It was said that she was a witch who killed seven husbands, no less. The rumor surrounding Marie-Josephte Corriveau, executed for the murder of her husband, has swelled to the point of turning into legend. A story that has remained alive in the Quebec imagination for the ignominy of the treatment reserved for his body, exposed in a cage. A whole subject for an ambitious creation of musical theatre. Driven by a quality distribution, The Corriveau. The Thirst of Crows was born at the Center culturel Desjardins, in Joliette.
The co-production of the Théâtre de l’Oeil Ouvert seems less a show about its protagonist than a deconstruction of its legend. The trial of the trial that was made to this thirty-year-old victim of a double domination. The play recalls the relevant historical context of this news item from 1763, when the sentence became an opportunity for the British court-martial to assert its authority over recently conquered New France by condemning Marie-Josephte Corriveau — in a language that she doesn’t understand. And with the appalling gibbet, it “will serve as a scarecrow to extinguish all hope of rebellion”, writes co-author Félix Léveillé in the program. The story is also revisited from a feminist angle, the murdered husband (Simon Fréchette-Daoust) being violent. The narration of a contemporary journalist (Karine Lagueux) makes the link with today.
overall strength
Corriveau offers a bold and curious fusion between eras and registers: history, folklore, social commentary, humour. And because the legend invoked witchcraft, fantasy. Thus, the Machiavellian prosecutor (flamboyant Frédérike Bédard) brings the dead back to life! She and the other Corriveau accusers are represented as a band of crows, dressed in appropriate black costumes. A surprising allegorization, which illustrates the often predatory dimension of public opinion, but which is pushed far, croaking included.
The piece is also carried by the collective tableaux, with these slanderous villagers who become a people’s tribunal – a choir formed by the entire cast. Alas, the story seems long, especially during the trial, and some scenes, repetitive. And we are a little surprised that Corriveau gives so little presence, in the end, to a woman (Jade Bruneau, who also signs the staging) described as “powerful”. While one or two peripheral characters, who are entitled to a song, do not seem to them, hardly interesting.
However, the musicality sustains the show from start to finish, from songs by Audrey Thériault to eclectic sounds. The distribution includes very gifted vocalists, like Jean Maheux, as a father first accused of the murder, and Renaud Paradis, as a notary defending the accused. But there again, more than the solos, it’s the overall strength that seems to dominate. Ample and harmonious choirs to evoke a significant episode in our collective story.