In this brilliant re-reading of Misanthrope, by Rebekka Kricheldorf, Sylvie Drapeau leads the way as an uncompromising critic who is both feared and hated. A piece that tackles with piquancy the question of the sincerity of our social, friendly and even intimate relationships.
Posted at 2:36 p.m.
Like Molière’s famous character, Alceste, Agnès (Sylvie Drapeau) denounces the hypocrisy and lies practiced on a large scale around her, in particular in the cultural world that she is close to.
From the first seconds, the charismatic actress sets up her game and pours out her gall in an icy monologue. Memorable.
You see, the best-selling author turned cultural critic makes no compromises and spares no one – not even her son, leader of the Orlandos group (Félix Lahaye). To hell with sycophancy and pretense, if it’s shit, it has to be said, precisely “because art is sacred”. It’s a matter of respect (your humble servant takes note).
Will the artists and directors present in the room agree with her? We guess that some of them will laugh yellow…
There is of course the way of saying things, and on this point, the character of Agnès does not go there with the back of the spoon. Her fierce misanthropy leads her down uncompromising paths where her wickedness dominates – suffered by her children Fanny and Orlando, at the forefront of her harsh criticism.
One would be tempted to draw parallels (scene by scene) with The misanthrope by Molière, but then we would be lost… Suffice it to say that in the same way that Alceste fell in love with the young Célimène, Agnès also has an ingenuous young lover, Sascha (Luc Chandonnet), who has a lot of (too) successful with young girls and questioning their privileges (it’s fashionable).
Unlike Agnès, this Sascha likes people, and it is her sincerity – in addition to her physical attributes – that will seduce her protege. But this beacon in the night will not shine for long. Unlike other adaptations – like the movie Alceste in bycicle – where there is a certain hope in humanity, Kricheldorf opts for a misanthrope who delights in darkness.
PHOTO PROVIDED BY PROSPERO THEATER
Sylvie Drapeau embodies the character of Agnès. Above her, we see Nathalie Claude, in the enigmatic role of Elias.
The Quebec adaptation of this brilliant text by Rebekka Kricheldorf (Villa Dolorosa) is quite successful by Louis-Karl Tremblay, who also directs. A fluid layout (most of the time), quite minimalist (with a few beanbags for all furniture), which suffered from some technical problems with the lighting on Tuesday evening.
Sylvie Drapeau is very well surrounded. First by Stéphanie Cardi, convincing in the role of her daughter Fanny; Félix Lahaye, in the role of his son Orlando, who performs two high-flying singing numbers; and by Éric Bernier, whose character of Adrien, ex-lover of Agnès, multiplies the contradictions and becomes entangled in his lies.
The only downside: the presence of the character of Elias (played by Nathalie Claude), a sort of itinerant jester – who lives with Agnès and who remains faithful to her – who defines himself as a “thinker” and who questions the motivations of the characters… Is this Elias correspond to the valet of Alceste? It’s hard to say, but we haven’t seen the added value of this enigmatic character, who is very interested in the etymology of words.
It remains the main argument of Miss Agnes : Is all truth worth telling? Or should we, as the character of Fanny says, reinforce our fellow human beings with “philanthropic lies” so that society can function smoothly?
It’s up to you to take a stand. In the glossy world around us where lies and hypocrisy are kings, we can understand Agnès’ rage. We are even tempted to follow her in her revolt (which goes well beyond her role as a critic in fact). But then, admitting that we live in this hopeless world is no less scary…
More sincerity without resorting to nuclear weapons, shall we try that?
Miss Agnes
By Rebekka Kricheldorf. Adapted and directed by Louis-Karl Tremblay. With Sylvie Drapeau, Luc Chandonnet, Stéphanie Cardi, Éric Bernier, etc.
Prospero Theater