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THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM IN THE THEATRE
OF MICHEL TREMBLAY

by

Katharine M. Dennis

A DISSERTATION

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

Department of Romance and Classical Languages

1989

 

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ABSTRACT

THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM IN THE THEATRE
OF MICHEL TREMBLAY

BY
Katharine M. Dennis

This study explores the problem of freedom as interpreted by Michel
Tremblay in nine plays from his figllg§;§ggu;§ cycle. An introductory
overview of Quebec's history and literature presents evidence of an
authoritarian social order which, from the mid-nineteenth century until
the Quiet Revolution, gradually sapped Quebec's vitality in the name of
"la survivance.’ The plays, written between 1965 and 1984, are then
analyzed to show how Tremblay portrayed the effects of authoritarianism,
and the progress of individuals toward self-affirmation and the exercise
of freedom.

Tremblay's early plays depicted alienated men and women whose lives
are defined by roles. Further weakened by authoritarian relationships
that foster dependence, and by a philosophy of dualism which teaches
sexual repression, these individuals lack a clear sense of self. A few
rebels refuse their socially assigned roles, only to adopt others which
are equally limiting. In 1971 Tremblay introduced the first of several
characters who, despite society's deceptive language and images, uncover
basic truths about themselves and others. Discarding traditional roles
and gender distinctions, they exercise personal freedom; the
authoritarian system remains powerful, however, able to crush the
defiant individual who encourages the weak and dispossessed to become

more independent.

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In 1977, Tremblay initiated a series of novels which reveal the
backgrounds of characters in the plays. He returned to the play cycle
in. 1984 to portray a woman's successful struggle to unify a repressed
and. divided self. Helped.by a society which values the individual and
‘promotes personal freedom, the protagonist accepts the past and achieves
social integration as a self-directed, independent person. Through
techniques drawn from the classical theatre and the theatre of the
absurd, Tremblay encourages audiences to look and listen with fresh

attention as he depicts Quebec's experience of a universal problem, the

exercise of freedom.

x995?! .

Copyright by
KATHARINE M. DENNIS

1989

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am indebted to many persons for invaluable assistance during my
graduate studies: Professor Georges Joyaux, whose course in the
literature of Quebec introduced me to the works of Michel Tremblay, and
with whom I began my dissertation; Professor Joseph Donohoe, who took
over the duties of dissertation director following the retirement of
Professor Joyaux; Professors Ann Harrison and John Ferres, who also
served on the dissertation committee; and Professor Arthur Athanason,
who was the outside reader. My program of studies was further enriched
by the Canadian Studies Center which, with support from the Canadian and
Quebec governments, sponsors stimulating conferences and lectures, and
by the University's educational television service, which makes
available evening news programs in French from Radio Canada. Finally,
to my husband Frank, heartfelt thanks for his love and encouragement

during this "tres long voyage."

r Mam

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction .

PART I
The

Problem of Freedom: An Overview of Quebec's History

and Literature

PART II
The

1.

PART III

PART IV
The

l.

2.

Family: Vicious Circle of Self-deception and Dependence

Le§_fiellg§;§2§n:§: Vestiges of the Traditional
Quebec Family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

En_£i§g§§_g§§§§hg§§: The Disintegration of the
Family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

We: Disguising Dependence

Breaking the Family Circle: Self-discovery and
Responsible Freedom

- : The Destruction
of "la cellule familiale” and the Emergence of the
Individual .

Hosanna: Replacing Social Roles with Personal
Relationships . . . . . . . . . . . .
fignigu;*_13‘_hgnlgnz Surviving Family Bondage,
Reviving Family Bonds . . . . . . . . . . .

Artist, Integrity, and Society

mm: The Impossible Role .

W: Body and Soul.
Playwright and Novelist . . . . . . . .

vi

12

42

75

94

111

134

154

175

199

 

 

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TABLE OF CONTENTS (continued)

PART V
Self-knowledge and Independence in the New Quebec

1. AW: From "Continuer" to
'Choisir"

Conclusion

Bibliography

vii

223

266

278

Introduction

Michel Tremblay made his debut on the Quebec literary scene in 1964
with a one-act play, Lg_Igain, which won first prize in Radio Canada's
Young Authors' Competition. His first major play, Lg§__§gllg§;§ggg;§,
was produced in 1968, when it was the theatrical event of the Montreal
season. In addition to the plays which now make up the cycle of the
fig112§;§gguz§ and the related novels in the ghrggigges gu Plateau Mont-
nggl, Tremblay has published other plays and novels, a collection of
short stories, and adaptations of plays by classical and contemporary
authors. Regularly performed in Canada, and especially in Quebec,
Tremblay's theatre is steadily reaching new audiences. In November
1986, as his twenty-seventh book was being published in Quebec, several
works from his play cycle were being produced in theatres from Sweden to
Japan, and a series for British television was under way.

In the beginning, Tremblay did not anticipate the creation of a
fictional universe, with interrelated and recurring characters through
whom he would explore the problem of personal freedom. This "universe,"
the world of the hellg§;§g§gzg, grew out of Tremblay's realistic, yet
imaginative portrayal of life on the Plateau Mont-Royal, the working-
class Montreal neighborhood where he was born and grew up. Alternately
focusing on family life on the residential rue Fabre and the activities

of the Main, Montreal's nightclub district, Tremblay revealed that

despite their widely divergent lifestyles, his characters were all

 

 

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confined by a traditional ideology which denied human freedom.
Nevertheless, as one play followed another, characters began to rebel
against their dehumanizing situation, and to seek their own voices and
places in society. In 1977 Tremblay announced that the cycle was
complete, and began work on the first of the ghzgnigugg.

In less than ten years Michel Tremblay had earned a reputation as
one of Quebec's leading playwrights, and few would argue with critic
Zelda Heller that L§§_fig11g§;§ggg;§ marked a "turning point in Quebec
theatre, in Quebec literature, even in Quebec thinking."1 Not that the
response had always been favorable--Tremblay's use of coarse, profane
legal or Quebécois, as it is now called, was highly controversial,
especially in the beginning. 'Je ne suis pas bigot de nature, mais je
dois bien.avouer que c'est la premiere fois de ma vie que j'entends en
une seule soirée autant de sacres, de jurons, de mots orduriers de
toilette,“ objected Martial Dassylva in his review of the play's

premiere.2 Others argued that however offensive the language might be,

it was unquestionably appropriate. "Sans le joual, Germaine Lauzon
n’existerait pas, Le§_fig11g§;§ggu;§ n'existeraient pas,” wrote Laurent

Mailhot.3 Whether they liked it or not, Quebec audiences heard
themselves as they never had before. They also saw themselves in new
ways, for the play's realism was undeniable: "tout ce qu'il dit est
VRAI, plus vrai que nature," wrote one critic; "elle (la piece) nous
permet de nous voir comme dans un miroir,” wrote another.4 And when
the mirror failed to reflect the image of the traditional Quebec mother,
spectators were often both surprised and shocked: what they had taken
for reality was a myth. The W had disappeared, and in her

place were W. As Laurent Mailhot observed, "Jamais

 

 
 

 

 

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peut-etre dans notre littérature un mythe n'a été a ce point réactivé et
dénoncé, rempli et vidé.”5

But Tremblay did not confine his attention to just one myth; he
called into question the entire ideology which had shaped French
Canadians' self-images for a century. Within four years after the
opening of L§§_§§113§;§ggg;§, five more plays in the cycle had been
produced. In each one, Tremblay confronted audiences with contemporary
Quebec, with sounds and images which refuted their traditional identity
as an agrarian society of French-speaking Catholics devoted to family
and Church, and shunning the materialism of their Anglo-Saxon
neighbors. 19351 was far from the standard French which was supposedly
their goal, and said much about the state of their religious faith as
well. As the family disintegrated, individuals felt cut off from God,
from each other, and from their own being, and were overwhelmed by their
apparently meaningless existence. Furthermore, the Main, the one hope
of escaping the family, offered only an illusory freedom. Beneath the
glitter, its social order was confining and dehumanizing.

During this early period, Tremblay's goal was to present a portrait
of Quebec's alienation. In 1969, he characterized his theatre as a
"claque sur la gueule," a theatre "qui vise a provoquer une prise de
conscience chez 1e spectateur. Voyons-nous, une bonne fois, tels que
nous sommes, pour un jour, peut-étre, dépasser tout cela."6 By 1971,
when asked about the hopelessness and despair of his plays, he pointed
to the most recent one, A_Ig1i_ngg;_§guigu;§‘_;§_ugrig;ng, in which
sixteen-year-old Carmen deliberately chooses to pursue a career, rather
than assume the traditional role for women: "C'est le premier personnage

que je fais depuis que j'écris qui s'en sort. Il fallait que ca se

 

 

 

 

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fasse, ce théAtre de desespoir-la pour aboutir a quelque chose."7

Protagonists in the next two plays, Hosanna, and fignlgg;‘_lg‘__bggigg;,
although less orthodox than Carmen, are able to identify personal
values and develop fulfilling relationships. In doing so, they free
themselves from confining social norms and assume responsibility for
making their own choices. In 1976, 551n§g_gg;mgg_g§_l§_flain depicted a
brief moment of fulfillment in artistic achievement and social
responsibility, suggesting, however, that such heights of perfection and
selfless love cannot long endure. Finally, through the two characters
in.nann§§_flangn_§§§;§g_§§ndzg, Tremblay took a fresh look at life on rue
Fabre. There is a new mood of tolerance, but although individuals are
no longer condemned by society for the choices they have made, they are
still confined by roles which prevent direct communication between
individuals-oand between a playwright and his public. On this rather
personal note, Tremblay closed the cycle of the figllg§;§2gu;§.

Tremblay then turned to the novel to explore the lives of
characters first introduced in the play cycle. In a 1979 interview he
talked of his desire to "create a kind of large epic, which takes place
in one particular street, at one particular point in the history of
Quebec, and to make out of it a microcosm."8 In another interview, two
years later, he gave several reasons for writing novels. One was that
he wanted to be able to speak directly to his audience in a way that he
found impossible to do as a playwright: "Alors, j'ai écrit un roman
pour pouvoir, moi, parler au monde sans passer a travers des

personnages."9 Above all, he wanted to explain his Plateau Mont-Royal

characters:

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Parce que je voulais rajeunir mes personnages de vingt-cinq
ans et aussi faire une genese de mon théAtre. J'ai écrit un
cycle entre 1965 et 1976, et j'ai eu besoin de décrire au
monde comment les personnages en étaient arrivés a étre ce
qu'ils étaient. Quand les quatre romans des "Chroniques"
vont etre finis, l'oeuvre suivante sera Lg§__§§llg§;§ggu;§.
Je suis en train d'expliquer comment mes personnages sont
devenus les belles-soeurs, comment ils sont devenus Marie-Lou,
Carmen, etc. D'ailleurs, les années quarante m'intéressent
beaucoup. C'éfgient les années avant qu'on commence a penser
a se revolter.

Five novels have now been completed. The works published to date
might be called Tremblay's imaginative search for roots in reality and
myth, beginning in 1942, the year he was born. Concentrating on one
family inspired by, but not identical to, his own, Tremblay shows how
lives are gradually shaped by situations and events that for various
reasons people are unable to control. In one individual after another,
the sense of self is undermined, and alienation occurs. Rarely in the
novels do characters clearly understand their situation and the choices
that must be made if they are to maintain their integrity. Nevertheless,
the novels invite readers to understand the circumstances which have
influenced decisions in the past, and to see how each generation is both
bound to the past, yet free to make different choices.

In 1984, Tremblay returned to his play cycle with Albertine, en
ging__§gmpg. Albertine, who had appeared previously, both in plays and
novels, is one of Tremblay's most alienated women. At seventy, after
being cared for by a supportive medical staff, she finally confronts,
understands, and accepts her past. Albertine's discovery of selfhood is

especially significant because society has helped free her from a self-

defeating way of thinking, and has encouraged her to make independent,

responsible choices.

The “way of thinking" to which I refer is rooted in the nineteenth
century policy of 'survivance,” which has had long-lasting and
unforeseen effects on Quebec society. Margaret Atwood argues that
survival is a central symbol in both French and English Canadian
literature; it may refer to "bare survival" in harsh or adverse

11 For

conditions, or to the “grim survival" of a crisis or disaster.
Quebec, she adds, it also means "cultural survival, hanging on as a
people, retaining a religion and a language under an alien
government."12 What should not be overlooked is the fact that in
Quebec, survival was more than an instinctive "hanging on;“ it was a
carefully formulated policy. Threatened with assimilation, French
Canadians formed a well-disciplined society under the leadership of the
Church. 'La survivance' became a way of life, and while it was
successful as an emergency measure, it proved too restrictive to promote
the long-term development of a vigorous society.

During the Quiet Revolution the Québécois took stock of their
situation and concluded that the old survival strategies were more often
harmful than beneficial. Some writers proposed to dismiss them as no
longer affecting life in Quebec, but Tremblay realized that habits and
attitudes are not easily replaced, especially by people who feel weak
and insecure. Beginning with Le§_ng11g§;§2§g;§, he forcefully calls
attention to the way individuals are confined by the survival policies
which have been internalized throughout society, not only as rules
governing morality and social conduct, but as basic attitudes and self-

inmges. Conformity to those policies, he insists, no longer results in

survival but in alienation. As one play follows another, freedom

 

 

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becomes the battle cry of characters who revolt against stifling
traditions and seek meaningful lives.

The chief purpose of this study is to examine nine of Michel
Tremblay's plays with respect to the problem of personal freedom.
Although Tremblay himself has consistently favored the separatist cause,
most of the characters who inhabit his fictional world are not ready to
think about independence as a political or cultural issue. They are
instead trying to discover individual integrity and maintain it in
personal relationships and in their work. Not only must they free
themselves from old habits, but they must also choose courses of action
which reflect their values and will--no easy task in milieux where
conformity is the rule. The plays might be studied as reflections of
Tremblay's personal concerns. My objective, however, is to consider how
the playwright presents the problem of personal freedom in Quebec at a
time when the hierarchical social order, dominated by the Church, is
being replaced by a secular, pluralistic society in which individual
members decide how to fulfill their personal and community
responsibilities.

Because the plays are being read in the context of a period of
social change, I shall begin my study with an overview of historical
events and policies seen in relation to their influence on Quebec's
self-image and the exercise of freedom within Quebec. Examples from the
literature of Quebec are also included to show how the theme of freedom
was treated in the thirty-year period which preceded Leg Belles-$9eggg.
Although familiar to students and critics of Quebec's literature, this

material is worth examining here because it sheds light on problems

which came to a head during the Quiet Revolution, and thus helps us
appreciate the accuracy and originality of Tremblay's vision.

The main body of this study is devoted to the nine major plays of

the fig113§;§ggu; cycle as it exists in 1986.13 The first section
discusses W: (1968). Weenies (1969,1971). and

L§_Qggh§§§§_gg_L§ngg§1§ (1969). These plays illustrate ways in which the
self is confined and falsified, particularly by traditional family

roles; they also point out the difficulties of attaining the self-

awareness necessary for making responsible choices. In the second

section. which includes 'Wm (1971).
llama (1973). andhsniW (1974). several Protagonists

identify personal values and, refusing traditional roles, pursue goals
of their own. They are the first of Tremblay's characters who have the
inner strength to exercise freedom. The next two plays, figin§g__ggzmgn

Lia—min (1976) and MW (1977). exvlore the

role of the artist in society, and ways in which the artist's freedom
may be limited. The fourth section examines Albegging‘_gn__ging__tgmp§
(1984), which charts an individual's progress toward freedom against a
backdrop of social change. This leads to the final discussion of the
exercise of freedom as Tremblay has depicted it in the fictional world

he has created on the Plateau Mont-Royal.

Notes

1 Zelda Heller, review, "Tremblay's Belles-Secure Landmark in
Quebec Theatre," Ibe_flgn§;g§1_§§gz 25 May 1971, rpt. in Les e es-
§gg31§, by Michel Tremblay (Montréal: Leméac, 1972) 155.

2 Martial Dassylva, review, "L'Amour du 122;; et des timbres-
primes,“ La_£;gg§§ 29 seat 1968, rpt. in Le§_figllg§;§ggu;§ 133.

3 Laurent Mailhot, 'Les_§g11g§;§ggu;§ ou l'enfer des femmes," Lg
Ih§g§;g__gg§h§ggis Jean-Cleo Godin and Laurent Mailhot (Montreal:

HMH, 1970) 198.

4 Patrick Schupp, review of Le§_fig11g§;§ggg;§ (n.p., n.d), rpt. in
Leg__flgllg§;§ggnzg 144. Adrien Thério, essay, "Les Belles-Soeurs," in
W 150-

5 Mailhot 194.

6 Fernand Doré, ”Michel Tremblay, 1e gars a barbe sympathique," Lg

Mgggzine__flgglgan June 1969: 10, quoted by John Ripley in "From

Alienation to Transcendence: The Quest for Selfhood in Michel
Tremblay's Plays," Qangdian_L1§g;g§g;g 85 (1980): 44.

7 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Entrevue avec Michel Tremblay," by
Rachel Cloutier, Marie Laberge, and Rodrigue Gignac, Nerd 1. l (automne

1971): S7.

8 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Where to Begin the Accusation," by

Renate Usmiani, Canadian Ingagzg Review 24 (Fall 1979): 29.

10

9 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Michel Tremblay et la mémoire
collective,“ by Donald Smith, Le531g§_gg§bgggisg§ automne 1981: 55.

10 Tremblay, interview by Smith 55.

11 Margaret Atwood, ' emat c Guid to Canadian
Literature (Toronto: Anansi Press, 1972) 32.

12 Atwood 32.

13 Omitted from discussion are Izgig pg§1t§ toug§ (1969), a
collection of three short plays about the entertainment world of the
Main; Dgna1n_mg§1n_flgn§1§gl_ng§§gng (1972), a musical, also about show
business on the Main, and fig;n;13g1_§u;nxisg1 (1975), a brief sketch

made up of telephone calls concerning party plans gone awry.

PART I

THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM: AN OVERVIEW OF QUEBEC'S HISTORY
AND LITERATURE

ll

An Overview of Quebec's History and Literature

When Charles de Gaulle proclaimed "Vive le Québec libre" during his
visit to Expo '67 in Montreal, he focused worldwide attention on the
separatist cause. His dramatic announcement did little to improve the
already strained relations between Quebec and the rest of Canada, nor
did it help outside observers to understand the significance of the
changes which were transforming Quebec society. As sociologist Marcel
Rioux has pointed out, the Quiet Revolution was a people's effort to
free themselves from internal as well as external forms of bondage:

La revolution tranquille, c'est beaucoup plus une liberation
des esprits, 1a naissance d'attitudes critiques envers les
choses et les hommes que des actes proprement
revolutionnaires. C'est aussi et surtout une revalorisation
de soi, la reapparition d'un esprit d'indépendance et de
recherche, qui avait gele au cours du long hiver qui a duré
plus d'un siecle. Les Quebecois acquierent la certitude qu'ils
peuvent changer beaucoup de choses s'ils 1e veulent vraiment.
C'est la mise en.veilleuse de ce fatalisme des vaincus et des
minoritaires qui en viennent graduellement a penser ‘qu'ils
sont nes pour un petif pain' et qu'ils sont loin de tous avoir
‘la tete a Papineau.’

