Drama turns assumptions inside out

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This article was published 22/11/2019 (2160 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

They say the best laid plans often go awry. It turns out, so do the best parties.

A party for a family of Syrian refugees devolves into disaster before the guests even arrive in Dis Merci, an uneven but compelling drama that opened Thursday at Théâtre Cercle Molière.

The play begins at the apartment of a man named Marc (Marc Barakat). He’s in the middle of baking a cake for the party he is co-hosting with his neighbours.

A hint of things to come is dropped early in the evening when Marc accidentally cracks eggshells in the cake batter and simply continues on making the cake. What follows is an intermission-free 80-minute production directed by Catherine Bourgeois that depicts an absolute party from hell.

While the co-hosts are well-intentioned, they also arrive at the party with unshakeable prejudices and assumptions about the family they are about to greet… and about each other.

Hubert (Hubert Lemire), a Caucasian man in his 30s, is frustrated by political correctness. In a monologue that is likely either tragic or absurd depending on your lived experience, he laments the loss of his privilege to outstanding comedic effect.

Meanwhile Emma-Kate (Emma-Kate Guimond), a Caucasian woman, expresses herself through movement and what she wears. At one point, she blends into the room dressed as a lampshade. She’s often decorative and frequently submissive to the men around her.

Lastly there is Papy, played by the impossibly charming Papy Maurice Mbwiti. He’s a black man from Congo who comes armed with four important tips for the refugee family on how to fit in in their new home. Dressed in a fashionable suit and presenting a pleasant disposition, he embodies and performs a role through much of the show: the role of the “good” black man.

Papy’s tips are as follows: 1. Take your place. 2. Blend in with the scenery. 3. Toe the line. 4. Obey. Over the course of the party, each of the four characters navigate these rules within the social framework in which they exist.

The tableaux focus on topics such as the inherent power dynamics between the characters, the concept of property ownership and the commodification of human beings under a capitalist society.

There’s not much in the way of casual small talk. It’s a heavy drama with heavy material, but it is not without humour. Much of the comedy in Dis Merci comes from the clash of power among these four characters and watching that dynamic get uprooted and reconfigured.

For theatregoers used to holding a position of privilege, it’s likely to be an unsettling experience, but for those of us who often occupy the position of the “other” in these spaces, it’s a breath of fresh air.

Dis Merci is at its best when it pushes the boundaries of the absurd and when it shifts into abstraction. It’s especially strong in its movement work, which conveys the tension of power in a more visceral way than language can.

As a collaborative creation written by Pénélope Bourque, the play does suffer from a lack of focus, which makes it hard to connect or find an emotional way into the story. It can also be hard to follow as it shifts quickly from scene to scene and from one modality to another.

It also falters occasionally in its tempo, which can read as unpolished and under-rehearsed. The pauses and halts in the play most often come from Barakat, an actor who lives with a mild intellectual disability and tremors.

At first I found myself frustrated by Barakat’s performance and the unexpected pacing he brought to each scene, but once I set my assumptions aside, I began to realize and appreciate just how vivid and truthful his performance was.

And that’s what Dis Merci is all about. It reminds us to set aside our egos and expectations and be present in the moment, whether we’re at the theatre, at a party or navigating the rapidly changing norms of a country that has never been what people assumed it was.

Frances.Koncan@freepress.mb.ca

Twitter: @franceskoncan