The chronicle of Odile Tremblay: the cursed film of Jean-Claude Lord

I remember the shock caused by the excellent as well as brutal satire tell us about love by Jean-Claude Lord, discovered years after its creation on my small screen. Its strength, its truth, its imposing distribution as its infinite cruelty in the exploration of the slides of the show-business remain engraved with the hot iron. The scene of a woman in the audience being asked to undress to everyone’s laughter comes back to me since the filmmaker’s death. The genesis of this film and the tomatoes received by the team when it was released in 1976 also speak volumes about the vibrant and carefree era that gave birth to it.

In Quebec, many artists then fueled idealism, rebellion against a rotten system to be denounced loud and clear. For its part, television took over from religion by channeling the emotions of the crowds into its image box. But variety shows were often snubbed by the very people who pulled the strings. The sexual exploitation of young actresses, various corruptions and cynicism at all costs raged there in the trembling shadow. The XXIand century did not invent anything.

It took courage, recklessness or a little of both to denounce these productions which brought to life a whole artistic fauna and allowed the population to attend their favorite shows in the studio. Same topo today on various TV sets, except that the eye of the spectator then retained a candor in front of the small screen, now lost.

Jacques Boulanger, animator and singer, was at the height of glory. At Radio-Canada, his daily program Boubou carded. Women, especially, came from the suburbs to watch the show and admire their handsome host. However, under his good-natured exterior, Boulanger felt disgusted by a cynical, corrupt and contemptuous profession towards the public. Already in contact with Jean-Claude Lord, he had given him cassettes of recordings testifying to the turpitudes of the industry. The screenplay for the film fell to none other than Michel Tremblay, who responded to these smoking revelations. Jacques Boulanger, under the name of Jeannot, took on the big screen the role of host of a show similar to his.

What teems and frogs

The master builders of tell us about love wanted to show what swarms and frogs when mouths open, all cameras off. Without foreseeing the repercussions of these warnings to the public.

Thunder and lightning! His fans could never have imagined their Boubou in the skin of the cynical Mephisto of this film. tell us about love seemed so stuck to his reality that actor and model were confused in the eyes of all. Down with the renegade! Not only did the entire world of television and the media rebel against the filmmaker who threw their four truths in their face, but the public’s bond of trust with Jacques Boulanger was shaken. He was sent to the radio for a while, before making a virtue again…

At least the era sometimes gave birth to courageous projects, even if the spectators and the film industry showbiz were not ready to digest them. Could such a film see the light of day today? Not with that interpreter who put his head on the block. An unthinkable position at a time when the brand image of a public figure is measured by algorithms. Marketing specialists would have warned Jacques Boulanger: don’t play in it! With a less involved main actor, the message would have been better conveyed to the public, while losing realism of course.

Social media

If they had foreseen the storm – which at the time would not have resulted in any social debate, a real wet firecracker – neither Lord, nor Tremblay, nor Boulanger would undoubtedly have launched an assault on the mills in this way. Suddenly, the seventh Quebec art would have been orphaned by this black pearl with glaucous shards. Restored by Elephant in 2014, the cinematic bomb has found a new generation of spectators, who savor its second degree and exchange the ferocity of the replicas like ping-pong balls.

Still, a contemporary film making such fun of the public would no longer be perceived as acceptable. Social media would scream class contempt, and not without reason. A new tell us about love would cause more turmoil than yesterday, there is no doubt about it. What do the artisans of today’s variety shows think, behind closed doors? Do they respect their audience in chorus or does he manipulate it together? Who among them would want to spit in the soup by sharing behind-the-scenes secrets, under penalty of depriving themselves of food? A spontaneity has been lost over the years. Likewise, a spirit of rebellion against a system that swallows so many discordant voices in turn.

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