Many Québécois would agree with Rioux that French Canadians had
come to see themselves as permanently excluded from the world's wealth
and power, not even entitled to the pursuit of happiness which their
neighbors to the south claimed as an inalienable right. And because
People who have little confidence in their own self-worth are unlikely
to accept the responsibilities of freedom, the I"revalorisation de soi"
at the heart of the Quiet Revolution was a first and critical step

toward freedom. To understand this process, which is also central to

12

13

Tremblay's work, we will begin by tracing the development of Quebec's
self-image and its relationship to freedom.

Quebec, the first settlement in New France, was founded in 1608 by
Samuel de Champlain. Unlike the groups of religious dissenters who
settled in New England, French colonists were not there to establish a
new order; they came to perpetuate the social and religious
institutions of France, and to promote its political and commercial
interests. While they often displayed a certain independence, they
thought of themselves as part of the French empire rather than as
individuals pursuing personal goals.

In 1763, following the military defeat of French forces in Quebec,
New France was ceded to England. At first, Catholics were barred from
holding public office, but the Quebec Act of 1774 recognized the
Catholic Church, restored French civil law, and helped the British win
the cooperation and support of the senior clergy. Indifferent to French-
Canadian commercial interests, Church leaders saw Quebec as an
agricultural society, with themselves as its representatives. They also
believed that cooperation with the English was in the best interests of
everyone concerned.

English and Church authority were not openly disputed until the
beginning of the 19th century, when the secular-democratic force led by
Louis-Joseph Papineau formed a group called ”Patriotes.” Despite Church
opposition, they advocated independence, but their armed uprising in
1837-1838 was crushed. French Canadians suffered still further
humiliation when the London government sent a commission led by Lord
Durham to investigate the unrest. As a result of his recommendations,

the Act of Union was passed in 1840, reducing Quebec's autonomy. Lord

14

Durham also recommended assimilation as the best way to eliminate
friction between French and English Canadians, arguing that French
Canadians were an uneducated people who had neither a history nor a
literature, and would therefore benefit from the civilizing influence of
English culture.2 His remarks have not been forgotten--or forgiven.

0f most immediate concern in 1840 was the obvious threat to the
Catholic faith and French language. Forging new alliances, moderates
helped preserve Quebec's autonomy and ensured French Canada's
participation in the negotiations which resulted in the British North
America Act of 1867. One of four provinces in the newly-created Dominion
of Canada, Quebec won a degree of control over provincial affairs, and
French was recognized in the national Parliament and the provincial
Parliament of Quebec. Unable to achieve political freedom, the French
Canadians nevertheless used what political power they had not only to
prevent assimilation, but to maintain an active French presence in the
national government.

During the same period, however, the Church began a concerted
effort to reduce secular influences and transform Quebec into a self-
contained agrarian theocracy which could remain loyal to its heritage
and yet not provoke English intervention in its affairs. For nearly a
century, Church leaders were to define Quebec and its people in terms of
a religious calling. No one did this more eloquently than Monseigneur
PAquet in his famous 1902 sermon on the vocation of the French race in
America. He told his listeners that French Canadians were chosen by God
to spread their religion and civilization throughout North America. To
help them fulfill this destiny, their history would nourish their minds

and their autonomy would protect them."against all assimilating forces

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15

and all corrupting intermixture."3 He then called for "filial obedience
to the teachings of the Church and a complete submission to the
authority of the leaders who represent (...) the power of the church."4
Monseigneur PAquet concluded by urging his listeners to dedicate
themselves to their Church and nation, and to eschew the materialistic
values of their neighbors. "While our rivals are, no doubt, in polite
struggles contending for the power that stems from industry and finance,
our aspirations shall be, above all, to uphold the honour of our
doctrine and to gain the palms of apostleship."S

Although Monseigneur Pequet's subject is ostensibly God's will for
Quebec, his speech is also about the power and authority exercised by
the clergy, who expected their parishoners to obey. Those who did not
were almost sure to be punished in some way. It is impossible to say
whether or not French Canada would have survived had the Church been
less authoritarian. A different question concerns us here, however: how
did the Church's increasingly authoritarian policies for survival affect
Quebec's self-image and the exercise of freedom?

The kind of social organization actively promoted by Church leaders
has been characterized as 'autoritaire et fortement hiérarchisée, ou
chaque individu, selon les talents recus de la Providence, a une place
assignée d'avance et sanctionnée par le clergé."6 Within this
hierarchy, the clergy formed the ruling class. The basic unit was the
family, and couples were responsible to God to have children and to give
them a religious upbringing. The father was the authority figure; with
him rested the responsibility for final decisions concerning the family.

He ‘was also responsible for their support, although many families

depended.heavily on the wife's economic contribution from gardening and

16

the raising of poultry and livestock. The woman, subject to her
husband's authority, was responsible for the children's early moral and
religious training. The basis for the woman's role was to be found in
nature, which had equipped her for hearing and rearing children; any
departure from that role was viewed by many as ungodly and unnatural.
Henri Bourassa, a tireless and outspoken advocate of the traditional
Catholic social order, was vehement in his insistance that women should
be viewed primarily as child-bearers:
La principale fonction de la femme est et restera--quoi que
disent et quoi que fassent, ou ne passent pas, les
suffragettes--1a maternité, 1a sainte et féconde maternité,
qui fait veritablement de la femme l'égale de l'homme et, a
maints égards, sa supérieure. Or la maternité exclut
forcément les charges trop lourdes--19 service militaire, par
exemple,--et les fonctions publiques.

What Bourassa called 'la sainte et féconde maternité" made possible
Quebec's 'revanche des berceaux." Between 1750 and 1950, when the
population in Europe quadrupled, the population in Quebec increased by a
factor of eighty, giving French Canadians the votes needed to help
balance the influx of English-speaking immigrants in Canada.8 It is
therefore not surprising that Quebec's mg;g__gg__ޤmillg became a
legendary figure, the very symbol of survival. As pressure mounted to
remove some of the restrictions on the family, and particularly on
women, Bourassa inveighed against civil marriage, divorce, factory
employment for women, and women's suffrage. The right to vote, Bourassa
warned was only the first step in a fatal progression which would result
in 'la femme-homme, 1e monstre hybride et repugnant qui tuera la femme-

nbre et la femme-£gmmg."9 Bourassa's remarks, originally published in

1918, were often quoted. In 1940 a law was passed making it legal for

17

women to vote in Quebec's provincial elections, but not until the 1960s
didiumny women seriously consider assuming any role but mg;§_dg_fam111g.

'Despite an attempt in the 1870s to bring the schools under
government control, the Church won.the upper hand, and as a result,
education in Quebec reflected the traditional social order and promoted
the doctrines, values, and authority of the Church. It was the father's
prerogative to determine how much and what kind of education his
children should have, a decision often affected by economic factors.
Because so little importance was attached to careers in commerce and
industry, vocational training and programs in applied science and
technology were neglected. The most prestigious secondary schools were
the cgllfiges_91§§§1ggg§, which offered an academic program, and prepared
students for the university and eventual careers in the Church or in
professions such as medicine and law. Generally speaking, only
relatively well-to-do families were able to afford this kind of
education for their children. In the Catholic colleges, the science
curriculum was conservative, and reading lists were tailored to avoid
works on the Index. Students often obtained banned books, of course, but
not without a certain risk, as Gérard Bessette recounts in his 1960
novel,,Lg_L1h;gi;§.

Although the Church wielded enormous power over the family,
education, and even government, its plans for Quebec's survival as an
agrarian society were undermined from the start by the failure of
agriculture to sustain Quebec's growing population. Between' 1851 and
the turn of the century, 500,000 French Canadians left for the United
States, *where assimilation was inevitable.10 Large numbers also moved

to tuban areas in Quebec, and by 1929, nearly two-thirds of the

18

population was urban.11 Poor and uneducated, French Canadians were in
no position to "contend for the power that stems from industry and

”12 Even as unskilled laborers, they were often at a

finance.
disadvantage if they spoke no English, for in Montreal particularly,
many of the employers and supervisors were Anglophones. Urbanization
was seen as a moral problem by Church leaders, who believed that city
life promoted not only materialism, but a general weakening of loyalty
to Church, family, and tradition. The Church urged French Canadians to
maintain their heritage, but such a policy inevitably produced guilt and
alienation; people could not cope successfully with the problems of
urban life if they pretended to be living in a nineteenth century
agricultural society.

During this period, many novels were written in support of the
social policies of the Church. Until the mid-1930s, according to critic
Maurice Arguin, "le roman adherait a 1'ideologie de survivance, au point
de s'identifier a elle, illustrant l'univers mythique du Canadien,
pionnier ou agriculteur, francais et catholique, promis a un monde
meilleur".13 Indeed, nineteenth-century Church leaders had specifically
charged French Canadian authors with the responsibility of creating a
literature which would not emphasize materialism, as did many
contemporary works, but instead show people how to live a moral life in
keeping with the Church's teachings.14 The result was the 521391:
literature which romanticized rural life and warned readers against the
dangers of the city.

Then came Ringuet's I;gg§g__A[pgn§§ (1938), which broke with

tradition. When Euchariste Moisan was forced to leave his thirty acres

and move to a New England factory town, the Quebec novel turned from

l9

myth to reality and began its record of the changes that were taking
place in French Canadian society. In Bgnhgu;__g;ggg§§193 (1945),
Gabrielle Roy continued that record, revealing the steady deterioration
of a family's economic and moral situation in Montreal at the end of the
19308. The mother strives valiantly to fulfill her role as mg;g__gg
famillg, but the father, having lost one job after another, and his
self-respect as well, finally chooses enlistment as a solution to his
problems. The novel closes with the departure of a troop train; not
only the land, but an entire civilization, has failed its people.

Although many French Canadians volunteered for military service,
Quebec voters strongly opposed conscription in a 1942 national
plebecite. They had no strong loyalty to republican France, and still
regarded the English King as their enemy. English Canadian support was
enough to pass the measure, however. Within Quebec, the situation was
further complicated by Cardinal Villeneuve, the Archbiship of Quebec; he
had been expected to oppose the war, but instead used his position of
leadership to support the war effort. Because of this, he was seen as
an English puppet.15 Thus the issue of conscription left the people of
Quebec feeling hopelessly outnumbered by English Canadians, despite the
”revanche des berceaux," and betrayed by the very institution that was
supposed to protect French-Canadian society. French-English relations
fell to a new low, and the people of Quebec began to question old
assumptions about their role in Canada and in the world.

During this period, Gratien Gélinas wrote a series of satirical
revues, Lg§__£11g211naggs (1938-1946) which introduced an element of
serious social criticism into a form of entertainment popular in Quebec

since the turn of the century. Each year he based his program on

20

events and problems familiar to Quebec audiences; the centerpiece was
Fridolin, a working-class youth who naively uncovered hypocrisy, whether
his subject was the family, the Church, government, or sex. T -Co
(1948), a full-length play which Gélinas developed from one of his
sketches, portrayed a war veteran who is discriminated against due to
his illegitimate birth. The play may be seen as a criticism of Quebec
for its cruel and unjust treatment of its own people, or many be viewed
as criticizing English Canada for treating French Canadians as an
inferior people who have no legitimate claim to a place in North
America. But while Gélinas pointed out fundamental social problems, he
did not suggest that change was imminent.

The demand for change was becoming more insistent, however. In
Refu§_g19h§1, a manifesto published by a group of artists in 1948, Paul-
Emile Borduas and fifteen co-signers refused to be confined any longer
by “les murs lisses de la peur, refuge habituel ides vaincus," where
French Canadians had been isolated from the world ever since 1760.16 An
appeal for cultural, political, and intellectual freedom, Refus global
has been called one of the most influential documents in Quebec
literature.17 Its vivid images and compelling language boldly uncovered
the many forms taken by fear in Quebec. In the beginning, fear unified
French Canadians against foreign enemies; like a fortress, it protected
the people inside. Soon, however, people discovered that they could not
leave the fortress; their refuge proved to be a trap, a prison.
Furthermore, although fear was inspired by an external enemy at first,
it gradually penetrated every aspect of life until people were afraid of
each other and of themselves. Borduas and his colleagues believed that

they had freed themselves by learning about the outside world, and urged

21

other French Canadians to follow their example. But freedom from fear
did not mean freedom from danger, and the fact that authorities could
and did punish Borduas (he lost his appointment at the Ecole du
Meuble), helps explain why so many French Canadians continued to submit.

Post-war Quebec was indeed not ready to chart a new course.
Conservative Maurice Duplessis, Prime Minister of Quebec from 1936 to
1939, was returned to office in 1944, and remained there until his death
in 1959. Convinced that Quebec's future depended on adherence to the
past, Duplessis had a decisive role in delaying the modernization of
Quebec. His retrogressive policies were symbolized by the choice of the
fleur-de-lys as the emblem for the new provincial flag, and the motto
l'Je me souviens.“ Thus in 1948, 11;;ggg and B££2§___812h£l
notwithstanding, Quebec renewed its links with the authoritarian
colonial system of pro-revolutionary France. Duplessis was not a
separatist, however. He took steps to protect Quebec's autonomy from
Ottawa in areas such as education, but his primary goal was to assure
law and order so that Quebec's existing social system could be
maintained. Authority for schools and other social services belonged to
the Church, industrial development was best handled by private
enterprise, and in the 1950s, when Quebec's population was 70% urban,
Duplessis promoted policies favoring agriculture at the expense of other
segments of society.18

Loyal as he was to his province's agricultural tradition, Duplessis
could not ignore Quebec's high unemployment following World War II. By
attracting foreign investors to develop Quebec's natural resources, he
created many new jobs, and as a result Quebec's growth kept pace with

the growth rate in Canada as a whole. Nevertheless, because the

22

government sold development rights cheaply and retained little control
over the companies, the dangers of "leaving industry to others" became
all too apparent, and French Canadians began to demand new public
policies which would enable Quebec to develop its human and natural
resources for its own benefit.

Attitudes toward labor also began to change under the Duplessis
regime. Like many conservative French Canadians, Duplessis viewed
work as man's punishment for failure to obey God's commandments: "La
grande loi du travail est d'inspiration divine et la sentence portée
contre 1e premier homme est toujours en force: tu travailleras a la
sueur de ton front."19 While he believed that employers owed workers a
decent wage, he also thought that workers should never forget their
dependence on private enterprise, which created their jobs. Such
policies, by failing to recognize people's need for meaningful work,
have fostered dissatisfaction and alienation the world over; Quebec was
no exception.

Public attention was dramatically focused on workers' rights and
needs when Duplessis used provincial police during the asbestos workers'
strike in 1949. Among those defending the strikers was Monseigneur
Charbonneau, Archbishop of Montreal. "Nous voulons la paix sociale,
mais nous ne voulons pas l'écrasement de la classe ouvriere. Nous nous
attachons plus a l'homme qu'au capital," he told a Montreal audience in
a (May 1) Labor Day speech.20 When Monseigneur Charbonneau resigned,
his replacement was more conservative, but too late; Catholics were
already beginning to question the social system in which people's needs
were consistently treated as being less important than the system

itself. Nevertheless, Duplessis was unwilling to accept the fact that

23

French Canadians were becoming an industrial, urban, secular people, and
steadfastly promoted the traditional components of "1a survivance”--
agriculturalism, anti-statism, and Messianism.

Although the Duplessis years are sometimes referred to as Quebec's
dark ages, there were important spokesmen for change. Some were
churchmen, like Monseigneur Charbonneau; others were labor leaders,
journalists, and lawyers. Two of the best-known critics of "la
survivance' were Pierre Elliot Trudeau and Gerard Pelletier, who in 1950
founded §1§§__11h;g, a quarterly which treated social and political
issues.

The average person, however, was probably far more influenced by
television. Introduced in 1952, it gave French Canadians broader access
to current events, sports, and drama. Tremblay recalls that he was
inspired to write, at the age of thirteen, 'une espece de nouvelle"
based on characters from the Plouffe family, a television series by
Roger Lemelin.21 The popularity of this series, and of Le§__zlgufifig
(1948), the novel which preceded it, suggests that French Canadians
welcomed a realistic portrayal of family life in a working-class, urban
neighborhood.

In post-war Quebec, novels extolling rural life disappeared, and
when writers explored the effects of survival policies, country settings
no longer evoked peaceful abundance, but frightening isolation in an
amoral world of nature where men and women lost not only their ties to
society but their own humanity as well. One such example was Le_1911gn;
(1945) by Anne Hebert. A well-known tale of mutilation and matricide, it
depicted the fearful destructiveness which results when rigid,

uncompromising authority is exercised in the name of morality, stifling

24

all that is spontaneous and human. The characters' physical isolation
on a remote farm reinforced their moral and emotional isolation, and
contributed to their annihilation. Long before the Quiet Revolution,
"1a survivance" was shown to be destroying the very society which it had
been designed to protect.

Maurice Arguin has pointed to Le_Ig;;gn§ as typical of Quebec's
psychological novel which ”fait le bilan d'une vie ou, plus précisément,
celui des ‘empéchements a vivre,'" namely the past, religion, and the
family.22 By the 19503, these three traditional "valeurs-refuges" no
longer represented means of survival, but instruments of domination
which prevented the normal development of the individual.23 As in the
case of Hébert's protagonists, thwarted individuals were likely to vent
their frustration through destructive acts such as murder, mutilation,
fire, and suicide. Margaret Atwood has in fact entitled her chapter on
the literature of Quebec ”Burning Mansions", because family homes,
schools, and other symbols of oppression are so frequently destroyed by
fire.24 In Tremblay's theatre, there is even mention of a child who
sets fire to his mother's hair.25

Playwrights also depicted authoritarianism and destructiveness, and
the price paid by the younger generation. Eloi de Grandmont with EB
£11§_g_§gg; (1949) and Yves Thériault with Le Marghegr (1950) both took
as their subject brutal fathers who demanded obedience and crushed
individuality. Marcel Dubé showed a world governed by nebulous,
impersonal forces that were harder to identify, end even more
difficult to oppose than was the authoritarian father. In Zone (1953)
five young smugglers band together, forming a "zone" outside of the law

where they attmpt to hold on to their faith in themselves and the

25

future. The protagonist of Hn_§1mn1e_§eleer (1957), a soldier returning
from World War II, finds his working-class world compromised by
hypocrisy, self-interest, and submission. Unwilling to conform, he re-
enlists, and is killed in Korea. This play, like Zene, suggested that
opportunities for self-fulfillment simply did not exist at that time in
Quebec. In Elerenee, written in 1957, the protagonist is a woman who
chooses to leave Quebec for New York where she will have greater freedom
to develop personal and professional interests. Inspired by her
independence, her father decides to help his co-workers establish a
union. His decision to work for improvements within society foreshadows
the spirit of the Quiet Revolution.

