“Hey, we should put on a show! »
It was on this whim, half-naive, half-idealistic, that Marie-Joanne Boucher suggested to Jean-Marc Dalphond that they embark on an unusual theatrical project, quite ambitious thank you, bordering on daredevil: the killing of Polytechnic.
You had to be a little crazy to accept, and have pretty strong nerves, too. Five years later, the fruit of their investigative work – monumental, with no less than 100 interviews under the belt – is finally ripe for the stage, in a production by Marie-Josée Bastien.
The subject is violent, as we know, stirring, borderline unbearable, even if it dates back more than 30 years. Let’s say that in these times, when the world is on fire, Quebec is at half-mast, the public service on the verge of a strike that is said to be historic, we have seen a gentler proposition.
In short, take it for granted, and hold on, because the journey is challenging. We don’t come out unscathed. Definitely stunned. Almost dizzy, with so much he will say, during these three hours of interviews, testimonies, analyzes and varied reflections.
Because that’s what Projet Polytechnique is: the fruit of the investigation by Marie‑Joanne Boucher and Jean-Marc Dalphond (who lost his cousin Anne-Marie Edward in the killing), to understand the underside of a gesture a priori incomprehensible. Among other big questions asked: why so much hatred, how is it still so easy to obtain weapons, who are these men who worship Marc Lépine to this day?
From the front, the piece even dares to ask: can we talk to each other? Outright: can we forgive?
The idea was born on December 6, when Jean-Marc Dalphond published, like every birthday, the list of names of the 14 victims on his social networks. He is upset by several hateful messages received. At the same time, Marie-Joanne Boucher also published a word of hope this time, accompanied by the photo of her son, so that such a massacre never happens again. United by a shared desire to understand, even if they do not always agree on the approach to follow (and this is what makes the proposal all the more promising), they dive in.
Hand in hand, the two actors, who authentically play their own roles on stage (screams and tears included, with a few touches of humor to sensitively lighten the whole thing, a welcome idea that we salute), they attack from every possible angle, from the gun registry to the roots of the masculinist movement to the delicate issue of mental health, hatred towards women, and hatred in general.
We will recognize here the proven formula of Porte Parole in the tone, but also the form, with a sequence of paintings in a refined setting (a few projections on a curtain are enough to immerse us in the hidden web or remind us of the names of the 14 victims) and the speaking of diverse, deliberately antagonistic speakers, played here by a chorus of actors.
In a skillful and dynamic staging, with just enough music, and magnificent play of shadows and lights, they will embody, in rhythm and loosely: Nathalie Provost (a survivor involved in the fight for control of firearms), Guy Morin (president of All against a Quebec firearms registry), the former police chief Jacques Duchesneau, the researcher Léa Clermont-Dion and the anti-feminist Jean-Claude Rochefort, fervent admirer of Marc Lépine, among others. Without forgetting the presence, like shadows (angels?), of the 14 victims, who will cross the stage furtively here and there.
Was it necessary to include Alexandre Bissonnette in the portrait, he who could be the subject of a piece in his own right? What is the connection with femicides, especially? Does the chapter, as upsetting as it may be, surrounding a sexual assault denounced here, after so many years of silence, really have its place?
By casting such a wide net, the point is somewhat drowned out. We look in vain for the famous underlying “burning question”, finally brought back head-on, and in the grand finale, like a punch. And yes, it works, like a piece that has not finished inhabiting us.
