It was a daring bet. Find a couple to embody on stage, in voice, but also in electricity, the mythical duo that still form in the collective imagination Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner, in the title roles of Rachel Marron and Frank Farmer, in the cult film of 1990s The Bodyguard.
Electricity, there was all the same in the air, on arrival at the St-Denis Theater at the premiere of the musical Le bodyguard last week, an evening ironically of almost general blackout in town. In the street, and a few steps from the theater, the voice of the one we would hear next for a good 90 minutes was already resounding.
Recall that the film by Mick Jackson, which tells the story of an ex-Secret Service agent converted into a bodyguard, called against his will to protect a superstar from a mysterious stalker, has been adapted into a musical all over the world. the world. We owe this new, very Quebec version to director Joël Legendre, who has never hidden having searched a long time to find “his” Whitney.
If it lacks a bit of panache at the start of the show (with a somewhat static Queen of the Night, despite a show of lights that dazzles the eye), it gains confidence over the numbers, in natural too, and concludes in force in a final high in glitter, in voice (and what a voice!) and in tremolos. The resemblance is striking. Finally, we feel the long-awaited chills.
It must be said that we believed in it moderately at the beginning, as her character of Rachel Marron struggled to stand out on stage, despite a solid team of dancers with her, undoubtedly suffering from the comparison, alongside the sister (Nicki Marron, another irony, since it’s the exact opposite in the story), embodied here by a powerful Sharon James (Mamma Mia!), gripping with emotion in her interpretation of Saving All My Love for You.
It is ultimately and against all odds his playing partner (who also plays so little), Frédérick De Grandpré, who suffers the most from the comparison. Let’s face it, the jacket does not make the bodyguard, and his Frank Farmer does not exude any of the charm of a Kevin Costner. The mayonnaise simply does not take, and it is difficult to believe their story, the game remaining too cold and awkward. Forget electricity, there is none.
The dialogues, often hasty, rendered in one corner or the other of the stage without much conviction, do nothing to help the cause. Except, it should be emphasized, those of the very realistic and comic Tony (Normand Carrière). It is also impossible to ignore the garish decorations (how can we forget them?), made with the help of colored projections. Was it necessary to outline in such broad strokes here the living room, there the theater, or even a garden, palm trees parading in the wind before our eyes included? One wonders if it is at best caricatural, at worst in questionable taste.
These digested flats, impossible to deny: the dancers, directed by Steve Bolton, bring a dynamism and a notable quality to the show. Special mention to the character of the stalker, embodied by Tommy Durand (noted in Revolution), with appearances often in the shadows but always magnetic, as graceful as they are disturbing.
A word to finish on the young character of Fletcher, the son of Rachel Marron, played by an endearing Roman Viau Diadhiou, who has rhythm in his skin. And in tone. His game is always warmly praised, and it is frankly deserved.
If not, what to say? Fans of Whitney Houston will undoubtedly find their account in this production all the same vitaminized, in spite of salty tickets. The others have little reason to dwell on it.
