A keen observer of the (hostile) world around her, comedian Maude Landry shared on Tuesday – in her first one woman show – her anxieties, obsessive thoughts and other often astonishing reflections, in a sort of homage to difference, which she perfectly embodies. And which made the happiness of the public who came to meet him.
Her humor, both strange and quirky, by virtue of which she fears neither discomfort nor moments of hesitation, evokes the universe of Klô Pelgag; his way of dissecting words or expressions and reflecting on the deep meaning of things – which is sometimes absolutely not deep! – reminds us of André Sauvé; while his prettily absurd ditties flirt with the universe of the Trois Accords.
But any comparison is a lame exercise, because Maude Landry is in a class by herself. We can even speak of a formidable discovery – not surprising that it won the Olivier for the revelation of the year.
Take, for example, his appearance on stage – in headphones and in skateboard : she will question it. What if she had entered only with her helmet on? After all, our heads are fragile, aren’t they? She will talk later about her make-up, and her opposition to products tested on animals, before admitting that she hasn’t found any photos of made-up animals… See the tone?
No, Maude Landry does not make people laugh like the others. She gently drags us into her hamster wheel, until we start spinning on it, along with her.
It will, for example, promote reading. “Like a movie, but it happens really slowly…” The advantage? “You can do your own script, with the actors you want. “A segment that will give rise to some beautiful delusions. The comedian says he is on the spectrum and lives with many disorders. “There’s too much stuff in my head, I have to have a garage sale…”
This profile makes her intriguing and, despite a written text – with Simon Delisle – gives us an impression of unpredictability, which is always an asset.
In Involution – which refers to withdrawal or regression – Maude Landry explores, among other things, her anxiety, with a little scowl. “It’s like having a survivalist friend all the time,” she says. When he’s not there, it feels good…” When she talks about her lack of enthusiasm for playing sports, she says, always with her tongue-in-cheek humour: “Sometimes, I’m sitting, and I feel like sitting down…”
This is a bit of what fires Maude Landry. We don’t laugh while slapping our thighs, but we find ourselves thinking with her about the meaning of the words “outdoors”, and we smile. It’s not nothing.
Her musical interlude, during which she grabs her guitar and sings absurd pieces where, among other things, it is a question of a unicorn with no horn, is the perfect icing to pay homage “to those who feel different”. In the end, we are even surprised to have jumped into her little wheel without having resisted – like the majority of the spectators who cheered her on Tuesday.
The important thing, of course, is now to get off the wheel.
Involution
On tour everywhere in Quebec.