LE DORTOIR
Chicago has nothing like Montreal’s Carbone 14. Few cities do, I suppose–rarely will you see theatrical images this imaginatively conceived, grandly designed, and expertly executed. Le dortoir (“The Dormitory”), created by artistic director Gilles Maheu in 1988, exemplifies the kind of exquisite craftsmanship that has rightfully garnered Carbone 14 its world-class status.
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Maheu’s design is paradoxically both specific and placeless. While everything in the room is real–an old fire extinguisher on the wall, a radiator and sink tucked into a nook upstage–the elements have been so carefully selected and arranged that the room acquires a transcendent beauty, lifting it to the realm of metaphor. The room is like a memory, based in the real world but forever distant.
The first half is a playful, and at times horrifying, exploration of life in this dormitory. Some sequences are endearingly innocent: the prankster of the group, who stuffs a sock in a sleeping friend’s mouth, jumps around the room with his underwear on his head until the nun enters and catches him. Other scenes are shockingly unchildlike: the beds are tipped on end, and the women twist about on them as if being tortured. As in a dream, reality is fluid, and events are at once ordinary and mysterious. Throughout, the performers exhibit extraordinary physical control and a deep commitment to the material.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/Yves Dube.