Despite the repressive policies and government corruption
associated with the tenure of Maurice Duplessis, Quebec's writers were
actively exploring situations which Quebec's leadership refused to
acknowledge. Some, like Ringuet and Roy, revealed the trend toward
urbanization and exposed the deep-seated problems associated with it.
Others, including Hebert, Borduas, and Dubé, portrayed a people confined
by debilitating strategies for defense, a people who were being stifled
by the system that was supposed to protect them. "La survivance" was
shown to be synonymous with repressive moral codes, poverty, fear, and
ignorance.

As the originator of those policies, the Church inevitably came
under attack. Borduas, for example, openly expressed his belief that
the Church could no longer make a positive contribution to Quebec's
society. Other critics during the 1950's, many of whom were devout
Catholics, examined the Church's doctrines and social policies in the

hope of reforming the institution and revitalizing faith. One such

26

critic was Jean Le Moyne. The articles to be discussed here were
written between 1951 and 1960, and are included in a volume of essays
entitled genzergeneee (1969).

In his analysis of the Church's role in Quebec, Le Moyne
acknowledged that although Church leadership had made possible the
settlers' survival after the Conquest, fear had also survived and grown
stronger as a result of Church policy. In its mania for self-apology,
Le Moyne said, the Church tried to be everywhere and to provide every
solution. But it did more than monopolize those whom it served; it
“infected“ them with guilt through its teaching of the heretical
doctrine of dualism, which treats the body and spirit as separate
entities which are always in conflict.26 The flesh, being weak, must be
strictly controlled. Even so, sin is inevitable, and the sinner lives
under the constant threat of terrible punishment.

As a child, Le Moyne was taught that two angels had been
assigned to accompany him: the good angel, with whom his soul would
identify, and the bad angel, which was incarnate in his body. He and
his classmates were thus split into two parts; "divisés, nous devions
aboutir a une tension qui nous fera perdre entierement 1e sens de la
totalité humaine, qui nous rendra incomprehensible la reconciliation
avec soi."27 Sermons contained unforgettable images of hell which
filled the children with fear, "la frousse infernale qui nous fit douter
de la bonté et de la loyauté divines en nous montrant Dieu comme une
foudre aveugle et traitresse, un hasard personnifié, ou une probabilité
néfaste et sinistrement complice des propensions malicieuses de

"28

l'homme. In spite of their natural tendency to shut out unpleasant

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thoughts, the children were "possédés d'une peur inextirpable et
protéenne."29

Because Quebec's dualist doctrines indentified the flesh as "1e
siege de la culpabilité et le lieu du mal,” sexuality became one of the
principal moral issues.30 As schoolboys approached puberty, they
received no explanation of sexual development, but were asked troubling
questions, and given mysterious advice in the name of "purity." Girls'
sex education was also inadequate; the negative attitude of their
mothers and a total lack of information left them quite unprepared for
the sexual aspects of marriage. Ignorance was not the only problem, for
the convent schools systematically treated even sex in marriage as
shameful.31

A similar message was conveyed in the depiction of the "mere
canadienne-francaise.” This popular figure of fecundity and nurturing
love was usually portrayed at work in her kitchen, Le Moyne noted, but
while her children were present, her husband was not. The abscence
suggested that he had no part in the life of the family. The effects of
dualism and the resulting sexual repression were also recorded in
French-Canadian literature, Le Moyne said, for characters lacked genuine
physical presence and rarely experienced fulfillment of the love
glimpsed or hoped for.32

By 1960, Le Moyne was pessimistic about the future of the Church;
it was blind to its mistakes and showed no sign of serious reform.
Repeating the criticisms which he had been making for a decade, he
wrote: “je loge une fois de plus 1a source de notre mal au plus profond
des valeurs et de l'intimité de notre peuple: sa religion, notre

catholicisme exproprié par le cléricalisme et perverti par 1e

28

dualisme."33 And although he was convinced that the message of
Christianity was as powerful as ever, he foresaw the collapse of the
Quebec Church: "Je sais que nous n'en sortirons pas sans la
desaffection collective plus ou moins complete dont on s'alarme en haut
lieu - sans y rien comprendre d'ailleurs. Nous perdons la foi, et 11 y
a de quoi.'3a The events of the 19608 were to prove him right; many
people did indeed lose their faith, and the Church was weakened. But
the secularization of Quebec society did not automatically erradicate
the effects of dualism; the battle between body and soul, especially in
its sexual aspects, was far from over.

In 1959 language became the subject of public debate when an
editorial in L£__D§!211 claimed that young people especially, spoke
jenel, not French. A Brother in a teaching order wrote an anonymous
letter in response; he agreed that students neither wrote nor spoke
standard French, but argued that the situation could not be remedied by
classroom instruction alone. If jenel had replaced French it was because
people felt no need for French; it had no obvious economic or

intellectual value in their lives. So began a spirited series of

letters which grew into Lee_1negleneee_gn_£rere_ynrel, published the

35 It was a best-seller, and focused attention on

following year.
Quebec's French: was it in fact an impoverished, bastardized language,
unfaithful to Quebec's French heritage? As people began to think about
the conditions that had fostered jenel, they also began to consider ways
of developing a language and culture to reflect their experience as
French-speaking North Americans. This attitude suggests a new self-

image: they no longer saw themselves as French colonials, but as

Québécois.

29

Two factors facilitated the beginning of genuine dialogue in
Quebec. First of all, the death of the Prime Minister, and then his
successor, weakened the Unien__nerienele's unity and far-reaching
political control. Also important was the fact that Church was ready to
relinquish certain responsibilities, for it no longer possessed the
human or financial resources to satisfy growing demands for schools and
other social services. The people of Quebec at last talked to each
other as they never had before, using jenel as well as French. In the
past others had defined their destiny. They had been French colonists,
French-speaking English subjects, a people chosen to obey. By 1960,
however, they were determined to choose for themselves how they would
live-~and be--Québécois.

First came the debates between the two main parties, the Liberals
and the Unien_neriene1e, as they engaged in the campaign that was to
put Liberal Jean Lesage and his 'équipe du tonnerre' in office,
empowered to begin modernizing Quebec's society. Soon many more voices
were heard, espousing a range of political viewpoints, from the radical
left to the conservative right. Separatist groups denounced Quebec's
”colonial” status and called for complete independence from Canada, but
despite terrorist activities Quebec's ”revolution" might better be
characterized as a period of intense debate as various groups emerged to
make their interests known. Out of the many factions, the Berri
gneeeeeie was formed in 1968. Elected to form the government in 1976,
it failed in 1980 to win majority support for its proposal to move
Quebec toward independence. Unable to resolve this issue, which divided
his party, Prime Minister Rene Levesque resigned in 1985. Although some

"indépendantistes" saw this as a failure of national resolve, other

30

observers were of the opinion that the changes which had already
occurred had given the Québécois the freedom and self-esteem they needed
to maintain their identity and vitality without formal independence from
Canada.

What changes took place during the Quiet Revolution? Quebec's
first priority was to transform its social system. Power was shifted
from the Church to the government, which assumed major responsibility
for the educational system and social services. In 1964 the Ministry of
Education was established, giving the government authority over public
and private educational institutions; at that time plans were made for a

7.36 Between

secular junior college system which was inaugurated in 196
1961 and 1974, the increase in school attendance was marked,
particularly among teen-agers. Quebec's government began to assume
control of certain federal programs as well; the hospital insurance plan
in 1961, and the pension plan in 1964, both involved a transfer of
existing federal programs to Quebec. In the private sector, many labor
and social organizations severed their official ties to the Catholic
Church, and the number of practicing Catholics declined, as did the
number of men and women choosing religious vocations. Civil marriage,
divorce, and the use of contraceptives, although still opposed by the
Church, became more frequent. The birthrate began to decline, and by
1965 was already below the rate for Canada as a whole.37 By 1974,
according to Montreal's bishops, Quebec's society, once "nettement
chrétienne, stable, monolithique et plutot traditionelle" had become
"pluraliste, segmentée, décléricalisée, permissive, industrialisée et

urbanisée."38

.'. ӣ53;

31

Changing Quebec's economic situation proved more difficult.
Despite government measures which strengthened the Francophone presence
in the economy, English Canadian and American interests continued to
dominate. By the mid-1970s they were still the major owners of business
enterprises, and held a disproportionate number of the managerial
positions, especially at the higher levels. Furthermore, immigrants
continued to choose to learn English rather than French, evidence that
English was considered an economic asset. In 1977, after several
attempts to legislate ways to improve the position of French, and thus
of Francophones in the job market, the Quebec government passed Bill
101, the Charter of the French Language, which made French the official
language of Quebec.39 Whatever its long-term effects on hiring
policies, Bill 101 clearly bolstered confidence and pride in French as a
fully functional language, well-suited to use in the business world.

Language was an especially important issue for Quebec's writers,
since it was so intimately bound up with self-expression, creativity,
and the exercise of personal freedom. As we survey a few of the plays
and novels which had appeared by the time Tremblay had finished Lee
fiellee;§eenre in 1965, we will see that writers were raising new
questions about the past, as well as exploring Quebec’s present and
future as a French-speaking people in North America.

During the Duplessis regime, Marcel Dubé had described the effects
of a repressive social system on the working class. In 1960, however,
he turned his attention to the bourgeoisie, denouncing them for their
complicity in maintaining a corrupt social order. Brien, which
premiered on television in 1960, depicted the collaboration of self-

serving businessmen and politicians who saw government office as a means

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lof’acquiring personal wealth, power, and prestige. Offering a hard and
'public look at the practices under Duplessis, the play conveyed a clear
message: government corruption must end.

"Quiet revolution" accurately describes the changes which occur in
the 1962 novel Le__£eiee_ee_nien. In‘ it, author Gilles Marcotte
portrayed the anguish of a sensitive young priest who realizes as he
begins his first assignment that his seminary training, with its heavy
emphasis on spirituality, has taught him to dissociate himself from the
life around him. Choosing not to renounce his vows, he nonetheless
recognizes that he must heal the divorce between spirit and flesh, and
consciously work toward becoming a more complete and truly human being.

According to Malcolm Reid, however, ”revolutionary literature"
began with the first issue of £er§1_£rie in 1963. The editors and
writers favored separatism and a Marxist type of socialism, but their
controversial group, which disbanded in 1968, probably had more
influence on literature than on politics. One of its founding members,
Pierre Maheu, described their purposes as follows: "...our first task
will be one of demystification; our critique will do violence to
established myths, we shall attempt to destroy, by discovering their
contradictions, the morality and legality of the system, and open the
way to authentic relationships between men."40

In 1964, Jacques Renaud published Le_§eeee, a short novel which
unquestionably ”did violence to established myths” by depicting the
destructive forces present in a supposedly healthy, peaceful society.
The protagonist's sadistic and destructive behavior is clearly related
to social neglect and repression, and can be read as an indictment of

the system. Nevertheless, the linguistic violence--the brutal jeual

. ,«59' an

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33

used.throughout the work-~made the greatest impact on readers. It spoke
of’ a dehumanized world and challenged Quebec to create a new social
order in which life would be more humane.

In Lee_§eenx_§1menehee (1965), playwright Marcel Dubé again focused
on the bourgeoisie, suggesting that their inability to love or find
meaning in their lives is related to a lack of personal and national
purpose. Although the adults accept the past without thinking about how
it affects them, the daughter of one couple has become a separatist, and
argues that Quebec's problems result from its long history of submission
to external authority. She is unwilling, however, to accept the
consequences of her own sexual independence, and by deciding to have an
abortion, she demonstrates a lack of faith in the future which undercuts
her separatist rhetoric. Like her parents, she has no sustaining values
on which to base her choices in life.

Separatism was the central issue in three well-known novels of the
mid-19608. Jacques Godbout, in the preface of Le Qeureen eur 1e reble
(1965), called his novel "l'histoire d'une rupture,” "une approximation
litteraire d'un phenomene de re-appropriation d'un monde et d'une
culture.”1 As the anonymous narrator traces the events which have led
him to conclude that he must end his love affair with Patricia, who
symbolizes English Canada, it is clear that above all he seeks a
reappropriation of self. In Breehein_finieeee (1965), by Hubert Aquin,
the task of identifying the oppressor turns into the problem of
establishing one's own individuality. The issue is presented in the form
of a spy story in which identities are never fully revealed. The
narrator-protagonist, an author plagued with doubts, suffers from a

feeling of powerlessness and the fear of impending madness--the fate of

 

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a man who lacks a sense of self, and who is unsure of both the woman and
the country he loves. In Erhe1_er_1e_rerreriere (1964), Claude Jasmin
questioned the justification for violence. The protagonist, who has
planted a bomb which kills one person, goes into exile, where he gains a
new appreciation of his homeland, and realizes that his action was
motivated more by his weakness and that of his comrades than by reason.
His increased self-knowledge, his deepening love for Ethel, and his
hopes for their future suggest that the problem of separatism cannot be
dealt with effectively until the people of Quebec are unified and share
common goals.

In all three of these novels, although the authors support the idea
of Quebec's independence, their protagonists are not successful
activists. They bear witness to their insight, patriotism, and growing
sense of separation from English Canada, but none has a clear vision of
a free Quebec or its future. There is no description of the changes
which will occur as a result of freedom nor is there a "dream" like the
one which inspired Martin Luther King, Jr. and his followers. In the
case of Aquin and Godbout, the narrators' quest for freedom is reflected
in their innovative use of language, but for all three authors, freedom
means an opportunity to participate fully in a closed society's
exhilarating experience of emotional and intellectual liberation.

In her prize-winning novel, Qne_§e1een_eene__le__xie__g;fimmennel
(1965), Marie-Claire Blais turned the traditional "roman de la terre"
upside down to show that Quebec's children are born free; their society
teaches them to submit, but if they resist authority and ignore taboos,
some of them will preserve their individuality and retain a certain jeie

ge__xigre. In her portrayal of an impoverished rural family, Blais

35

conveyed both the harsh reality of "la revanche des berceaux" and the
miracle of life as year after year a brutish man and a work-worn woman
create fresh new lives filled with potential. This potential will
almost surely go undeveloped, and yet it is there, a. rich source of
human talent waiting to be utilized. Young Jean Le Maigre, for example,
is fatally ill with tuberculosis, but he avidly seeks whatever
experiences life has to offer. Reading, and especially writing, allow
him to exercise his imagination and develop his individuality. In
contrast to his parents, he lives intensely, but does not survive. The
novel, striking for the predominance of black, closes with a description
of the new baby, Emmanuel. He has survived the winter, and is happily
playing in the bright March sunlight. There is hope that this child
will live and someday infuse society with vitality and creativity.

Of all the writers who have been discussed here, whether or not
they were associated with the 2§I£1_Rlifi group, have contributed to the
process of demystification. Church and state, Quebec and Canada, past
and present, the wealthy and the destitute--all have been examined from
a new perspective in order to go beyond the old images which had both
shaped and reflected the people of Quebec. "In my view," wrote Jacques
Cotnam in 1972, ”return to reality is the deeper meaning of the Quiet
Revolution (...) which, for the last decade, has radically transformed
the political, social, intellectual, and religious climate of Quebec."42
Even by 1965, however, Quebec had begun to know itself as it never had
before.

When Michel Tremblay began Lee_fiellee;§eenre, he too was concerned
with demystification; he wanted to portray the contemporary working-

class family as it was, not as it was traditionally represented. He also

36

wanted to remain true to his characters by using their language, oua .
At the time, he was not familiar with any full-length work in jenel,
including Le_geeee, which he had not yet read.43 Instead, his decision
resulted from dissatisfaction with a Québécois film in which characters
spoke an inauthentic ”standard" French.“4 Not wanting to be an author
"qui se penchait sur 1e pauvre monde," he decided that it would be
necessary to write "thédtre qui se passait de l'intérieur, ou on ne
sentait pas que ca venait de l'exterieur.”45 But if Tremblay found the
themes and the language for his characters in the Montreal neighborhood
where he grew up, he found diverse sources of inspiration concerning
style: Shakespeare's monologues, the choruses in classical Greek
theatre, and especially the works of Beckett.46 Thus at the age of
twenty-three, Michel Tremblay began to write Lee__fie11ee;§eenre, in
which his innovative use of traditional theatrical techniques combined
with social realism to make the play's opening night one of the more

dramatic events of the Quiet Revolution.

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Notes

1 Marcel Rioux, Le__Qneerien_en_Qnehee (Montreal: Les Editions
Parti Pris, 1980) 104.

2 See Denis Moniere, Le Develennenene gee igéelegies en Québee des
eriginee_e_nee_jenre (Montreal: Editions Québec/Amérique, 1977) 150.

3 L.-A. PAquet, ”Sermon on the Vocation of the French Race in
America," Dieeenre_er_elleenriene (Quebec: n.p., 1915) 181-202, trans.

and rpt- in EIsnsh;Qanadian_Eatianalismi__An_Antb212sr. ed. Ramsey Cook
(Toronto: Macmillan of Canada, 1969) 157. Although portions of the

sermon appear in anthologies in French, this is the only uncut version
readily available to me.

4 PAquet 159.

5 Pequot 160.

6 Rene Hardy, "L'Ultramontanisme de Lafleche: Genese et postulats
d'une idéologie,” 1eee1egiee_en_Qeneee_freneeie_1§§Q;lggQ, ed. Fernand
Dumont, Jean-Paul Montminy, and Jean Hamelin (Quebec: Presses de
l'Université Laval, 1971) 61-62.

7 Henri Bourassa, ”Le ‘Droit' de voter--1a lutte des sexes--
Laisserons-nous avilir nos femmes?" Le_Qegeir 30 mars 1918, rpt. in
Qneeeeeieee_en_29e_e1eele, ed. Michele Jean (Montreal: Editions du Jour,
1974) 197.

8 See Rioux 51-52.

37

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38

9 Henri Bourassa, ”Desarroi des cerveaux--triomphe de la
démocratie,“,Le_nexeir 28 mars 1918, rpt. in Qneheeeieee_gn_zge__eieele,
author's emphasis, 195.

10 Ralph Sarkonak, "A Brief Chronology of French Canada, 1534-1982,"
Xele_£reneh_§rneiee 65 (1983): 277.

11 Sarkonak 279.

12 See PAquet 160. Economic conditions brought French and English
Canadians together in a kind of competition which the Church had hoped
to avoid.

13 Maurice Arguin, “Alienation et conscience dans 1e roman québécois
(NM-1965)." WM. Tome ler. ed.
Fernand Dumont, Jean Hamelin, Jean-Paul Montminy (Québec: Les Presses de
l'Université Laval, 1981) 73.

14 See Jacques Cotnam, "Cultural Nationalism and its Literary
Expression in French-Canadian Fiction," trans. Noel Corbett, Ibe_§ry__ef
Heme, ed. H. Ernest Lewall (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press,
1972) 274.

