esmé Massengill, a decrepit actress who is still just as irreverent, without forgetting Edna Rural, the matron of the prairies, a cook whose incomparable pies leave no one indifferent.
The star of this somewhat disjointed cabaret – an establishment reserved for adults, need we remind you? — is Vealma Abattoir, a cow who once found success by jumping over the moon. Around her, a troupe of artists, humans and animals on the decline whose shenanigans are a pretext for antics, tasty scenes, where we recognize the rich aesthetics of Burkett and his innate sense of improvisation, but who are for the moment awkwardly attached to each other. One has the impression of having access to one of the most promising construction sites, of observing the sketches, moreover very Shakespearian, of a show to come.
Despite these few dramaturgical weaknesses, quite understandable given the experimental nature of this show which is only in its very beginnings, we continue to bow to the sensitivity of the creator, the emotion he communicates to each of his creatures. We will never cease to be amazed by his talent for voices, accents, music and singing, but also by his inexhaustible complicity with the public (we are entitled to several excellent local jokes), his irresistible sense of repartee and his remarkable mastery of self-mockery. What a joy to know that we will be able to reconnect in May, at the Centaur, with this singular universe, tender and disturbing, always enchanting!