It is to the giggles of the child spectators that Norman advances in front of the stage while spinning. “For the first time, he and his dress are pointing their noses outside. » Proud to wear this garment to go to school, he recounts in eight acts the crossing which will not be easy.
Laughter, mockery, sideways glances, judgments whispered by onlookers and other extras of this perfect suburb, those around Norman (Quentin Chaveriat) are not prepared to receive or accept this little boy thus “disguised”. An only child, he does not have, at least initially, the approval of his parents. “At 7 years old, we are already a man and, if not, we must start pretending,” says his father (Antoine Cogniaux) with a detached air. “The color pink hides great suffering […] It’s makeup, pink,” adds her mother (Deborah Marchal) with conviction.
Produced by the Brussels theater Kosmocompany, Norman is like normal, except for one letter is an ode to difference, to the search and acceptance of oneself, but above all to the freedom to be. The author Marie Henry manages, with enviable finesse, to speak intelligently about diversity without ever falling into morality, didacticism or, worse, the conventional. She has the art of seizing a popular subject and making theater out of it. Not a pamphlet on difference presented head-on, as we see too often, but theater magnifying the features, overflowing the frame, offering above all a story as crazy as it is touching.
Narrated in the third person, the text is carried by an uninhibited, humorous, deadpan writing, by the repetition of words, sentences, by spelling which make it possible to emphasize certain ideas while creating hilarity in the room.
Crescendo of well-being
The whole thing would of course not be as meaningful without the versatility and precision of the three actors’ performances. Quentin Chaveriat plays a candid, shy Norman, but at the same time overflowing with vivacity, offering a whole and entirely credible character. Antoine Cogniaux takes turns with apparent ease in the roles of the father, a contemptuous passerby, a professor and other figures as different as they are hilarious. Deborah Marchal performs with equal ease a series of distinct roles, but remains admirably powerful in that of the “big aunt”, the father’s sister.
Divided into eight acts, the story is carried by music and dance, which not only serve the purpose, but become an integral part, inseparable from the characters and the story. Each act is practically equivalent to a performance, so much so that the spectators, completely absorbed by this colorful staging, applaud, stamp their feet, participate in this crossing which will lead Norman, his father, his mother and his aunt to a good -be assumed.
The timid snickers at the beginning heard when THE Duty attended the play at the Les Gros Becs theater in Quebec, quickly giving way to frank, encouraging laughter, to applause felt until this finale where madness presents on stage, this desire to be oneself without hindrance, is more than contagious. Rare and fabulous theatrical moment.