15 Concerning the Cardinal's public support of the Allies, Abbé
Lionel Groulx wrote: ”Non seulement les politiciens feront parler le
cher petit Cardinal, ils 1e feront marcher. 11 se prétera a toutes
leurs volontés...” Mee_Memeiree, Tome 4, 1940-1967 (Montreal: Fides,
1974) 229, quoted by Richard Ares, s.j., "L'Evolution de 1'Eglise au
Canada francais de 1940 a 1975: Survivance et déclin d'une Chrétienté,"
1eee1eg1ee_en_Qeneee_frenee1§_1259;121§, Tome III, ed. Fernand Dumont,
Jean Hamelin, Jean-Paul Montminy (Quebec: Presses de l'Université Laval,

1981) 271.

39

15 Paul-Emile Borduas, Befne_glehel, in Befne_gleeel Erejeeriene
liberenree (1948; Montreal: Editions Parti—Pris, 1977) 27.

17 Jonathan M. Weiss, e - a dia eat , Twayne's World
Authors Ser. 774 (Boston: Twane Publishers, 1986) 19.

13 Sarkonak 230.

19 Maurice Duplessis, Le_peye1r 3 jan. 1949, quoted by Moniere 304.

20 Joseph Charbonneau, quoted by Bernard Saint-Aubin, Duelessie et
een_enegne (Montreal: Les Editions de la Presse, Ltée, 1979) 207.

21 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Entrevue avec Michel Tremblay", by

Rachel Cloutier, Marie Laberge, et Rodrigue Gignac, Nerd 1.1 (automne

1971): 51.
22 Arguin 81.
23 Arguin 85.
2“ See Margaret Atwood. WWW

Lirerernre (Toronto: House of Anansi Press, 1972) 228-230.

25 See Michel Tremblay, En_£1eeee_eereeheee (Montreal: Leméac, 1982)
70.

26 Jean Le Moyne, "L'Atmosphere religieuse au Canada francais,"
1951, Qengergeneee (Montreal: HMH, 1969) 54.

27 Le Moyne 59.

23 Le Moyne 61-62.

29 Le Moyne 62.

30 Le Moyne 56.

31 Jean Le Moyne, "La Femme dans la civilisation Canadienne-
francaise," 1953, Qenyergeneee (Montreal: HMH, 1969) 91.

32 See Le Moyne 69-100.

Jamfimv .1:

 

40

33 Jean Le Moyne, "La Littérature Canadienne-francaise et la femme,"

1960, Qenxergeneee (Montreal: HMH, 1969) 107.'

34 Le Moyne 108.

35 The anonymous author was eventually identified as Jean-Paul
Desbiens.

36 Sarkonak 281.

37 Sarkonak 281.

33 Ares 294.

39 Sarkonak 282.

40 Malcolm Reid, Ihe_§nenring_§lgnne1n§ere (New York and London: MR,
1972) 32.

41 Jacques Godbout, Preface, Le genreen enr le gable (Paris:
Editions du Seuil, 1965) Unnumbered.

“2 Cotnam 281.

“3 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Michel Tremblay et la mémoire
collective,“ by Donald Smith, Lerrree_gneheeeieee Automne 1981:50.

44 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Michel Tremblay et le theatre
québécois,’ by Marc Kravetz, Le_flegez1ne_llrrere1re mars 1979: 89.

45 Tremblay, interview by Smith 50.

46 Tremblay, interview by Cloutier, Laberge, et Gignac 69.

PART II

THE FAMILY: VICIOUS CIRCLE 0F SELF-DECEPTION AND DEPENDENCE

41

Lee_fiellee;§eenre: Vestiges of the Traditional Quebec Family

In the summer of 1965, at the age of 23, Michel Tremblay began work
on Lee_§ellee;§eenre. As he later explained in an interview, he wanted
to describe women from the working-class milieu in Montreal, and was
looking for an idea, something ”drole et absurde," to serve as framework

1 Noting

within which the characters could interact in a realistic way.
that contests and trading stamps were popular at the time, he decided to
center the play around Germaine Lauzon, a housewife who has just won a
million trading stamps in a contest. For Germaine, this is a dream come
true; by redeeming the stamps, she will be able to refurnish her
home completely. Needing help to paste the stamps in booklets, she
invites some of her women friends and relatives to a "party" in her
kitchen, only to discover at the end of the evening that they have kept
most of the stamps for themselves. In the ensuing free-for-all, the
women snatch up the remaining stamps and leave Germaine to weep in
disappointment and rage. Then, in a surrealistic finale, the women are
heard off-stage singing “O Canada.” As Germaine finally joins in the
singing, more trading stamps miraculously drift down around her.
Germaine does not rebel against the irrational system which determines
her rewards, nor does she rebel against the eelleeeeeenre who have

robbed her; she will keep on hoping that by chance her dreams will come

true. Her story of stamps won, lost, and won again, insignificant in

42

 

 

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itself, illustrates the plight of dependent people who have more faith
in luck than in themselves to realize their dreams.

Lee__§ellee;eeenre is divided into two acts, but there is no break
in the action, all of which occurs in Germaine's kitchen. Although
Tremblay observed the traditional unities of time and place, he did not
conform to the convention in Quebec of using "standard" French. Indeed,
the exclusive use of jenel, the only appropriate language for the
helleeeeeenre, was initially less acceptable in Montreal than in Paris.
When reviewing the play for Le_uenee, Jacques Cellard wrote: "Lee

fielleeefieenre sont en jenel comme Aneremegne est en alexandrins, parce

"2 For Quebec audiences,

qu'il faut une langue a une oeuvre forte.
however, jenel had disturbing implications. Previous writers had made
only limited use of it, often as a source of humor, and almost always to
suggest cultural deprivation. Moreover, since the schools treated
French as superior to jenel, many Québécois concluded that jenel was not
only the sign of low social status, but also a sign of Quebec's
inferiority to France. Consequently, jenel was usually dismissed as an
bmpoverished language which confined thought and prevented the clear
expression of ideas.

Undeterred by such attitudes, Tremblay used jenel as a clear and
powerful expression of confinement itself. The profanity and
vulgarity to which Martial Dassylva objecteds, should indeed be
offensive, for the degradation of language reveals human degradation,
people's loss of ideals and personal dignity. To the extent that

theatre-goers listened and thus eliminated the social barrier which

jenel represented for them, the belleeeeeenre were freed from one form

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44

of confinement: although they had not yet learned to listen to each
other, they were being heard.

By setting the play in the kitchen, Tremblay reflects the values of
a society which believes that a woman's place is in the home-~in. the
kitchen, to be precise. Just how confining a kitchen can be is obvious
when fifteen women are in it! The apartment itself is confined by
neighbors, some of whom can see in, others who hear and threaten to call
the police when the noise becomes too loud. The h211§§a§2£§£§ have no
free space, no room to think or grow. The theme of confinement is often
carried over into costumes which reflect limits of various kinds.
Marie-Ange Brouillette's inescapable poverty is apparent in her
shabbiness. Yvette, on the other hand, is wearing the hat and dress
which she bought for her daughter's wedding, the highpoint of her life,
and Lisette's mink stole is proudly and constantly worn as a sign of
financial success. Madame Dubuc is confined to her wheelchair, and
therefore rarely leaves the upstairs apartment where she lives. Further
confined by senility, she is in the care of a son and daughter-in-law
who are insensitive, even brutal at times. An inarticulate and
dependent automaton, she seems to represent the final stage in a life of
confinement.

Mainly, however, the helleeeeeenre are confined by their assumption
that women are dependent. The two aging spinsters have attached
themselves to each other and to the Church. A younger spinster who
still hopes to marry, conforms closely to the general lifestyle of the
married women, not only to protect her reputation, but because there is
no other niche for her in a society where unmarried women over thirty do

not exist. She wants to avoid at all costs the situation of Germaine's

 

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45

youngest sister Pierrette, whom the women have treated as a pariah ever
since she left home ten years ago with her boyfriend Johnny to find work
in a nightclub. Considered a fallen woman, she is not welcome at her
sister's party. The other unmarried women include Germaine's twenty-
year-old daughter Linda and two friends. They have jobs, but view their
employment as lasting only until they marry. The oldest of the gellee;
eeenre is Madame Dubuc, who is ninety-three. The seven remaining women
are married, and while they all have children, no one mentions having a
large family in the tradition of the rural nere_ee_fenille. There is
also no sign that these women consider themselves "gardiennes de la foi
et de la langue,“ but nevertheless, they see themselves, and are treated
by the others, as neree_ge_fenille. And in fact, they resemble the
traditional Quebec mother in one very significant way: they too view
themselves as part of a hierarchical social order in which they have an
assigned role, few choices, and little power.

Although the original formulas for survival have been modified
almost beyond recognition, they still shape society and influence
individuals' sense of self. The helleeeeeenre conform to society's
standards and enforce conformity through a network which extends to "la
fille de ma belle-soeur," ”la belle-soeur d'une de mes belles-soeurs,"
and even to "la belle-mere de ma belle-soeur." Since husbands and
children do not reassure the women of their identity as neree ge
figmllle, they look to each other for approval. The sisterhood includes
older unmarried women who willingly conform in order not to be excluded
from the company of neighbors. The younger women who are tempted to

rebel all know someone who has paid a high price for refusal to obey the

46

code of the helleeeeeenre. Not surprisingly, many would-be rebels
decide to conform.

By 1968, audiences must surely have been ready to acknowledge that
the Quebec mother was a myth; some had read Jean Le Moyne, more had read
Marie-Claire Blais, and Roch Carrier's Le_§nerrer_1ee_§irl had been out
for several months. Nevertheless, the Québécois were not prepared for
the helleeeeeenre. As these fifteen women were confined--
intellectually, emotionally, and sexually--Quebec too was confined,
subject to bondage which had developed and been internalized as
generations of individuals abandoned personal freedom. Paul-Emile
Borduas used the image of a refuge transformed into a prison; we will
now consider how Tremblay dramatizes life within the prison, and a few
attempts to 's'en sortir.“

The play opens with Linda's return from work. Entering the
kitchen, she discovers four large cartons in the middle of the room and
calls out: “Misere, que c'est ca? Moman!”4. She is obviously less
than pleased to discover that Germaine's stamps have been delivered:
'Sont deja arrives? Ben, j'ai mon voyage! C'a pas pris de temps!"
(15). Linda does not share Germaine's excitement at the thought of
redecorating the house, and is critical of Germaine's plans to invite
people in for an evening of putting stamps into booklets, especially
since she had intended to see her boyfriend, Robert: "Misere, moman,
que vous avez done pas d'allure, des fois!" she complains (17). But
Germaine firmly believes that she deserves her daughter's cooperation,
and tries to shame Linda into helping:

C'est ca, méprise-moé! Bon, c'est correct, sors, fais a ta

téte! Tu fais toujours a ta téte, c'est pas ben ben mélant!
Maudite vie! J'peux méme pas avoir une p’tite joie, y faut

47

toujours que quelqu'un vienne tout gAter! Vas-y aux vues,
Linda, vas-y, sors s'soir, fais a ta téte! Maudite verrat de
betard que chus donc tannée! (l7).
Filled with self-pity and claiming to be unappreciated, Germaine
continues, paying no attention to Linda's attempt to defend herself:
J'comprends rien pantoute pis j'veux rien savoir! Parle-moé
pus...DésAmez-vous pour élever ca, pis que c'est que ca vous
rapporte? Rien! Rien pantoute! C'est meme pas capable de
vous rendre un p'tit sarvice! J't'avertis, Linda, j'commence
e an avoir plein 1e casque de vous servir, toé pis les autres!
Chus pas une sarvante, moé, icitte! J'ai un million de
timbres a caller pis chus pas pour les coller tu-seule! Apres
toute, ces timbres-la, y vont servir a tout le monde!
Faudrait que tout le monde fasse sa part, dans'maison!...”
(17).
Not only does Germaine feel entitled to help with the party, she also
thinks that Linda should heed her advice about Robert, whom she
considers 'niaiseux," a "ban-rien” who will never earn enough to support
a family comfortably (17). Germaine's attitudes about a woman's role
are thus sketched out in just a few short exchanges: since women are
dependent on their husbands, they must be careful to marry someone with
a good financial future; and within the family the mother has the right
to impose her will from time to time, particularly when it is for the
benefit of the family as a whole. Children should be grateful and
Obedient. Feeling that her demands are fully justified, Germaine does
not hesitate to belittle Linda, who grudgingly submits: "C'est correct,
v'nez pas folle, la mere.." (19).

Mother and daughter continue in this vein throughout the evening,
exchanging threats they will not carry out, and then complaining about
the unfair or thoughtless treatment each receives from the other. They
say nothing that they have not said many times before, and although at

one ‘point Linda defiantly walks out on Germaine in the midst of a

dispute, she quickly finds an excuse to return. Their quarrels

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illustrate the alternating sado-masochistic behavior of two people who
are dependent on each other and who know just how far they can go
without risking the definitive separation that neither one really wants.
But of the two, perhaps Linda is the more _dependent; she refuses
Pierrette's invitation to stay with her, exclaiming, ”Vous y pensez pas!
Des plans pour qu'y veulent pus jamais me voir!" (84). By threatening
to disown Linda, Germaine will be able to maintain some control over her
daughter until she marries. Then, never having learned to be
independent, Linda will undoubtedly try to exercise authority over her
children in the same way.

The shabbiness of Germaine's kitchen justifies her desire to
redecorate, but she over-reacts, and the result is a comic catalogue
scene which literally lives up to its name. Germaine is ecstatic as she
tells her sister Rose over the phone that she has enough stamps for
everything in the catalogue: ”J'pense que j'vas pouvoir toute prendre
c'qu'y'a d'dans! J'vas toute meubler ma maison en neufl" (19). She
then excitedly lists the things she wants, pausing to comment that a
friend has the same item, but paid a lot for it, or that a selection in
the catalogue is even lovelier than a similar one which she has seen
elsewhere. Her descriptions are filled with expressions from the
catalogue; for her bedroom she has chosen "un set de chambre style
colonial au grand complet avec accessoires" (20). There is even
furniture for children's rooms, and as she tells Rose, "...c'est de
toute beauté de voir ca! Avec des Mickey Mouse partout!" (21). Like a
puppet manipulated by commercial interests, Germaine abandons all
judgment. Instead of choosing what she likes and can use, she

automatically wants everything, even a curtain for a shower that she

49

does not have. The catalogue, with its glowing illustrations and
descriptions, offers the hope of a whole new world where people are
always winners. And so Germaine wants it all, eagerly anticipating the
moment when she will experience the happiness and success displayed in
her catalogue. In Germaine's case, the comsumer society is shown to be
a dehumanizing and alienating influence, giving her the illusion of
freedom and power when in truth others define her tastes and determine
her choices. The problem is compounded by the fact that it is only by
chance that she is able to choose, even from the catalogue. Her new-
found power is thus doubly deceptive. It is also short-lived.

The helleeeeeenre see in Germaine's good fortune a galling reminder
that they are always losers. Early in the play, one woman after another
describes contests she has entered. 'Pis, avez-vous gagné quequ'chose,
toujours?‘ someone inevitably asks, only to be told: ”J'ai-tu l'air de
quequ'un qui a deja gagné quequ'chose!” (41, 44, 46, 47). Insensitive
to her guests' feelings, Germaine boasts of how her life will change.
As a winner, she will participate in the highly advertized "good life"
which. they all have dreamed of. Irritated by her smug attitude, and
annoyed that she does not offer them some stamps in return for helping
her, the women soon begin taking stamps. To preserve their image of
respectability, they rationalize the theft as only fair, since Germaine
had done nothing to "deserve” the stamps.

The woman who complains the most bitterly of her life as a loser,
and of the unjust forces that ultimately control her life is Marie-Ange
Brouillette. In a long monologue, she speaks for the majority of the
women who subscribe to her basic outlook even if they do not all share

her intense bitterness and self-loathing. Germaine's catalogue in hand,

 

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Marie-Ange begins by contrasting her own situation with that of her
lucky neighbor. Only the worst happens to her, Marie-Ange maintains:
"Moe, j'mange d'la marde, pis j'vas en manger toute ma vie" (21). As
her language shows, she feels irrevocably condemned to a life of
debasement and humiliation. Carmine, on the other hand, will enjoy a
houseful of new things which she does not deserve: "On peut dire que la
chance tombe toujours sur les ceuses qui 1e méritent pas! Que c'est qu'a
l'a tant faite, madame Lauzon, pour mériter ca, hein? Rien! Rien
pantoute!” (22). Marie-Ange sees Germaine's prize as another sign of
life's gross inequity, evidence that the world is ruled by a cruel and
capricious fate.

The luck to which Marie-Ange refers is reminiscent of the diety
whom Le Moyne was taught to fear in his childhood, the "Dieu comme une
foudre aveugle et traitresse, un hazard personnifié."5 As far as Marie-
Ange is concerned, the force which controls her life is also blind,
treacherous, and indifferent to what is good and just. Feeling abused
and cheated, Marie-Ange can only protest ”C'est pas justel" at the
thought of how comfortable Germaine's life will be in comparison to her
own (22). By blaming luck for everything that happens, she implies that
no one is responsible, and that no one can remedy the situation.
Certainly she does not blame herself, or even Germaine, although she
feels justified in preventing Germaine from enjoying an undeserved
prize. She quotes approvingly the priest who said that contests should
be "embolie," but goes no farther in her attempt to understand the luck
which she claims is the source of life's injustice (22). The women who
take Germaine's stamps instinctively feel the need for a more equitable

society, but shaped by their authoritarian milieu, they perpetuate

l;

 

51

authoritarianism and its accompanying injustices. Believing themselves
condemned to mediocrity, if not failure, they undercut each other to
maintain reassuring group conformity.

Of all the speeches in the play, none more clearly depicts the
automaton conformity of the helleeeeeenre than the first choral
recitation, “une maudite vie plate.” It develops from the remarks of
Marie-Ange Brouillette, as she resentfully compares Germaine's situation
with her own: "C'est pas juste,” she complains, "Chus tannée de
m'esquinter pour rien! Ma vie est plate! Plate! Pis par-dessus le
marché, chus pauvre comme la gale! Chus tannée de vivre une maudite vie
plate!” (22). As she speaks, four other women enter, and when she has
fininshed, they all stand together, facing the audience. The shift to
chorus is further accentuated by a change in lighting. Then the five
women formally announce in unison: 'Quintette: Une maudite vie plate!
Lundi!‘ (23). But before they can launch into an account of their daily
routines, one of the women begins a sentimental description of dawn; it
parodies the 19th century "roman du terroir” which idealized--and
falsified-~country life. The style and vocabulary are clearly not
typical of the h211§§a§2£9£§3 "Des que le soleil a commence a caresser
de ses rayons les petites fleurs dans les champs et que les petits
oiseaux ont ouvert leurs petits becs pour lancer vers le ciel leurs
petits cris...” (23). At this point the other women interrupt,
describing their prosaic dawn, and listing the day's unwelcome chores:
Les quatre autres: J'me leve, pis j'prépare le déjeuner! Des

toasts, du café, du bacon, des oeufs. J'ai
d'la misere que l'yable a réveiller mon monde.
Les enfants partent pour l'école, mon mari s'en

va travailler.

Marie-Ange Brouillette: Pas 1e mien, y'est chomeur. Y reste couché.

