Hugo pop! | The theory of the great reversal

Unlike Lara Fabian, who has still believed in it since 2001, I had no hope for three of the four couples who landed in the office of therapist Louise Sigouin a month ago.

Madeleine and Michel, aged 73 and 72, that doesn’t count. Their relationship won’t fall apart because of a botched puzzle, a smelly thrift store, or a walking stick decorated with a duck’s bill. We feel them solid and open, both in body and in mind.

For the other six participants of If we still loved each other at VAT, oh boy, their wounds seemed deep and incurable. Keven and Stephanie, I mean, who recovers from such a B-horror movie that involves garage surveillance cameras, a mistress godmother and trashy text messages?

Stuck on their Montreal mini-balcony, Christelle and Gino were pitiful. Depression, verbal abuse, suicide attempt, damaged self-esteem, alcoholism and vaping addiction, the menu of things to fix was as full as the two commentators’ bowl of popcorn.

For Kathy and Guillaume, both 30 years old, the impending breakup loomed like a mandala on a day of anxiety. Unable to stop the hamster wheel that was spinning fast, fast in his head, Guillaume exploded and froze his face, while Kathy suffered.

Then the magic of Louise and her five dualities worked. We felt the wind turning and the tide turning on the path to emotional autonomy.

First, Christelle, 39, an internship assistant at a Montreal university, won $178,000 in the lottery. This unreal scene, shot in a donut-barbecue boat, seemed scripted because this gain was so unexpected and unexpected.

The tension then dropped several notches between them. Christelle gave half of the money to Gino, who will treat himself to orthodontic treatment to improve his smile which has always made him self-conscious. It was honestly moving. I write it without irony. Just like the sequence on Wednesday where Gino, 48, flattered a horse that had been beaten and tortured, as if he was consoling the mistreated young Gino that he was.

I hate therapists who insist, with a bowed head, on Christie healing her inner child. What would you say to little Hugo at the time, eh? Probably: Braille, you will pee less! But in Gino’s case, the gesture was calming, so it’s okay. For this time.

Landscaping contractor Guillaume took medication which calmed his anxieties and allowed him to get his head above water. The flow goes better with Kathy, even if there are still many obstacles on the road to perfect head-heart-body alignment.

As for Keven and Stéphanie, I have a hard time believing in their marital happiness found on the terrace of the Warwick Le Crystal hotel in Montreal. The baby tone they use to talk to each other sounds so fake. Especially in the mouth of Keven, who would say anything to make amends with Stéphanie.

I love you. You have beautiful stars in your eyes. I love you.

Inevitably, Keven returns the favor to Stephanie: Do you love me too? Did you put a photo of me in your album? All asked as if he were speaking to a 6 year old child.

Stéphanie’s visit to the “hypnotist” resulted in a spiritual-literary metaphor whose meaning was not understood by everyone involved, I think. Louise Sigouin quickly corrected Stéphanie by referring to the hypnotherapist, and not the hypnotist, whom she consulted. Still, we are not in a show by Messmer.

Then the hypnotherapist asked Stéphanie to close, in her subconscious, the book of her past traumas. “You are now in this very specific place, you can take the opportunity to find this famous album and make sure that the album is properly closed,” cooed the hypnotist, er, the hypnotherapist.

Honestly, I would have taken a whole episode about Stephanie’s deep dive into her personal bookstore, where she stored the traumatic album – she said “an album” at least 12 times – at the very bottom of her bookshelf.

But beware. This type of hypnotic journey is done by two people, warned the hypnotherapist. Perfect. So, I’m not going with Madeleine, because a) she uses portals to move from one dimension to another and b) she leaves without GPS or phone and that’s the perfect recipe for the chicanery of the century.