Molière et moi

Le Google Doodle d'aujourd'hui rend hommage à Molière, dont ce sera l'anniversaire de la mort le 17 février. Ça me rappelle des souvenirs de l'université, où j'ai lu Molière, mais aussi où je l'ai joué. J'ai en effet joué le rôle de Purgon dans Le malade imaginaire. Autre anniversaire à souligner: la première était le 10 février 1673. Ça m'a donné le goût des planches. Molière, c'est en le jouant que j'ai vraiment appris à l'apprécier. Cela dit, je l'ai trop peu lu et trop peu vu, alors il faudra aussi que je corrige ça.

Saint David's Day and me

First and foremost, for those who do not know, the first of March is of course Saint David's Day, the national day of Wales, because Saint David is their patron saint. Google commemorated it with an absolutely magnificent Doodle, with the Welsh red dragon hanging on the L and daffodils. I had to share it. I owe a lot to Welsh culture, being specialized in medieval Arthurian literature. The most vivid memory I have of Saint David's Day comes from when I was at uni, doing an amateur production of Le malade imaginaire. Many of the cast were Welsh. At the end of the performance, each threw daffodils at the crowd, wearing a Welsh flag. I remember it to this day and at that moment I wished I had been Welsh. I loved their flag so much that I bought one, which is now somewhere at my parents' home. I wish I could have it here today.

La chute du Dom Juan de Molière

Ah! mes gages! mes gages! Voilà par sa mort un chacun satisfait, Ciel offensé, lois violées, filles séduites, familles déshonorées, parents outragés, femmes mises à mal, maris poussés à bout, tout le monde est content ; il n’y a que moi seul de malheureux, qui après tant d’années de service, n’ai point d’autre récompense que de voir à mes yeux l’impiété de mon maître, punie par le plus épouvantable châtiment du monde. Mes gages! mes gages! mes gages!

Je sais que je sui un peu monomaniaque, après avoir blogué sur Don Giovanni, je blogue encore sur Don Juan, mais celui de Molière. Qui s'écrit Dom Juan. Avec un m. Je l'ai lu plusieurs années après avoir découvert l'opéra, simplement pour connaître ce que je croyais être la source de l'oeuvre. Il faudra bien un jour que je lise l'original de Tirso de Molina. Vous devinez que j'ai développé une certaine obsession sur le personnage de Don Juan. Mais pour moi et jusqu'ici, le libretto de Lorenzo da Ponte demeure l'interprétation définitive du personnage. À la lecture de la pièce, j'étais par ailleurs assez déçu. Il manquait quelque chose, je ne sais encore pas quoi. Cela dit, le dernier acte et la chute, avec les derniers mots de Sganarelle, j'avais trouvé ça très fort. Et ce soir ces mots me hantent, comme ils le font parfois. Il va me falloir revisiter la pièce aussi.

The acting gene?

I was speaking to my mother yesterday, telling her how much I missed acting and being on the stage and she wondered where I got my talent for acting. Her (flattering) words, even though she very rarely saw me on stage and I think the last time she heard me acting was for that radio play two years ago. She told me that she was terribly shy as a child and that for a school play she had ran away from the stage. I am terribly shy too and I remember my first performance at uni: my legs were shaking, I thought I would collapse on the stage. It did not happen though, and I carried through the role. It was only a few lines: I was playing Purgon in Le malade imaginaire. But the lecturer and stage director had told me after the very first rehearsal that I was a natural. When I took acting classes later, I learned that being a natural means very little: you need to develop your talent if you want it to become a craft. Something I have never done enough. Nevertheless, I do think I have at least some talent, some natural skill for acting. And I wonder where I got it from.

I miss the stage

Okay, this is another nostalgic entry. I didn't know when to write it, but this is a rainy Sunday and it is just a good time as any. I used to do acting, a long, long time ago. I started it by chance, the production of the French play at university was short of one actor to play the role of Purgon in Le Malade imaginaire. It was just a few lines, so I decided to go along. I got hooked. The next year I got a much more important role (in Ionesco's Rhinocéros, where I had to change into a rhino in Act II) and then I got the main part in La Farce de maître Pierre Pathelin the following year. I was pretty good, maybe even talented, enough to get some acting lessons in Montreal, where I learned that talent is one thing, but you need to work very hard to become professional. I didn't pursue my career, but I loved, loved, loved the experience and I often miss it.

In my life, I have been attracted by two performing arts: opera and acting. There is a pleasure about getting on stage and playing a character, making an audience connect to you emotionally that is exhilarating. I said acting is very hard, but it can really easy in some aspects. Memorising the lines was for me a piece of cake: you just have to read them often enough, and besides a character gets in your body, literally, so the lines come naturally enough, if you can get into the character (or, more accurately, if you can get the character to be in you). Now, getting the emotions right and interacting naturally with the cast, that's trickier. But in the end, when you are in front of an audience and it works, there is nothing more satisfying than that. And that is why I miss the stage.