52

Les cinq femmes: La, la, j'travaille comme une enragée, jusqu'a
midi. J'lave. Les robes, les jupes, les bas,
les chandails les pantalons, les cannecons, les
brassieres, tout y passe! Pis frotte, pis
tord, pis refrotte, pis rince...C't'écoeurant,
j'ai les mains rouges, j't'écoeurée. J'sacre
(23).

As the day progresses, the housewives' growing irritability and
frustration is matched by the mood of the rest of the family; by the end
of the day, they say, "Quand le monde revient, j'ai l’air béte! Mon
mari sacre, les enfants braillent. . ." (24). Each day has its round of
unrewarding activities; the evenings are equally predictable: "Pis 1e
soir, on regarde la television!" (24). The chorus concludes, speaking
now for Marie-Ange and for helm everywhere: "Chus tannée de
mener une maudite vie plate! Une maudite vie plate! Une maudite vie
plate! Une mau. . ." (24). Abruptly ending their outburst, they begin to
chat as if they were completely unaware of what they had just said.

With wit and style, "une maudite vie plate" describes
simultaneously what the women do and how they feel about it. It is the
story of lives unlived, mainly because people are convinced that they
have no choice but to submit to their unrewarding routine. Recited in
unison, with rhythm and energy, the ode creates an atmosphere of
coercion which carries the women along, permitting neither rest nor
deviation from the way of life against which they are protesting.
Mechanically performing the tasks expected of them, the women want only
to get through the day's work, which is unappreciated by others and
meaningless to them. They complain, but no one listens, and eventually
even their complaints become routine. Other expressions of

dissatisfaction and frustration occur throughout the play, including the

muted, but often repeated "J'ai mon voyage." Although the W

53

are "fed up" and protest that they have ”had it," they perpetuate and
reinforce their routines rather than change them. By giving the women's
own words a dramatic, theatrical form, Tremblay reveals what the women
fail to realize: as We they have conformed to social
expectations, developing false selves at the expense of their
individuality. To compensate for their diminishing sense of self and
self-worth, they have become dependent on each other for reassurance
that they are doing the right thing. At present, they are their own
jailors. Almost every woman dreams of some form of escape; none is
fully aware of the extent to which she contributes to her own
confinement.

Conformity stifles spontaneity. It is not surprising, therefore,
that for excitement, the belleueenre turn to something which is
structured, requires no skill, and offers. the chance of winning a prize:
bingo. Winning means an opportunity to be an individual and to stand
out from the group; it is one of the few times when a belle-_seenr can be
recognized as superior without fear of group reprisal. And although it
depends on luck, winning provides an illusion of independence and
control.

In Act Two, nine women join in an "ode au bingo," a chorus
triggered by the announcement that bingo will conclude the evening at
the next parish social. Overjoyed at the news, five of the women talk
about what bingo means in their lives. First they describe their
anticipation and excitement as the night of the game approaches. Then
they act out a game, with the other four women calling out the numbers
'en contrepoint, d'une facon tres rythmée," according to the stage

directions (87). At last the desired "B 14," and an exultant "Bingo!

54

Bingo! J'ai gagné!‘ (87). The prize? Last month it was a plaster door
stop in the form of a dog, this month it will be floor lamps.
Unanimously the women cheer: "Vive les chiens de platre! Vive les
lampes torcheres! Vive 1e bingo!” (87).

As in the recitation of "Une maudite vie plate," a change of
lighting has announced the departure from conventional dialogue, and as
before, the women take positions along the front of the stage to face
the audience and express themselves automatically. The tension is
genuine, but it is initiated by a contrived situation which stimulates
and channels their excitement. A familiar routine, with the tantalizing
hope of winning a prize, fills them with an enthusiasm which they cannot
generate by themselves . Thus they remain dependent on something
external and artificial to heighten their anticipation and subsequent
emotional release. Bingo is not simply a game which adds to the fun of
a church social; it is an important substitute for self-expression and
spontaneity, giving the helleemre a deceptive sense of power and
success as well.

Bingo may not be an ideal means for a woman to assert her
individuality within her social group, but it does encourage a certain
cohesiveness. This cannot be said of the numerous petty quarrels, or
'chicanes," as they are called, which constantly erupt during the
evening, setting the women against each other over trivial matters. The
disputes serve as temporary outlets for the women's frustrations, and
allow them to express themselves forcefully and ”stand up for their
rights” within the norms accepted by their group. None of the pellee-
m, however, is capable of discussing truly personal matters. Some

of the women dare not reveal their thoughts and feelings because they

55

fear group disapproval and possible censure; others, unconscious of
their existence as individuals, have nothing personal to say. Under
these circumstances, neither dialogues nor monologues could be used
realistically to exteriorize the characters' inner state; Tremblay
therefore has his characters talk about themselves in a frankly
theatrical, non-realistic way. The action on stage is suspended, and
only the speaker is lighted as she addresses the audience. Through her
monologue, listeners may learn to know her better than she knows
herself.

This is the case with Yvette Longpré who tells about the major
event of her life, her daughter's wedding. Still playing her role as
mother of the bride, Yvette describes an artificial, saccharine
celebration in which the rites and symbols of a sacrament have been so
exploited that the original meaning has been forgotten. For her, the
whole institution of marriage is reduced to a wedding and honeymoon, and
is summed up in a layer of inedible wedding cake which has been
carefully preserved to immortalize the most beautiful moment in a
woman's 1ife--her wedding day. The emptiness of Yvette's life is
equally evident in a second monologue. Like a wound-up mechanical toy,
she lists the more than fifty guests at a party for her sister-in-law;
the names are recited automatically, without thought or meaning, as if
Yvette were a machine, and the guests a series of unrelated objects--a11
that remains of the extended Quebec family. A complete automaton,
Yvette is probably incapable of meaningful human relationships.
Surrounded by socially-approved images of marriage and family life, she

never suspects that these images are superficial, and that her life is

empty .

56

From the moment Lisette de Courval enters with her mink stole
draped. around her shoulders, it is evident that she is conforming to
what she considers to be the code of a more desirable social class. Her
stole and her trip to France are important to her as symbols of her
economic and cultural attainment, and her title as "présidente de la
Supplique a Notre Dame du Perpétuel Secours" indicates that she is
socially prominent as well as prosperous. Aware that the language of
the h211£§;§2§fl1§ is inappropriate for a "présidente" with social
aspirations, she tries to demonstrate that her own French is refined as
well as correct. The trite description of dawn which precedes the ode to
'la maudite vie plate'I was hers, and she conscientiously corrects her
errors, changing ”mod” to ”moi,” and 'ben" to "bien.” In her zeal,
however, she overcorrects and mispronounces both "Europe" and "parler."
The helleeeeeeere are unimpressed by her efforts, but when Lisette calls
Marie-Ange "mal embouchée' for using the word “chier,” her criticisms do
not go unanswered (25). 'J'parle comme j'peux, pis j'dis c'que j'ai a
dire, c'est toute!" retorts Marie-Ange; ”Chus pas t'allée en Urope, moé,
chus pas t'obligée de me forcer pour bien perler,” she adds, mimicking
her critic (25). Such remarks only reinforce Lisette's determination to
leave behind the helleeeeeenre with their constant bickering and crude
language. Her monologue occurs after a spate of noisy quarreling in
which she does not participate. Turning to the audience, Lisette
contrasts ”Urope” with the present milieu, which she contemptuously
likens to a barnyard. Then she adds:

A Paris, tout le monde perle bien, c'est du vrai francais
partout...C'est pas comme icitte...J'les méprise toutes! Je
ne remettrai jamais les pieds ici! Leopold avait raison,

c'monde-la, c'est du monde eheen, y faut pas les fréquenter, y
faut meme pas en parler, y faut les cacher! Y savent pas

‘LJ" - ‘V ‘“' ‘ I

57

vivre! Nous autres on est sortis de la, pis on devrait pus
jamais revenir! Mon Dieu que j'ai donc honte d'eux-autres!
(author's emphasis, 59). -

The monologue adds a new dimension to Lisette's character. Much of
the time she is a comic figure whose misguided attempts to speak
Parisian French make it obvious that imitation will not solve her
language problems--or Quebec's, for that matter. At this level, she is
Tremblay's answer to all the purists who had ever advocated that the
people of Quebec should sound and write like Frenchmen. But the
intensity of Lisette's scorn for the h211§§;§22§1§ must surely be
understood as having its source in her own profound sense of insecurity
which has become inseparably associated with language. Quebec's elite
had traditionally taken pride in maintaining a French which was
uncontaminated by the bastardized language of the lower classes. Since
jenel identifies her as belonging to the lower class, Lisette is trying
to replace it with a French which she thinks will entitle her to a new
position of superiority. She believes that she has made great progress,
but the helleeeeeenre see only pretense, and do not consider her to be
any better than they are. As far as they are concerned, she is still one
of them; they refuse to acknowledge the new identity which she is trying
to establish. *

Although Lisette is the most superficial of snobs, with no genuine
interest in language, her underlying feelings of self-doubt and
inferiority are real. She is trying to change by imposing one false
self over another, and feels more vulnerable than ever because she has
no social group with which she can identify. Her isolation and
alienation are tied to her misunderstanding of language and her

dependence on arbitrary language standards set by a social class

58

desiring to maintain its own power and authority. The lesson is clear
that Quebec must do what Lisette is incapable of doing: establish its
own values and create a language which encourages communication across
class lines within Quebec, and within the larger Francophone community
as well.

Since no men are present at Germaine's party, the women are free to
talk about them. The traditional notion of man as the authority figure
is fading; in the most fully described incident of the father's
authority, the father suffers a heart attack and dies while disciplining
his daughter at the supper table! Men are often discussed in terms of
their earning power, as we have already seen in Germaine's efforts to
persuade Linda to choose a boyfriend with a bright economic future.
Marie-Ange's husband is unemployed, which explains why she is the
poorest woman in the group. Lisette, on the other hand, has been able to
afford a fur stole and a trip to Europe, thanks to her husband's hard
work and willingness to borrow. Although women take into account the
man's income, they do not always find security. Lise will reveal to
Linda that she is pregnant; she was not passionately in love, but her
boyfriend gave her so many gifts that she thought he would marry her.
Instead, he disappeared when he learned of her pregnancy. Pierrette too
has been abandoned by a lover. According to the moral code of the
h211§1:§2§!1§. however, women are to blame for the outcome if they
engage in sexual activity outside of marriage. Lise and Pierrette merit
censure, not sympathy. The general conversation includes many
references to sex, allowing the women to hint at a subject which excites
them, but which they cannot discuss openly. Marriage.apparently is not

expected to offer sexual satisfaction; the husband has legitimate sexual

59

needs, the woman has a duty to satisfy them, and if she is lucky, she
will not have too many pregnancies, or 'a protracted period of
childbearing. Among the helleeeeeenre there is only one woman willing to
admit that she lacks sexual fulfillment.

Des-Neiges Verrette, being unmarried, believes it is important for
her to have a good reputation, yet she is willingly coaxed to tell a
joke about a nun who enjoyed being raped. The joke is well received,
but Des-Neiges is upset by the suggestion that something is "going on"
between her and the man who told her the story, Henri Simard, the brush
salesman. Assured that the remark was not serious, Des-Neiges is
relieved: ”Vous m'avez faite asez peur! Moe, une demoiselle si
respectable!" (51). Des-Neiges Verrette clearly has more than a casual
interest in Henri Simard, but since he is not even her fiance, this
”respectable“ woman is in no position to discuss publicly what he means
to her. It is therefore to the audience that she turns with her story,
and if her language remains discreet, she is nonetheless honest about
her feelings. Henri Simard brightens her dull life with stories; some
concern his travels, but others are dirty, she admits. She has always
liked ”les histoires un peu salées," she confesses, adding "J'trouve que
ca fait du bien de center des histoires cochonnes, des fois..." (53).
She dreams of marrying him, but does not expect it. All she can hope
for are his monthly visits: ”Si y s'en va, j'vas rester encore tu-
seule, pis j'ai besoin...d'aimer...(Elle baisse les yeux et murmure.)
J'ai besoin d'un homme" (53-54). Des-Neiges welcomes the sexual aspect
of marriage, but does not think that she can do anything to change her

present situation. Since traveling brush salesmen have a reputation as

60

Don Juans, it seems likely that Des-Neiges Verrette will remain "tu-
seule,” a nice, respectable spinster with a taste for spicy stories.

Angeline Sauvé and Rhéauna Bibeau, spinsters in their sixties, have
been confined to an even more limited milieu than Des-Neiges Verrette,
devoting their lives to the church, parish activities, and each other.
The nature of their devotion is brought out in their spotlighted
dialogue. They have just come from calling hours at a funeral parlor,
and are in the midst of sharing the news that each one gathered.
Fascinated with death, they marvel that the late Monsieur Baril,
scarcely forty, should die while they have not yet been "taken" despite
their poor health. Rhéauna insists that her condition is far more
serious than Angeline's: “J'ai souffert bien plus que toi, Angeline!
Dix-sept operations! J'ai pus rien qu'un poumon, un rein, un sein...Ah!
j'en.ai-tu arrache, rien qu'un peu...” (63). Poor health and suffering
have been her life's work; they give her a sense of purpose and hope of
salvation. Nevertheless, she worries that she might die before receiving
last rites. Angeline assures her friend that even without them, she
would go straight to heaven. Secretly Rhéauna agrees; but now that she
has demonstrated her own piety, she can point an accusing finger at the
unforgivable sins of others.

The mention of sin soon brings Rhéauna to the subject of Pierrette
Guérin. "Si y'a quelqu'un que j'peux pas sentir, c'est ben Pierrette
Guérin!" she explains, "Une vraie dévergondée! Une vraie honte pour sa
famille! J'te dis, Angeline, que j'voudrais pas voir son Ame, elle! A
doit étre noire rare!” (67). Angeline disagrees: "Voyons, Rhéauna, au
fond, Pierrette, c'est pas une mauvaise fille!" (68). Until now

Angeline and Rhéauna have both been stereotypes, yet believable in their

61

conformity to a code emphasizing submissiveness, suffering, and death.

Rhéauna's hostility toward Pierrette, however, sugests a desire to

destroy any reminder of her own empty life. She is not alone in her

Se1f-r:ighteous condemnation; the three Guérin sisters, Germaine, Rose,

and Gabrielle, agree that Pierrette is a fallen woman, "une vraie catin"

(69) - Germaine has already repudiated her, in fact. Finally, when

the audience has been introduced to her reputation, Pierrette

unexpectedly appears, precipitating a crisis: she and Angeline are

friends .

For much of Act Two, the pasting and theft of Germaine's stamps

°°nt1nue as an ironic backdrop against which is played out the drama of
an"tli‘I-er moral issue, the acceptable expression of sexuality in the world
°f the 'belles-soeurs". It begins with the mini-drama of the friendship
batwgen Pierrette and Angeline. Singly, in small groups, and in unison,
th° Women express their horror as they learn that Angeline is a Friday
“1311‘: regular at the nightclub where Pierrette works. ”C'est ben
efifrayanun exclaim several; "C'est ben épouvantable!” agree others
(76) - Wenty-year-old Linda and two friends are no doubt equally
s‘lwtp‘l'ised, but do not disapprove; I'C'est 1e. fun!” they retort (77).
The spotlight focuses again on Angeline and Rhéauna, but this time,
:hQ it speeches will be interrupted. The other women, although they

bgt
use to listen, cannot remain silent. Their remarks mingle with those

Q
who also

Angeline as she tries to explain her behavior to Rhéauna,
bfit
uses to listen, saying 'T's pus mon amie, Angeline. J'te connais

D“
Q 3 " (77). No matter how innocent her behavior at the club may have

the harm is done--she was there. "Le club! Un vrai endroit de

Q
k‘ddtionv' cry Pierrette's three sisters, and the other women agree:

 

62

"Ah! endroit maudit, endroit maudit! C'est la qu'on perd son Ame" (77).

"Le club, mais c'est l'enfer!” concludes Rhéauna (78). Pierrette's

laugl'xter, and her wish to spend eternity in a "hell" like the club where

She works, alarm her sisters: 'Farme-toé, Pierrette, c'est la diable

qui parle par ta bouche!" The chorus of young women protests that their

eldekrs exaggerate, the older generation replies in chorus "Ah!

Jeunesses aveugles! Jeunesses aveugles! Vous allez vous pardre,

PRWIes jeunesses..." (78). The women now repeat the age-old

admonitions heard in church and in their families since they were

chL3_<iren. It is a sin, they insist, a mortal sin. 'On nous 1'a assez

répété: ‘Mettre 1e pied dans un club, c'est déja faire un péché

mttel," say the three sisters (79).

Angeline again pleads with the eellee-Jeenre to listen to her

”(P lanation. “Jamais! Vous avez pas d'excuses!” they reply (79). Then

Rhéauna announces that she will not speak to her again until she

promises not to return to the club. Angeline lmows that she must make a

Chg ice. Once more in the spotlight, Angeline tells the audience of her
need. for friendship and fun. ”Le monde que j'ai rencontré dans c'te
°1‘-1‘b-1a, c'est mes meilleurs amis!” she confesses, but adds that she has
always known that sooner or later her secret would be discovered, and
she would have to choose. She decides, of course, to maintain her place
L11 «Society, and reluctantly complies with the moral code of the M
N. "Apres toute," she concludes, "Rhéauna vaut mieux que
:Plgrrette" (82). She leaves to consult Abbé Castelnaud, and returns
later, repentant and submissive. She would like to say goodby to
P.‘Lel‘rette, but Rhéauna objects. ”Non, tu s'rais mieux de pus y parler

D
a“t‘toute!” Rhéauna warns, and Angeline abandons the idea (105).

63

The voice of the majority has carried the day. In her monologue,
Angeline has movingly described her joyless life: ”J'ai été élevée dans
198 salles paroissales par des soeurs qui faisaient c'qu'y pouvaient
mais qui connaissaient rien, les pauvres! J 'ai appris a rire a
cinquante-cinq ans! Pis par hasard! Parce que Pierrette m'a emmenée
dang son club, un soir!“ (81). But no one will listen; on the subject

°f clubs, the pelleteeeere are of one mind and speak with one voice:

ell-lbs are wicked, evil places, dens of iniquity which corrupt all who
enter,

The women's attitude should come as no surprise. During the

1950 's, clubs and taverns had been subject to frequent public attack
from Montreal's archbishop, Paul-Emile Léger. "Montreal est une ville
d° tavernss,‘ une ville de clubs, of: l'on perd son Ame,” he warned;
Willa-Marie est devenue la ville du péché. . .A Montreal, on se rit de
Dieu et on lui creche ouvertement au visage. . ."6. The women thus feel
conIIJIetely justified in condemning Angeline, and do not want to hear how
“Stet years of loneliness, she made friends and learned to laugh. "J'ai
appris a rire" is repeated and hangs over her monologue like an echo as
81mg accepts the inevitable and decides to give up the club forever.
Fro“ the standpoint of the hellegeeenre, Angeline Sauvé is saved!

