During my studies in ethnology, beyond my collection of tales, legends and folk songs across Quebec, I quickly understood that the artistic heritage made many of us blush with shame. The enchantment that this marvelous oral tradition gave me, along with the jigs and the rigodons, was darkened by it. Something precious was dissolving in indifference. Worse, in contempt. Over the years, collective amnesia has covered this collective baggage with a white coat. The “trad”, as they say, is served at Christmas and Saint-Jean before being repackaged in the bottom of the wood box. Exceptional musical and dancing groups make their careers above all in folklore festivals here and abroad. Otherwise, the radios ignore them, and their people with them. We hear immigrants scandalized by this disdain for roots, those who had cultivated a love of immaterial culture at home. We come across elderly people who hold valuable knowledge that is endangered. In Quebec, these chords, these songs, these steps still evoke the Great Darkness with its weight of obscurantism.
Lasting, this impression of living in a society born of the Quiet Revolution, forced to sweep the broom over the deeper imprints. We unconsciously carry so many generations on our backs, we might as well take our hats off to them. Through this beautiful folklore, the legacy of old France handed down from one generation to the next blends with Scottish reels and Irish violin. It is populated by stories of kings, Crusades, log drivers and First Nations, united on dance steps or capsized laments. The adventure of our occupation of these lands, and well before it, in successive layers, composes this treasure of survivals. Intangible traces scrutinized by ethnologists with the same attention that archaeologists give to artefacts discovered under stones then brought back to the light of day.
So when I went to see at the Théâtre d’Aujourd’hui not lost, by Anaïs Barbeau-Lavalette and Émile Proulx-Cloutier, this show on memory dazzled me. They had already staged remarkable scenic documentaries. This one has such grace, exudes so much emotion, with such endearing characters, such a deeply rooted plot thread, that it reaches the pinnacle of the genre. Eight non-actors play their own role, bound by a common passion for a traditional dance. Anaïs Barbeau-Lavalette (present on the boards) did burning interviews with them, served in the background. Émile Proulx-Cloutier’s staging reveals a rare elegance, accompanied by refined lighting and inspiring video projections.
And each character evokes his life, his profession, his joys and his dramas, by recreating everyday gestures on stage. Their existences would have been doomed to the shadows without the long quest of the authors, accompanied by hundreds of hours of recordings of which the cream remains. What fascinating journeys! Some also work with their hands, craftsmen and dancers at the same time, of various origins. Sometimes, steps of Quebec folklore survive thanks to people who came through the paths of immigration who perpetuate them.
An Anishinabé from Kitcisakik mixes them with those of his own tradition. An elderly craftsman kept this passion alive, alone in his garage, while caring for his sick wife. Young French-speaking Quebecers, discreetly infatuated at first with an art of memory for lack of interest shown by those around them, reveal themselves to us in full communicative ardor. Caregivers, speech therapists, artisans, students, video game enthusiasts, retirees and others testify to Quebec’s identity with poignant poetry and authenticity.
Suddenly, the public feels challenged in the theater, especially the many young people present in the room. Disinterested in this folklore of yesterday, many suddenly see it in a different light; endowed with a magic, a modernity, a humanity that brings it up to date. The two authors offer their society a burst of pride, becoming smugglers in turn by this show that ends on an apotheosis.
If you missed not lost, which runs to sold-out audiences until April 2, eight podcasts drawn from this process will be offered at the end of March on Radio-Canada’s OHdio platform. I highly recommend hearing it. For the depth of field, for the powerful remarks on the loss or the preservation of intangible heritage, for the generous testimonies of these everyday heroes. Wise to have, as Vigneault would sing, dancing at your feet and music in your ears.