This third opus by Anaïs Barbeau-Lavalette and Émile Proulx-Cloutier beautifully pursues the original form of “scenic documentaries” that the duo developed. As in the previous South Pole, Not lost emphasizes the spoken word and narrative of real-life protagonists, rather than fictional characters. A contrasting microcosm, made up of eight individuals of different ages, regions, social and professional backgrounds.
Creation draws a portrait steeped in humanity. From their open-hearted testimonies, recorded by the designer, emerge singular visions, like the one eloquently conveyed by Quentin, the young gamer, or gripping human dramas, such as the patient hard hit by an accident evoked by Elisabeth, the speech therapist, or the tragic past of Sylvain. But through this octet, of which we soon discover that all the members share the same interest, the show also becomes a plea for the continuity of a tradition, of a part of our heritage. An element that we agree not to name, the creators wishing to let the public the pleasure of discovering it themselves during the performance.
But let’s say that the intimate stories there sometimes echo this great theme, and that links are revealed between the various stories, a mosaic that is both heterogeneous and cohesive. This show, which highlights the importance of collective memory, opens, for example, with the story of Réal, whose wife suffers from Alzheimer’s. A reflection on death, loss also seems to run through the room.
Not lost charts a narrative course that ultimately turns out to be illuminating and full of meaning, a progression that leads us to revise our view of the central element of the show. The order of succession of the protagonists gradually reveals a more diversified environment than one could imagine, widening its stereotyped representation.
joyful fellowship
On the formal level, the creation staged by Proulx-Cloutier is just as neat. There is beauty in the lighting design by Mathieu Roy, who plays with shadows, and the 2D animation by Marielle Dalpé, who brings to life the faces of absent people. The scenography by Julie Vallée-Léger makes it possible to portray the reduced environments composed especially for each protagonist, seized in their activities. In particular the manufacture of objects, to which the patient and attentive gestures of the participants confer a precious character.
By turns touching or driving, Not lost thus paints the portrait of a community, of a collectivity brought together by a common passion. We can see, in the final scenes, these beings from various backgrounds indulge in it in communion, and with obvious pleasure. What can only rejoice, in our era of exacerbated polarization, where for two years the other has become threatening or incomprehensible. A show that warms the heart.