How could Angeline afford to rebel? Except for two hours on Friday
ekx’g‘l'ling, her life is spent with Rhéauna in activities related to the
pa1:2181'1; without them, she would have no life at all. The significance of
At‘géldne's situation is dramatized by the ominous, pervasive chorus.
l'hg two odes, although highly stylized, allow the women to use their own
word-s to express the way they all feel about the life they lead. In the

QQ
Qt‘les involving Angeline and Pierrette, the choral responses are based

.64

on things the women have been told. If the words seem to flow

sPontaneously, it is only because they have been heard so often that

they have been internalized; the powerful voice of Church authority has

become second nature. In 'spite of vocabulary associated with

Christianity, the chorus seems pagan, and speaks for a universe which
lacks spontaneity and joy, where people unwittingly impose upon
tileumselves a moral code that stifles laughter and the wonderful freedom
it brings. In the case of Pierrette Guérin, the moral code proves
destructive.

Once properly confessed and renounced, Angéline's evenings at the
alt-11> can be forgiven, Pierrette's situation is quite different. As a
bright and pretty teenager, she seemed to have a promising future. Then
“he met Johnny, who, as the three sisters all agree, caused her
“Winfall: ”Le maudit Johnny! Un vrai demon sorti de l'enfer! C'est de
8a faute si est devenue come a l'est astheur! Maudit Johnny! Maudit
Johtmy!‘ (69). Now a nightclub hostess, Pierrette represents debased
womanhood and dangerous sexuality, tempting husbands to spend time and
motley which should rightfully go to their wives and families. The
We are unanimous: "C'est la qu'on perd son Ame. Maudite
b0 issson, maudite danse! C'est la que nos maris perdent la téte pis
cléDensent toutes leurs payes avec des femmes damnées!" (77-78). To this
thg three sisters add "Des femmes damnées comme toé, Pierrette!" (79).
GI“'en Pierrette's reputation as an immoral woman, it is understandable
that Germaine tries to discourage Linda's conversations with Pierrette.
R033 is the only one of the sisters who can imagine how "tu-seule"

p
ifitrette must feel, but when the subject turns to sex, Rose too wants

E
Q exclude her sister from the group. "Chus catholique!" she heatedly

;

 

65

Cells Pierrette, who has just mentioned the pill; "Reste donc dans ton
monde pis laisse-nous donc tranquilles! Maudite guidoune!" (100).

In spite of her sisters' cruel words, Pierrette shows no signs of
anger, guilt, or shame. She has come only to see people and to help
with the stamps. “J'ai pas 1a lépre!” she tells Germaine, promising,
“Aprés la soirée, si tu veux, j'reviendrai pus jamais..." (80-81). Not
until the parallel monologues of Pierrette and Lise can the audience
ful I}: appreciate Pierrette's present dilemma. Lise has confided to
Linda that she is pregnant, with no hope that the child's father will
”try her. Pierrette, who has overheard them, suggests (abortion. Linda
is horrified, but Lise is desperate; to have a baby would mean the end
°f all her dreams. She wants to get somewhere, she says, to have a car
“d a nice place to live. “Attends deux-trois ans, pis tu vas voir que
LL88 Paquette a va devenir quelqu'un! Des cennes, a va n'avoir, O.K.?"
(9°) . Pierrette understands. "J'sais c'que c'est de vouloir gagner ben
do 1 ' argent," she tells Lise; at the club, there was money to be made,
and Johnny promised she would have her share (91) . At the mention of

Johtmy, the three sisters automatically chorus "Maudit Johnny," but
“31“:illough they blame him, they have no sympathy for Pierrette (91).

Since her sisters are unwilling to listen, Pierrette tells the
a“It‘s-Ilence about her life on the Main. Head-over-heels in love with
Johnny, she worked in his club for ten years, using her good looks to
at‘tlract customers. Now he says she is too old and unattractive to do
hex. job, and has turned her out without a penny. At thirty she is
tj~t1ZLshed, but Lise is is still young enough to start over. Pierrette
concludes the first part of her monologue with "J'le sais pas c'que

J vas devenir, j'le sais pas pantoute!" (94). At the other end of the

 

66

kitchen, Lise repeats Pierrette's words as she begins to tell about her
own misfortunes. How lucky Pierrette is to have a good job and to be
in love, she exlaims. Pierrette's monologue picks up immediately: "Y
m'a laisse tomber comme une roche!" (95). Too proud to tell what has
haP£>ened, she counts on alcohol to help her forget her problems. When
She and Lise have both finished, although she has not heard what Lise
said to the audience, Pierrette holds out her arms to comfort her. It
is the only gesture of compassion in the play.

Unlike Angeline, Pierrette cannot repent and be received back into
tha circle of the helm; her attitudes and values are too
diE feront. Although single, she loved Johnny and through him had a job
3119 enjoyed and was proud of. She had no doubts about her own worth
“at 11 Johnny grew tired of her; then she realized that her "worth" was
eP‘T'Iemeral, for it had depended on youth. She finds this situation cruel
and unfair, but sees herself much as Johnny does: a consumer product
dapendent on the desires of others for her value. She must accept her
fate; if she is no longer found attractive, she is therefore no longer
of value. It is not hard to imagine that she will soon destroy herself
"1 t1: her drinking.

Lise Paquette has also tried to escape the world of the 291.122
N. Motivated less by love than by materialistic goals, she
nevertheless rebels angrily against her degrading life of borderline
I)t)"erty. "J'sais que chus cheap, mais j'veux m'en sortir!" she cries
(9°) . But while she vows to change her life, she makes no plans.
Alrfiady blaming her pregnancy on bad luck, she will probably give the
giialllfie reason for her failure to find a better job, and in the end will

Q
ohtinue to be "une p'tite waitress cheap du Kresge" (95). Her life

67

will not change until she knows how to change it, but at least she has a

Stated goal: "s'en sortir.” In this respect, she is different from

most: of the other women in Germaine's kitchen.

Tremblay skillfully juxtaposes the monologues of Lise‘ and Pierrette
into a moving duet of defeat and despair; in doing so, he also calls
alite‘ntion to the two women's inability to confide completely in each

Other. The support that Pierrette has given Lise is not enough, and

Pierrette too is in need of help. Both women have disobeyed the moral

COG-e of their society; already Pierrette is rejected by her family, and
Lise fears that her father will beat her if he discovers that she is
Pre gnant. But there will be more in store for her than a beating if she
has a child out of wedlock. Soon after Lisa's conversation with Linda
and Pierrette, the women begin to discuss Monique Bergeron, a girl
thought to be hearing her step-father's child. The cruel gossip angers
LLse , who is keenly aware of Monique's need for the women's help and
cD‘Ill'bassion.

Rose Ouimet is the most outspoken in her condemnation of unwed
no there. She puts the entire blame on Monique whose short shorts were an
"imitation," she says. Although she obviously has little sympathy for
th§ girls who ”get themselves raped,“ Rose expresses complete contempt
for the rest: "C'est des bon-riennes pis des vicieuses qui courent
aprés les homes! Mon mari appelle ca des agace-pissettes, lui!" (100).
R633 has already said with some bitterness that her husband is a
Qc‘ehon," over-sexed like all the men in his family (28-29). In her
View men are animals, seeking nothing but their own pleasure. Women are
8“"I‘151308ed to be different; for them sexual activity has only one

s
Q'31ally approved purpose, conception. But for all her references to

68

sex, and even obsession with it, Rose cannot openly discuss her

Concerns, even with her sisters. She turns -to the audience with her

Story of her husband's endless demands, and her belief that once

lnarrried, a woman can never say no. "Maudit cul!" she exclaims angrily,

recalling that at the time of marriage, her concept of "la Sainte-Union

d“ mariage" was completely unrealistic (102). She did not know what a

woman was obliged to endure, but she has made sure to warn her daughter:

" - ca fait longtemps que j'ai dit c'qu'y valent, les homes" (102). Now

f0l’ty-four, she would like to walk away and start life anew, but "les
fen-mes, y peuvent pas faire ca. . .Les femmes sont poignées a'gorge pis y

Vorat rester de meme jusqu'au boute!" (102).

Rose feels trapped, yet she has contributed to her own entrapment

by accepting the idea that she cannot refuse her husband's demands "deux

f0 is par jour, trois cent soixante-cinq jours par annee" (102). She was

“'5‘- ignorant bride, she says, but it is not simply ignorance which
a‘:'-‘-<-=<>unts for her failure to question the role of sex in marriage. Just
“‘8 Pierrette has allowed society to define her as a sex object and to
determine her worth in terms of her attractiveness to men, so Rose has
a‘Q‘ZIthed as law the notion that it is a wife's responsibility to satisfy
he): husband's sexual desires.

Nevertheless, is Rose not suspiciously over-zealous in fulfilling

hg‘: responsibilities? Perhaps what she cannot admit, even to herself,
1a

that she does not want to say no to sex, but to the insensitive

e

a{‘Dflression of sex that results from the belief that only men are
a

upposed to experience physical desire. If society recognized women's
8

me1 needs, Rose's husband might consider her desires as well as his

0
wt‘ - As it is, he probably assumes that his sole responsibility is

69

Procreation. In the world of the W, only unmarried women

have the right to say no, a r-ight that Rose envies because it gives a

Woman some control over her sex life. Rose also envies the women who

°Penly acknowledge their desires, and who apparently find fulfillment,

for she is denied that as well. Rose thus loses on several accounts:

she neither refuses nor transforms her sexual relationship with her

hUSband, and in her frustration perpetuates the very system which

con-fines her. She relieves men of responsibility for their sexual

cc"Ilduct, and condemns as immoral any woman who betrays the slightest

e"ii-dance of sexuality. In sum, although Rose appears to conform to the
til-‘axlitional role for women, she is both frustrated and humiliated by
Illle‘x'iage.

The closing scene of the play provides a memorable image of
cot‘aformity. When the guests have left, taking with them nearly all the
stamps, Germaine, 'tu-seule," weeps bitterly for the dream that almost
came true. Then in the distance she hears the women singing. Drying
he): tears, she stands at attention in her disordered kitchen, and joins
the others to sing the Canadian national anthem. Her behavior is
a""1‘ttamatic; she conforms and never wonders why. The harmonious singing
of ”O Canada" makes an ironic conclusion for an evening filled with
l:‘<)St:ility and conflict, especially since it also illustrates the women's
cube(iience to convention. Whatever its meaning for Tremblay and the
Q\“’§bec audience, the choice of "O Canada“ has no special significance
to): the apolitical Elma; it is simply the song that they are
uged to hearing at certain public events. Superficially, Germaine's
ge‘stmre suggests reconciliation and restored good will, but in fact,

‘13 thing has changed; she is merely obeying convention, as usual. The

 

70

18¢k of change is further emphasized by the shower of stamps which falls
on Germaine as she sings. Another absurd cycle will no doubt take
Place, for Germaine has learned nothing from her experience. The
trading stamp catalogue still represents the dream she longs to realize,
and she still believes that her only chance of winning is to "play the
Eadie ." So too, the other women will continue their already established
Patterns of behavior, thus perpetuating a social system which encourages
coInformity, not freedom.
The fresh supply of stamps, unrealistic yet perfectly in keeping
with the theme of luck, is a final theatrical gesture to remind the
sPe<ztators that they have been watching a play, and to invite them to
th 111k about it as a reflection of contemporary society in general, and
°E Quebec in particular. As Tremblay explained in an interview in 1980,
h- believes that the playwright's task is to raise, not answer,
questions: 'Je ne suis pas la pour démontrer quelque chose, pour
montrer au monde a vivre. Qui suis-je pour montrer 1e chemin? Je suis
1&- pour me poser des questions avec tout le monde. Puis, nous reglerons
nos problemes tout le monde ensemble."7 Furthermore, since the text of
a play is by its nature incomplete, subject to new interpretations each
time it is performed, it is not so much a vehicle for imposing a single
9° int of view as a means for exploring basic problems which may be
eatparienced in many different ways. As for the spectator, Tremblay said,
'- 11 doit refaire 1e puzzle qu'on lui présente. Le thédtre est fait de
moreeaux que tu donnes au spectateur et que celui-ci doit mettre
etigemble.” This task, in his opinion, is one which most spectators

f
1‘16 challenging and ultimately pleasurable. Certainly, Les—Belles;

71

we is composed of many pieces, and subject to numerous
interpretations .
One way of treating the puzzle of MM: is to see it as
a portrait gallery of women who are unable to conceive of freedom
because they have consistently been taught to rely on others to tell
them who they are and how to behave. Even though the ideal of "la sainte
et féconde maternité," as Bourassa had called it fifty years before, has
become "une maudite vie plate," most of the women still accept the view
that a woman's place is in the home, and expect to maintain the
traditional authoritarian family structure. The repressive moral code,
a barrier to mutually satisfying sexual relationships, contributes to
the 11 alienation. Nevertheless most of the women enforce rather than
challenge it, and perpetuate the notion that the flesh is inevitably
corrupt. Ultimately, whether they are conformists or rebels, the women
find no alternative to the destiny which generations of French Canadians
han summed up in the expression ”nés pour le petit pain." In
pro ttesting that her family treats her like a “sarvante," Germaine Lauzon
e"‘1-7’1‘esses something that they all feel, but cannot explain: they are
be 11113 used for purposes not their own. In short, they are alienated.
Much has been written about the hopelessness of the situation
dep 1cted in W. In 1968, hailing the play as an example
of a. long-awaited “thédtre québécois de liberation," Jean-Claude Germain
8x1) lained that the spectators are encouraged to observe rather than
hiel'nzify with the characters, and are therefore "set free" to reject the
excllees, self-pity, and conformity typical of people's attitudes in
Q“‘Q1>ec.9 But if the spectators are liberated, the characters are not.

P
oV‘Velrless and completely lacking in spontaneous will, they are incapable

72

of change. ”On ne sort pas de ce ghetto-la," Germain concluded.10

Alain Pontaut went still further; he saw no possibility of freedom for

the women, and no evidence that Tremblay believed it possible:
On chercherait en vain, pour l'une quelconque de ces
femmes. . .l'amorce d'une solution ou méme d’un élan de coeur,
l'esquisse d'une possibilité, 1e commencement d'une espérance,
l'ombre d'une porte de sortie. Une hermétique enclos les
retient prisonnieres, insectes vénimeux dans un bocal clos et
qui achevent d'étouffer, objets d'une entomologie ferocément
impassible de la part d'un auteur qui n'est point la sans
doute pour leur dinner de l'air, mais qui ne croit nullement
a leur liberation. .

Perhaps Pontaut is correct, but even if Tremblay believed that his
characters could never liberate themselves, the fact remains that not
all of the women are complete automatons. Some, like Pierrette, Lise,
Rose, and Des-Neiges have clung to a few shreds of integrity, and
11 though she submits to Rhéauna's demands, Angeline appears to conform
"11y because of practical considerations. Her basic values and feelings
t:o‘flard Pierrette do not change. And having learned to laugh, perhaps
she will be more aware of the possibilities which life offers, even
though she is not in a position to take advantage of them.

Laughter is a liberating experience, not just for Angeline, but for
tha audience as well. In discussing spectator response to Lg; Belles-
%, Germain acknowledges that some may identify with the characters,
and pity them, but laughter, he argues, is the most appropriate response
t

o the play: ”Des dépossédés qui s'appitoient sur eux-mémes ou qui se
m
éprisent eux-mémes, se dépossedent encore un peu plus. Rire de soi-
1!:
Que, rire de son impuissance, c'est reprendre possession de soi. C'est
d
63$ posséder."12
Germain's point is well taken. Laughter denies the assumption that

human beings are powerless automatons, mere tools to be used in the

73

service of some higher power, be it religious, economic, or political.
they are

achievement is to depict human beings who believe

Tremblay ' s
audience that

eternally trapped in a "bocal clos," while showing the
there is a "porte de sortie" which could be opened through joint effort.
of realism and

Moreover, due to Tremblay's successful blend
theatricality, the audience is able to recognize its own confinement in
that: of the characters, and see that it is the result of socially

imposed restrictions and taboos which society can lift if it so chooses.
soi;"

To laugh at W is indeed a sign of ”possession de
moreover, it justifies the hope that even the film; may someday
rej ect confining roles and norms, and thus "s'en sortir" from what they

have always perceived as a "no exit” situation.

Notes

1 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Le Summum de l'absurde, inspiré d'un
concours de vaches, devenait une réalité du jour au lendemain,” W
m. rpt. in MM: 152-153.

2 Jacques Cellard, L§_flgngg 25-26 nov. 1973: 19, quoted by Renate
Usmiani in W (Vancouver: Douglas and Mc Intyre, 1982) 31.

3 See text 2.

4 Michel Tremblay, MW (Montreal: Leméac, 1972) 15.
A151- further references will be contained in the text.

5 See text 26.

6 Paul-Emile Leger, quoted by Bernard Saint-Aubin in Duplg§§1§__gt
W (Montreal: Les Editions La Presse, 1979) 224.

7 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Michel Tremblay: du texte a la
reI3?I‘:ésentation," by Roch Turbide, W 7.2 (hiver 1982):223.

8 Michel Tremblay, interview by Turbide 221.

9 Jean-Claude Germain, "J'ai eu le coup de foudre," 1968, rpt. in

W 121.

10 Germain 123.

11 Alain Pontaut, introduction, Lg§_§g11g§;§ggu;§ v-vi.

12 Germain 124.

74

En_£1§ggg_§é§ggh§g§: The Disintegration of the Family

En_£1ggg§_d§;§§h§g§ was first performed on stage in 1969; a version

for television, which is the text being used here, had its premiere on
March 6, 1971. The play is made up of seven parts, or ”pieces,” which
record the disintegration of a family. The action takes place during
the mid- to late 1950s in the Montreal neighborhood which was the
setting for Lg§__§§11g§;§ggu;§. Several scenes occur in a "cour
intérieure' where women sit by open windows and on fire escapes and
balconies, trying to get a little fresh air on a hot summer evening; one
scene is in Nick's, a short-order restaurant, another takes place in the
Coconut Inn, a nightclub on Boulevard Saint-Laurent, or the Main, as it
is often called. The remaining scenes are set in Robertine's apartment,
which faces the courtyard. All of the characters appear in only. one
setting except Therese, a working wife and mother, who is in three. Her
mobility in comparison to the confinement of the bg11g§;§ggu;§ suggests
a determined effort to "s'en sortir," but each apparent "porte de
sortie” leads to a ”cul de sac." Each night she returns home to an
environment which further undermines her strength and makes independence
still more difficult to achieve.

The play opens with the women who are relaxing at the end of the
day, They introduce the familiar world of the h§116§-SQEEI§ and
eXplain the ”show" which will be presented during the course of the

eVening by Robertine and her family. The first to speak is Madame

75

76

Tremblay, calling her son Michel, who is outside on his bicycle. She
orders him home, but he never appears. The other children are equally
unresponsive to their mothers' cries. Shouts and noisy comments mingle
with quiet gossip. This is a world with no secrets, but references to
the latest pregnancy and to philandering husbands are veiled, enabling
the women to preserve a facade of respectability. Despite the
disturbance of mothers calling to their children, the women are
noticeably passive; no one gets up to enforce her child's bedtime rules,
or to get the cold Coke that her dawdling child does not bring.

