Free languages ​​| The Press

A naked actress, a liberated politician, an uneasy activist, I was not bored for a second at the twelfth edition of the Fight against the language of wood, Wednesday evening, at La Tulipe.

Feline and talkative, actor Stéphane Crête hosted this evening with a finger stuck in a 220-volt outlet. For two hours, ten brave participants from the world of the arts, the media or politics paraded at the microphone to denounce, slander or criticize various subjects and personalities. Three fabulous musicians coated their words.

The highlight of the evening was unquestionably the performance of the actress Pascale Montpetit who landed on stage to the sound of thundering music, dressed in a simple boxer’s bathrobe. After dropping the garment, she offered herself to the public…naked as a worm.

At first I thought she was wearing a rubber suit. But no, it was real skin, that of a 61-year-old woman (it was she who specified it). This audacious artist was not there to do gratuitous exhibitionism. She tackled with aplomb the question of the diktat of cosmetic surgery among actresses.

By listing the most retouched areas (forehead, eyelids, lips, neck, etc.) and giving the price of each of these interventions, she made us aware of the appalling reality of the actresses who shine on our screens.

“As soon as you have gray hair, you are made to play tramp roles,” she said.

Before taking back her bathrobe at the end of the number, she apologized with a lot of humor to Gilles Latulippe, who was once the soul of the theater where we were.

Many interesting things were said during the evening, but it must be recognized that they met a homogeneous audience. We were clearly left or centre-left. Let’s not forget that La Tulipe is located in the heart of the “orange corridor”.

I also wondered what kind of reactions this formula would generate if it were repeated in Rouyn, Gatineau, Sherbrooke, Quebec, Pierrefonds or Beauce. Would the participants and subjects be the same?

In short, the subjects of the participants easily found an echo with the spectators. Except during the passage of anti-racist activist Will Prosper, who delivered a convoluted speech while walking on a wire. To tell the truth, the former candidate of Projet Montréal has created enormous discomfort.

After drumming the word that begins with an N and settling accounts with Normand Brathwaite, he attacked the “old people” whom he held responsible for Monday evening’s election results. When he wondered how one could get rid of them by evoking the method of the “Germans”, the spectators began to look at the ceiling. From there, a heavy silence settled.

We want to fight the language of wood, but not just anyhow.

At the beginning of the evening, I asked the people seated at my table where we find the language of wood, while we live in an era where opinion is omnipresent in the media. Everyone agreed that she often takes refuge with politicians.

Marie Montpetit, who has not been a member since Monday evening, has just come to say how much she has had to deal with this set language during all her years spent in politics. And how happy she is to get out of this prison. A little more and she was singing to us Let It Go of The snow Queen.

However, it highlighted a huge paradox: people complain about politicians’ jargon, but mainstream media and social media track their words non-stop, just waiting for the awkwardness that will be blown up.

The columnist Simon Jodoin had fun defining the language of wood. And for that, he used the examples of François Legault and Justin Trudeau who make good use of formulas haloed with good feelings, but nevertheless empty.

He recalled the famous “In Quebec, that’s how we live! from the head of the CAQ. These formulas, if they have the ability to make people dream, lead nowhere. Once we’ve said that, what do we do?

Created in 2005, the Fight against the language of wood, which is the benefit evening of the Festival Phénomena and the company Les filles électriques, is led at arm’s length by D. Kimm. With an honorary committee chaired by Carole Laure, it organizes this evening every two years. Big job!

She told me that it was extremely difficult to recruit participants. We must therefore salute the courage of those who have taken to the stage (a thought for my colleague Marc Cassivi who bravely defended the profession of criticism while stage managers abound on social media and the world of the arts sees more than ever the traditional media as publicity organs).

I also highlight the audacity of the drag queen Barbada who turned into Mother Nature to tell us her disappointment to see that we have not learned any lessons from the pandemic. Sébastien Potvin suddenly proved that a drag queen could also think.

I particularly liked Benoit Chartier, who, much like the shows did I love Hydro and milk run, spoke of the extreme stupidity of the exploitation of our water reserves by foreign multinationals. He concluded by pointing out the surrealism surrounding the water from Fiji that is sent to us and sold in plastic bottles while we offer ours for peanuts. Absolutely enjoyable!

I was not convinced that this evening was going to delight me (Carole Laure is a convincing woman to whom it is difficult to say no). Despite the excellent ticket agents that we hear at Jean-Philippe Wauthier and Marie-Louise Arsenault on the radio, despite the countless columnist colleagues in the newspapers, despite the debaters parading on television, the language of wood needs more than ever to be countered.

Because through this fight, we are reminded that human beings still want to think. And that is rather reassuring.