The one woman who remains indoors is Robertine. Her problems are
public knowledge, and her noisy quarrels with her daughter never cease
to fascinate the listening neighbors. Thus when Robertine closes her
blind, all attention is focused on her. Individually and in unison, the
women begin to comment on the events and relate the story of ”1a folle
d'en face" (Robertine), her son-in-law Gerard, a ”maudit fou" who is now
a permanent invalid presumably due to an accident at work, and her
daughter Therese, a “maudite téte folle," who twenty years ago had

1

pursued and finally married Gerard, then a handsome ladies' man. As

she went off to her wedding, she defiantly called out to the watching

women: ”Chus peut-étre pas habillée en blanc, mais je l'ai, mon gars"
(18). The women were shocked. "A l'avait pas l'air d'un ange, a
l'avait l'air d'un demon!" recalls Madame Tremblay (18). The others

agree, repeating ”Maudite démonne!" (18). But Therese has since paid
dearly for her willfulness. Gérard never amounted to much, and she lost
a good job at the Coconut Inn because of her drinking. Now she works in
a cheap restaurant. There is no doubt, they chorus, "A vs finir dans un

trOu, pis c'est toute c'qu’a mérite!" (19). The women agree that Therese

77

deserves the fate which they are sure awaits her -- a "hole" from which
it will be impossible to "s'en sortir.” But even as they condemn her,
they watch eagerly for her return, waiting for her to express feelings
which they all share but cannot, or dare not, articulate.

Twice again the watching women will talk about Robertine and her
family; they speak as observers, not as friends, although Robertine was
born in the house where she now lives. First they recall Robertine's
husband, who spent his money on drink and other women, and then came
home to quarrel with his wife. Now it is Therese who drinks and then
quarrels with Robertine. Their fights are ”comme une obligation," says
one woman, “comme un besoin,“ adds another; "y peuvent pas s'en
empécher, y aiment ca,“ the women chorus, as if such behavior could not
be explained or understood (49). Robertine's son Marcel, thirty-five,
has been in a mental hospital for fifteen years. Different from other
children, he was small for his age, seldom left the house, and never
went to school. 'Un vrai p'tit monstre, avec ses yeux noirs, sans
expression, comme des smokes,” he seemed to have a grudge against the
.world, one woman recalls (69). When he set fire to Robertine's hair and
began smashing furniture, he was finally put in an asylum. But while the
women call Robertine, Therese, and Gerard "crazy," they do not consider
them insane. Their folly lies in their failure to conform to
neighborhood customs and expectations. Showing no sympathy or
compassion, the women watch the "show" with detached fascination.

Robertine agrees that she is different from her neighbors. She
would have liked a "normal" family life, but is convinced that her
Problems with her husband and children have set her apart. According to

the women, Robertine has always been secretive, deliberately trying to

78

hide her situation from them; Robertine feels that she has been
ostracized because of her family's behavior.~ She therefore withdraws
into the security of her apartment, convinced that she cannot join her
neighbors, who are enjoying an evening in the courtyard. "Mais non," she
says to herself as she looks out the window, ”j'ai pas le droit a ca non
plus! Faut dire que j'ai jamais eu droit a grand'chose, a'fin du
compte" (71). Yet because she has accepted her lot without complaint,
she also thinks that she cannot be held responsible for the way her life
has turned out. She did the best she could, she insists, but her
parents were ignorant, her husband unbearable, and her children not
normal. "C'est pas de ma faute," she repeats, as she reflects on her
life-long struggle (71).

Robertine perceives herself as defined by her role as mother and
controlled by external forces. Not once does she think of herself as an
individual with any freedom to decide how she will live, nor does she
question the validity of her role as mother. Nevertheless, she gloomily
predicts that she will eventually be abandoned by her children:

Soyez bonne pour vos enfants, tuez-vous pour eux autres pis y
vous le reprocheront toute leur vie! Pis vous finirez votre
vie tu-seule, abandonnée, dans un coin, comme une quéteuse
dans votre propre maison (71).
In this speech, Robertine epitomizes the long-suffering, martyred
mother, the figure so common in Quebec literature. A moment later,
however, she smiles as she recalls Therese playing with neighborhood
children, and Marcel asking for more stories; "...pis moé,
j'continuais...C'est mieux que rien," she concludes (71).
"Continuer" sums up Robertine's philosophy. She has kept going

dGapite countless difficulties and bleak prospects for the future.

Certainly she has much to endure: her son-in-law is a vegetable

79

spending his days in front of the television; her fifteen-year-old
granddaughter Joanne already thinks she is doomed to fail in any
occupation; and Therese, who is losing her grip on life, drinks heavily.
Although "continuer" is indeed better than nothing, it is closely
related to Robertine's passive acceptance of ”fate" and her assumption
that problems cannot be solved, only "suffered." When Therese comes
home drunk and abusive, for example, Robertine simply braces herself for

another unpleasant evening:

Ca recommence... Ca recommence... Un eternel
recommencement... Des annees que j'endure ca... Sans dire un
mot! Je l’aurai gagne, mon ciel, oui, que je l'aurai donc
gagne! Pis a l'a l'air d'etre dans une de ses pires
journees... Joanne, va falloir que tu m'aides... On va essayer
de la raisonner... Et pis non, ca servirait a rien. J'suppose
que va falloir toute encaisser sans rien dire! Les betises,
les reproches, les blasphemes... les caresses... Quelle soiree
en perspective! J'ai quasiment envie de sacrer mon
camp...(59).

Robertine does not seriously consider leaving, but treats the situation
as routine, as if she were unaware that Therese is steadily growing more
desperate. Robertine's solution, 'continuer,” is totally inadequate for
Therese, who is on the brink of self-destruction.

The scene at Nick's shows Therese at work. The opening shots focus
on dirty dishes as Therese and Lise call out the orders: "Un double
submarine all dressed, un grill cheese, deux cold slaw, deux cafes”
(23). The rapid pace of the orders, the hybrid language, and the sight
of dirty dishes combine to emphasize the sacrifice of human values to
convenience and cash. Organized according to a system which dehumanizes
the waitresses and the clients, the restaurant obviously does not offer
the possibility of meaningful work. In a conversation with other
employees during a slack period, Therese tells with satisfaction of how

she put a customer in his place, and advises Lise, a less experienced

80

waitress, on techniques for earning more tips. Lise, timid and naive,
is impressed with Therese's expertise. Mado, the cashier, thinks that
Therese is manoeuvering to get the best tables and perhaps even the
attentions of Nick, Mado's lover, who would then give Therese the best
job of all--cashier. Therese is dumbfounded by Mado's suspicions.
Although she was fired from her job at the Coconut Inn, she still views
herself as a nightclub waitress, and is insulted that Mado would think
she had any intention of staying for long at Nick's, even as cashier.
As far as Therese is concerned, Nick's is synonymous with ugliness and
humiliation. Working there further diminishes her self-esteem, but if
she antagonizes Mado, she risks losing even that job. Then her last
shred of self-confidence will be gone.

Humiliated and close to despair over the seeming hopelessness of
her situation, Therese cannot resist stopping at the Coconut Inn after
work. The barmaid, Lucille, has been a friend since childhood, and
represents what Therese had dreamed of being. She is "l'exemple parfait
de la ‘waitress de club arrivee," and has blossomed in her new position
as barmaid; "sa ‘superiorite' transpire par toutes les pores de sa
peau, ... tous ses gestes sont habituellement precis, surs, calcules,
voulus” (35). Furthermore, as the mistress of the club owner, she has
considerable authority over the other employees. No wonder Therese looks
upon her with both envy and admiration. Caught between genuine
affection for Therese and the knowledge that Therese will cause new
Problems for herself, Lucille does her best to prevent trouble. But
Thérese is too unhappy to be reasonable, and pours out her longing to

return to the club: "Lucille... Lucille.. . Si tu savais! C'est icitte,

ma place, Lucille! C'est icitte que chus t'heureuse!" (41). When

81

Lucille makes no reply, Therese goes on: "J'peux pas continuer a vendre
des smoked meats, chus pus capable! C'est les clubs, la rue Saint-
Laurent, la nuite, qui me faut! J'ai toujours vecu 1a nuite, Lucille!
J'aime ca!” (41). Lucille sympathizes, but although she agrees that
Therese was treated unfairly at the club, she also knows that because of
her past conduct, Therese will not be rehired. She was involved in
drunken brawls and also tried to discredit Lucille in hopes of winning
the job as barmaid. Lucille bears no grudge because she realizes that
Therese, undisciplined and weak, harms only herself.

Unlike Lucille, who understands and fulfills the requirements for a
successful nightclub waitress, Therese has never seriously considered
what is expected of her, nor has she thought through her own values.
Her main goal has always been to escape the life led by her mother and
neighbors. Consequently, she rejected the role of housewife, only to
choose an equally confining and ultimately destructive role.

In the background the Aurore sisters are heard singing about a girl
who got her wings singed upon leaving her family nest for the city:

Mefiez-vous, petites filles
De la grande ville vile
Restez avec votre mere
Vos freres, vos soeurs et votre pere! (41).
The refrain, like so many sermons and "romans de la terre" familiar to
earlier generations of French Canadians, warns that the city is immoral
and therefore dangerous; it is far better for a girl to stay home and
live as her parents have lived. In Tremblay's theatre, staying home
ifrvolves risk, too, but in this case the warning is significant. It is
followed by the arrival of Tooth-Pick, who works for Maurice, the club

owner, and takes care of some of his underworld business. Tooth-Pick

ta“tits Therese about Marcel, her drinking, and the possibility that she

82

too will end up in an asylum. Despite her intention to stay calm, she
spits in his face. "Ton frere pourrait avoir-de nos nouvelles avant pas
longtemps!" he warns (44).‘ Maurice then arrives and orders her out of
the club. Therese insists that she is not afraid of him, to which
Maurice replies: "Ouan! Chez vous y ont tu peur? Astheur, fly, va te
paqueter ailleurs' (44).

Therese could scarcely be more completely humiliated, powerless,
and alone. First Lucille reminded her of the desired role which she had
failed to fulfill, then Tooth-Pick provoked her into losing her self-
control, and, with Maurice, has reminded her of past failures and
disgrace. Not the least of her humiliations is the reference to her
family. When she does not keep up her payments for the damage she
caused in a scene at the club, Maurice's henchmen extract the money from
Robertine by threatening to harm both Therese and Marcel. According to
the neighbors, Marcel is the only person Therese has ever really loved.
She still cares about him, and his safety is more important to her than
her own. In addition, she is ashamed to add to Robertine's problems.
She has always seen her mother as a submissive victim, and from
childhood has been resolved that her own life would be different.
However, it is becoming obvious even to Therese that her revolt has
achieved nothing positive. Worst of all, her mother and brother are
forced to suffer because of her. Only by drinking can she temporarily
blot out her despair.

Therese is thoroughly drunk by the time she enters the courtyard,
but she knows that the women are waiting for their "show." ' Mockingly
she calls to them: "Tiens, la basse-cour est deja jouquee! Hi girls!

Beau temps pour etendre!" (57). She greets family members with equal

83

sarcasm, especially Gerard: ”Minable! Espece de pou! Bon rien! Sans
dessein!” (60). Nothing remains of the handsome man on whom she had
pinned her hopes of happiness and success. Slumped wordlessly in front
of the television, Gerard ignores her insults, provoking her even more.
When Robertine tries to calm her, Therese begins a recital of all the
failures and fears that haunt her. The long-awaited battle has begun.

Given their shaky economic situation, it would not be surprising if
Therese and her mother quarreled about finances, but money is not
discussed. They might also quarrel about Therese's morals or her
drinking, but while both subjects are mentioned, they are of minor
importance. The main issue is the way Robertine brought up her
children. Robertine thinks of herself as a long-suffering me;g__dg,
famillg who has done her best to raise her children according to the
standards of their society. When she reminds Therese of all that she
has done for her, however, Therese scoffs at the idea: "Que c'est que
t'as faite, pour moe, hein, dis-le! Dis-le juste pour voir!” (60).

A barrage of insults follows as Therese claims that her mother was
”tellement bete, tellement vulgaire," "niaiseuse comme y s'en fait pus,"
"une vraie bebitte!" (61). She adds that she was ashamed of her, and
her friends were afraid of her. Everything is Robertine's fault:
"C'est de ta faute si on est toutes malheureux, dans'famille! Si tu
nous avais eleves comme du monde, j'arais marie quelqufun qui avait du
bon sens, mais non..." (61). Therese does not complain of her ignorance
of sex or say that she married just to get away from her family, as do
some of Tremblay's women characters; instead she complains of the
authoritarian treatment which she and Marcel received as children. "On

n'a pas ete eleves, Marcel pis moé, on a été garrochés," she insists,

84

and if Marcel is in an asylum, it is because of Robertine (61). Therese
sums up her argument with one final charge: ~"T'as jamais été une mere
pour nous autres! Tu t'es jamais occupee de nous autres, pis astheur,
tu fais la martyrs!" (61-62).

Mildly at first, Robertine denies Therese’s accusations: "Quand tu
bois, tu fais exipres pour tout conter de travers a tout le monde, pour
me mettre ta vie manquee sur le dos!” (62). When Therese persists,
Robertine counterattacks, presenting her version of past events. ”J'en
ai assez, tu m'entends, j'ai mon maudit voyage! Chus tannée de passer
pour une maudite folle par ta faute! Si je t'ai pas élevée c'est parce
que t'etais pas elevable!” (62). She accuses Therese of having been
willful, 'une maudite tete folle" who had violent temper tantrums as a
child, and who at fifteen made scenes because she was not permitted to
stay out past midnight. She claims that she was the pone who felt
ashamed as she tried to excuse and hide Therese's conduct. She
continues, reminding Therese of her unruly behavior in front of the
neighbors: ”Quand t'arrivais aux p'tites heures du matin pis que tu
reveillais tous les voisins en criant, en chantant, en sacrant, c'etait
pas vulgaire, ca?” (63). She also reminds Therese that Marcel was born
mentally retarded. As for Gerard, she had always said he was a "bon-
rien," but because other women were "crazy" about him, Therese wanted
him for herself, and got pregnant to force him into marriage. Thus much
of what Robertine says is factual or a plausible interpretation of the
facts. But before the argument can end, Robertine insists that Therese
take back her remarks: “Dis-1e, Therese, que t'as tort," she cries

(64).

85

Therese can hold out no longer; she sobbingly agrees that her
mother is right and she is wrong. In a masochistic outburst which
concludes their quarrel, Therese is at Robertine's feet. Assuming a
posture of child-like submission, she takes the blame for everything
that has happened and puts herself at her mother's mercy:
J'm'hais, moman, j'm'hais! Chus t'une ecoeurante, t'as
raison! T'as toujours ete bonne pour moe! C'est moe qui est
mauvaise! Chus mechante! Chus mechante! J'fais exipres pour
te faire souffrir! J'meriterais que tu me battes, moman,
j'meriterais que tu me battes! J'te demande pardon! Je
r'commencerai pus jamais! Jamais, jamais! (64).

Her feelings of guilt and despair exorcised for the evening, Therese

abandons herself to her mother's care, and is soon on her way to bed.

The quarrel functions as a sado-masochistic rite which temporarily
frees Therese from responsibility for past failures and restores
Robertine to her full status and authority as mother. But participants
and watching neighbors alike know that nothing has been resolved.
Therese has only to spend another day at Nick's to be reminded that her
present way of life is intolerable, and once again she will rebel, no
more effectively than before. In some ways, mother and daughter are not
so different; Robertine has stubbornly tried to maintain order and
discipline, and Therese has just as stubbornly defied it; neither one
thinks about how to make life worthwhile. Both women behave
automatically, but Therese's rebellion is based on an instinctive
refusal of a system which hampers personal growth and the achievement of
individual potential. Robertine’s attempt to enforce the social code
arises from internalized social values. She has accepted without
question the unwritten law that a woman who refuses to follow in her

mother's footsteps can expect not only failure but punishment as well.

Robertine has therefore resigned herself to a life of conformity; at

86

least it permits her to keep going. Much as she needs Robertine and
depends on her, Therese would rather risk the-dangers of rebellion than
conform. The greatest dangers, of course, lie with people like Maurice
and Tooth-Pick, who will not hesitate to destroy her if she defies their
authority.
But why are the neighbors so fascinated by a routine quarrel? If
the women cannot resist listening, it is because this is their fight,
too. Therese is rebelling against a system which dominates the entire
society, a tradition which includes an inadequate educational system,
limited opportunities for women, and the fatalistic attitude that people
cannot change or control life, and must therefore accept their situation
as it is. In sum, the quarrel reveals the problems of a society
beginning to free itself from confining traditions at a time when the
rebels lack a clear sense of self. They have no examples to follow,
little support from family and friends, and few opportunities for
developing and expressing their potentialities through work.
The neighbors are incapable of revolt, and caught in the endless
cycle of their ”maudite vie plate,” they cannot even find words to
express the boredom and meaninglessness of their lives. They depend on
Therese and Robertine to be their spokeswomen. This is implied in the
exasperated comment of a woman whose husband has ignored her question to
him:
C'est ca, reponds-moe pas! Reste effouerre devant 1a
television pis occupe-toe pas de moe! T'es t'assez plate,
Joseph, t'es t'assez plate que chus t'obligee de passer ma vie
a regarder chez les voisins pour voir si y se passerait pas
quequ'chose! (17).

In her revolt and failure, Therese dramatizes the women's buried

dissatisfactions with life, at the same time excusing their passivity by

87

assuring them that disobedience and defiance are not worth the resulting
humiliation and degradation. The women look forward to their "show,"
unable to empathize, yet finding an outlet for their own repressed
feelings. Their response suggests society's ambivalent attitude toward
existing norms, overtly supporting them, covertly longing for someone to
change them.

When Marcel quietly enters the house that night, he is disappointed
that no preparations have been made for his return. He had asked the
family to empty the apartment of its old furniture and to paint the
walls white, but nothing has changed since he went to the hospital.
Marcel, it seems, is obsessed with ridding their home of all that is
ugly and worn-out; he wants them to start a new life together in a fresh
environment uncontaminated by the past. Looking around at the shabby
room, he concludes that no one wants him to come home. Nevertheless, he
decides to stay for a while. He thinks he will be able to watch without
being noticed by the others, as he did when he was a child. Adults,
assuming he could not understand their conversations, would talk as if
they were completely unaware of his existence. Now he has the added
advantage of dark glasses, which he thinks make him invisible--probably
because people no longer notice and comment on his "peculiar" eyes.2 To
his surprise and disappointment, Robertine immediately sees him when she
enters the room. Marcel can only protest:

Vous etes pas supposee de me voir quand j'ai mes lunettes!

Meme vous! Pis vous etes supposee de parler en anglais!
Envoyez, parlez en anglais, vous allez voir, j'vas toute
comprendre! A l'hbpital, quand j'ai mes lunettes la,

j'disparais dans les murs pis y'ont beau parler en anglais,
j'comprends toute! Toute! c'est mon pouvoir qui fait ca! (76-
77).

88

Marcel then admits that his power does not always work; sometimes things
do not disappear when he wants them to, which frightens him. Gently
Robertine takes off his glasses and confirms her suspicions: "Y'a les
memes yeux que la darniere fois" (77). He insists that he has not run
away from the hospital, but from the various remarks he makes during his
visit, it appears that he struck one of the attendants, and then somehow
managed to escape. As he talks to Robertine and Therese, he dwells on
two subjects: his fears and his desire to be reunited with his family.

Marcel apparently lives in a state of constant fear at the
hospital. Disturbing bells awaken him in the morning, then he spends
the day at the window watching cowboys and Indians fighting in the park-
-only television, perhaps, but an experience which does little to
reassure him. Although he claims to be supremely powerful when he makes
himself invisible and disappears into the walls, he is afraid of one of
the attendants, whom he calls ”frere-mets-ta—main," and is sure that
”they” spy on him and are trying to poison him (79). His paranoia is
related to an incident which occurred some fifteen years earlier at the
Coconut Inn. He believes that Tooth-Pick put a powder into his drink to
make him see things. What really happened is not clear, but Tooth-
Pick's recent threats regarding Marcel imply that he has some means of
frightening, if not actually harming Marcel, even in the hospital.
Marcel's fear of poisoning is therefore not entirely irrational. In fact
because he knows that Tooth-Pick is dangerous and should be avoided, he
shows better judgment than his sane, but unreasonable sister.

Marcel's profound desire to be with his family is indicated in a
variety of ways. He makes numerous comments about trying to telephone

Robertine; it appears that the hospital had not allowed him to call.

89

At one point, he carries on a conversation with her as if he were
talking on the phone. He wants to know why she so seldom visits him,
urges her to take him home, and concludes the conversation by making her
promise to visit him. When they have "hung up," he declares: "Y
viendront pas!” (82). In this instance, as in his comments about Tooth-
Pick, he does not try to disguise reality. Nevertheless, much of the
time he acts as if he were still in the hospital, and the others go
along with the idea. In the end, they use this as a ruse to send him
back to the asylum, pretending that the waiting taxi has come to take
him home for good. 3

Marcel had hoped to be reintegrated into the family, but they are
scarcely any stronger than he, and cannot help him. Gerard calls him
"fan," and avoids talking to him. Joanne is not afraid or judgmental,
but is too young and inexperienced to take much responsibility. Therese
tries to please him and.willingly sacrifices the truth to avoid
confrontation. She dresses in white, as he asks, and has the others
wear white as well. She also does not argue when he insists that Joanne
is ten, although in fact she is nearly sixteen. Robertine is the one
who is most troubled by his fears and by his pleas to be taken home.
She is also the one who feels responsible for him, and makes
arrangements for his return to the asylum. Although she keeps the
situation under control, she knows that the price is Marcel's growing
terror and alienation.

Marcel is clearly to be identified with Quebec. One of the
neighbors recalls that as a child, he always talked about Quebec (City),
and wanted to go there. When he wanted to play with the other children,

they would exclude him by telling him "Va-t'en a Quebec!" (71). The

9O

implication is that he was looking for the ”real" Quebec, as if he did
not already live there, or as if he wanted to be part of another,
different Quebec. Marcel's life in the asylum, and his attempt to gain
power through withdrawal and invisibility parallels the survival
strategy which Borduas had described so effectively in ”Refus global."
To prevent assimilation, French Canadians had withdrawn within the
borders of Quebec, becoming invisible observers rather than
participants in the world around them. However, instead of feeling
safe, they only became more afraid. The remedy for Borduas and his
colleagues lay in renewing contact with the world; Marcel's solution is
to become part of his family again. Through him, Tremblay suggests that
Quebec's first step toward self-affirmation is to form a society which
incorporates-~rather than excludes--the weaker and often alienated
elements of society. The time has come for Quebec to clean house,
discarding what is worn and useless, in order to make a fresh new’ start
as a reunited family.

Gathered for Marcel's departure, the family members comment on
their lives as one by one they join the background chorus of neighbors
murmuring 'Chus pus capable de rien faire" (90). Gerard is the first to
speak. He can't do anything any more; the family is ashamed to have him
go out, so he is trapped in his chair with his cane. "Chus pus capable
de rien faire," he repeats, and Therese joins him (90). "Aie, chus
rendue basse rare," she exclaims, explaining that earlier in the
evening, she had hoped to be arrested for public intoxication so that
She would not have to go home (90). Joanne joins the mounting chorus,
predicting that she will never succeed in beauticians' school. If she

were as intelligent as her mother, she would try to get out of her

91

present situation; unfortunately she has her father's head, she says.
Robertine repeats an earlier speech, foretelling a lonely old age in
which she is abandoned and made a beggar in her own house. They all
chorus loudly ”Chus pus capable de rien faire" (92).

Here as in Le§_figllg§;figggrg, Tremblay makes effective use of the
chorus. The neighbors who have remained aloof, keeping their distance
as they watched and predicted the ruin of the entire family, now join
them to express the same overwhelming feeling of powerlessness. As each
new voice is added, the atmosphere becomes more oppressive. The chorus
speaks for dependent people who systematically rationalize defeat.
Joanne is smart enough to know that she should get out of her crippling
home environment, but cannot, she says, for lack of intelligence. Once-
handsome Gerard thought he could always depend on women to pay his way;
Therese thought a husband whom other women desired was the key to
success. When they discovered that they were both weak and dependent,
Gerard collapsed and Therese became increasingly destructive.
Robertine's motto 'continuer' has enabled her to survive, but it
conceals the need for active intervention to halt the worsening cycle of
events which is steadily destroying her family.

Only Marcel does not join the final chorus of defeat and
powerlessness. Boldly he declares: "Moe, j'peux toute faire! J'ai
toutes les pouvoirs! Parce que j'ai mes lunettes! Chus tu-seul...a
avoir les lunettes! (92). After moving back and forth between reality
and illusion, Marcel makes his final choice, advocating disguise and
illusion. By giving the last word to Marcel, Tremblay dramatizes the

folly of seeking power through disguise, and also emphasizes the need

92

for a sane approach in analyzing and controlling the various

dehumanizing forsces which make selfhood and freedom impossible.

In En_£1eg§§_ge;§gheg§, the protagonists are no longer an integral
part of society, as they were in L§§__figllg§;§ggu;§. The passive
neighbors keep their distance, aloof, watching, judging, and stifling in
the oppressive atmosphere of a society that refuses to change. Like her
neighbors, Robertine accepts the traditional social order; her children,
however, have always refused it, Marcel by withdrawing from society,
Therese by rebelling against it. Easily frustrated, Therese has wasted
her energies in defiant and ultimately destructive behavior. Her revolt
cannot succeed until she takes responsibility for her own actions.
Robertine's role as mother gives her the strength to continue, but not
the strength to initiate positive change. Thus each for her own
reasons, Robertine and Therese both abandon all hope for the future and
join their neighbors in their chorus of powerlessness, leaving only
Marcel to enjoy an illusion of power. As the family disintegrates,
society collapses, too. If there is any hope, it lies with those who
leave this world of impotence and despair while they still have the
strength and will to do so. Since the play opens with Madame Tremblay's
unsuccessful attempts to make young Michel return home, there is a
suggestion that ”s'en sortir” is possible -- even if it is only for an

evening's play.

Notes

1 Michel Tremblay, En_21eg§§_dg;§ghgg§ (Montreal: Leméac, 1982) 15-
17. All further references are contained within the text.

2 The neighbors especially remember his eyes. See text 78.

93

W: Disguisins Dependence

Lg__nggh§§§g__dg_Langg§1§, a monologue in two acts, opened in May
1969, following in close succession the stage version of §g__£1egg§

geggghegg, which was first performed in April of that year. By using the
title of a well-known Balzac novel, Tremblay suggests the themes of
imitation and disguise. The opening scene, however, was inspired by a
situation which Tremblay had observed at a bar in Acapulco: a
tourist from Quebec, completely drunk, stood on a chair and announced:
"Ce soir on fait pas l'amour. Ce soir on se saofile."1 Intrigued,
Tremblay watched, and saw in his compatriot possibilities for the
protagonist in a play he had been thinking about.

The result was “la Duchesse,“ an aging homosexual prostitute, who
tells about his past as he drinks alone during an afternoon siesta in a
resort much like Acapulco. He is Marcel's uncle, a reference deleted
from the television version of En_£1egg§_de§ggheg§, and not unlike
Marcel, he uses disguise to escape feelings of being isolated and weak.
In addition to creating the Duchesse persona, he has built a
reputation in the homosexual community as an accomplished female
impersonator. His imagination and acting skills, which enable him to
distance himself from his activities as a prostitute, allow him to think
of himself as a talented, experienced actor who skillfully plays his
role without becoming personally involved. At the age of sixty, after a

lifetime of prostitution, he thought he had so completely mastered his

94

95

”art" that he could not be affected by personal feelings. But his
monologue reveals that he is still human, and capable of love after
all. Through this complex and ambiguous character, Tremblay continues
his exploration of how individuals respond to the restrictions of the
society in which they live.

In the stage directions, Tremblay describes the Duchesse as "une
vieille pedale" who displays every effeminate mannerism imaginable:
'Aucun balancement de hanche, aucun geste de la main, aucune oeillade
‘perverse' ne doivent etre epargnes. La caricature doit etre complete,
parfaite...et touchante.”2 Since language is an important part of his
image, the Duchesse emphasizes his lack of masculinity by using feminine
pronouns and adjectives in referring to himself. In fact, after
remarking that the sun will make him "rouge comme un homard," he
excplaims: 'Un homard! Seigneur Dieu! j'commercerais-tu a parler de
moe au masculin? Quelle horreurl C'est vraie que homarde..." (83-84).
But if the pun is weak, it is worth noting that the Duchesse
consistently refuses to call himself male. At the same time, he knows
he is not a woman, and he also knows that his customers do not want a
real woman--only the illusion of one. Because I will be discussing the
Duchesse as a male who plays a role that only a male can play, I prefer
to use masculine terminology in referring to him; Tremblay, however,
consistently refers to the Duchesse as "elle."

The opening line, delivered with a dramatic flourish, establishes
the existence of a problem too painful to confront: "Ce soir, on ne
fait pas l'amour, on se saofile!" (82). After downing a drink, the
speaker then proclaims, as if addressing his friends at his favorite

Montreal bar, "Oui, les filles! Fini l'amour, ni-, ni, fi-ni! Final-

96

beton, on n'en parle pus!" (82). A moment later, acknowledging that he
is in fact "tu-seule," he begins to create for himself an imaginary
audience whose curiosity he has already aroused with his theatrical
introduction. In contrast to the b211§§;§ggg;§, who could not even
imagine communicating with the people around them, the Duchesse is able
to foster the illusion that he is surrounded by sympathetic listeners,
an illusion which envelops the audience in the theatre, perhaps freeing
them somewhat from their usual moral perspective, and helping them
become more receptive than they might otherwise be.

Since he is wearing men's clothing which Tremblay describes as
”horribles vetements d'ete americains,” the Duchesse wastes no time in
identifying himself as feminine: "Tu-seule, la tite-fille," he sighs to
himself (82). He further qualifies himself as "une femme du monde” and
then as 'une vraie folle" (82). He shows off his linguistic versatility
as well; in addition to his native 19391, he speaks "a la francaise,"
and likes to include an occasional English expression. His dramatic
gestures, his language, his use of the impersonal "on" in the initial
toast, followed by his use of second and third person in reference to
himself all reinforce the impression that he is a multi-faceted
character whose public images are deliberately used to conceal another
and probably quite different self.

A resourceful showman, the Duchesse skillfully attempts to present
himself in a favorable light. To minimize the loss of an important
asset, youth, he emphasizes his forty years of experience; his travels,
his talents, and his sexual expertise have all helped make him
irresistable to men. He is, he declares, "une mangeuse de meles" (83).

But the Duchesse feels that he must also confront, and negate if

97

possible, what others say about him: "Quand on parle de moi, on dit
toujours: ‘La Duchesse? Une folle! Tapette comme y'en a pas!'“ (83).
Such terms do not bother him, he says, but he clearly feels insulted by
the emphasis on "tapette." ”Au fond, sont pas plus fines, celles qui
disent ca,” he protests; "C'est des poudrees, des folles, pis des
tapettes, elles aussi" (83).

In taking the name Duchesse, the protagonist has laid claim to
special status within his group. He justifies this claim with the
argument that he has had more years of experience than anyone else,
but his argument falters when he thinks about what that experience has
entailed. Reflecting on his past, and numerous partners whose names he
cannot recall, he admits frankly 'Y'a personne a Montreal qui a connu
autant d'aventures stupides que moe, je pense' (85). Then he goes on to
sum up his career in language which invalidates his every pretension of
glamour and success: 'Y'a personne qui a connu autant de monde pis
qui a fourre autant que moe dans le grand Montreal pendant les quarante
dernieres annees... J'ai passe ma vie a ca, mes p'tites filles, j'ai
passe ma vie e ca! Pas d'autre chose: la graine, la graine, 1a graine"
(85). He pauses, pretending to scold himself for his vulgar language,
which critics have told him is offensive and unsuitable for a duchess.
Still refusing to conceal the ugliness of prostitution, he continues:
"j'ai quarante ans d'experience pis quelqu'milliers d'hommes dans le
cul, ca fait que j'peux me permettre de faire la duchesse" (87).

The expression ”faire la duchesse" underscores the distinction
between the man and the duchess role which he claims the right to play.
”Duchesse," in his eyes, is a sign of rank, and a title which can be

earned. Since he has endured more years of "aventures stupides" than

98

anyone else, his unmatched record should be recognized. Much like his
sister Robertine who feels that her lifetime of struggle and humiliation
has earned her a place in heaven, the Duchesse argues that for his
"quarante ans de service," he deserves first place in the hierarchy of
the homosexual community (82).

By his fourth drink, the Duchesse cannot hide the fact that he is
troubled by something more than the criticisms of the vacationing young
homosexuals who object to his vulgarity and threaten to exclude him from
their group. He cannot even finish his salute: “Ce soir, on ne fait
pas l'amour...,' he begins, but this time the problem surfaces:
'L'amour! Calice! J'avais presque oublie ca!“ (87). Assuring his
listeners that he is not going to 'brailler comme une grosse Italienne,"
he finally explains his situation: "chus malheureuse comme je l'ai
jamais ete dans ma tabarnac de vie. Pis savez-vous pourquoi? Oui mes
agneaux, c'est ca, vous l'avez... En plein ca: j'ai une peine d'amour!"
(88). Climbing on a table and raising his arms, he repeats his news:
"‘La duchesse de Langeais' a une peine d'amour' (88).

The stage directions indicate that this dramatic announcement is
followed by silence; it seems to confirm the Duchesse's suspicions that
‘no one cares. Knowing that he must confront his pain and humiliation

alone, he turns as always to his "femme du monde” role for support:

Allez dire ca aux pompiers, y vont vous pisser dessus! ‘La
duchesse', une peine d'amour! Comme si c'etait possible!
Apres quarante ans de metier! Ben moe aussi j'pensais

qu'apres quarante ans de metier on n'avait pus de coeur,
imaginez-vous donc! Ben, ecoutez-moe ben, les p'tites filles,
apres quarante ans d'experience, quand on se rend compte qu'on
a encore un coeur...Arrete, Alice, arrete! T'es t'apres
t'attendrir! T'es quand meme pas pour chialer! Une femme du
monde, ca chiale pas devant le monde! Une femme du monde, ca
chie sur le monde! Je chie sur le monde entier! (88).

99

After reminding himself that there can be no place in his life for
sentiment, he tries to restore his self-confidence by recalling the most
exciting years of his life. He does not talk about his decision to make
his living as a prostitute, except that he left a job as ”aide strip-
tease“ to accompany a rich German lover to Europe where he learned "les
premiers rudiments de (s)on futur emploi de duchesse," and where he also
found he could support himself "free-lance” when he tired of his "dieu
allemand' (92). He returned to Montreal "La femme du monde dans toute
1a conception qu'on peut se faire du mot," and embarked on a unique
career as “duchess“ and prostitute (92).

He began to give Sunday afternoon teas for his transvestite friends
who arrived "toutes guindees" in corsets, long dresses, and high heels
(93). For a period of two years, ”On prenait le the, le corps bien
raide, le p'tit doigt en l'air, pis ensuite on faisait de la musique de
chambre' (93). The highlight was performing in public for a charity:
”On s'appelait 1e ‘Ladies' Morning Club, Junior'! Un triomphe sans
precedent! Les hommes applaudissaient e s'en casser les deux bras!
(93). These are happy memories of companionship, when role-playing
gave him the feeling of belonging to conventional society and yet
allowed him to ridicule its pretensions.

The Duchesse also enjoys recalling other roles which were
deliberately directed toward men who wanted male partners, but who,
because of their dull lives and fragile sense of masculinity, also
wanted the illusion of making love to the kind of glamorous, exciting
woman celebrated in the theatre and Hollywood films. When he first began
to "faire la duchesse," he boasts, Montreal was at his feet: "Tous les

hommes, les vrais, les meles, les beus, se trainaient a terre devant moi

100

dans l'espoir que je daigne jeter un regard sur eux" (89). His success
stemmed from his ability to gratify both the physical and psychological
needs of his customers. For his ice man, he was "sublime" as Edwidge
Feuillere in Lg_namg_ggx_g§me11a§, for his roller skater, he played
Esther Williams, and for his many actors, he had two numbers which were
'absolument epoustoufflants,” including Sarah Bernhardt in LLAiglgn.
This was his chef d'oeuvre, he assures his listeners; "Ben, c'est ben
simple, j'avais quaisment l'air d'un homme!" (90). Enthusiastically
describing his roles, costumes, and props, he takes great satisfaction
in recalling the illusions he created and the emotions he evoked among
the men for whom he performed.

Perhaps he was his own most satisfied customer, for in imitating
these actresses, his lack of masculinity was acceptable, even desirable.
Moreover, in acting parts made famous by stars as different as Shirley
Temple and Mae West, he could pretend that he was a versatile actor, and
personally appealing and powerful as well. 'J'etais une grande
artiste, dans mon genre," he asserts (89). Indeed, his account of past
achievements indicates a genuine flair for drama, but he has used his
talents to lock himself into a way of life which he knows is
dehumanizing and ultimately indefensible. Nevertheless, the speech
which concludes Act One shows him clinging desperately to the values
which he has espoused for so many years:

J'ai travaille en saint sacrifice, moé, pour arriver ou je
suis aujourd'hui! Mais je ne regrette rien, par example! Pas
une miette! C'que j'ai fait, j'l'ai fait parce que j'voulais
le faire! Ca m'intéressait pas de rester une p'tite folle de
Montreal, moi, pas du tout! Non, mes ambitions étaient de
plus grande envergure... Putain internationale pour
commencer, pis, apres, duchesse! J'ai fourre sur quatre

continents, moi, vous savez! (...) Mais c'est parce que
j'aimais ca! Mon metier, je l'ai choisi! Pis j'ai passe une

lOl

maudite belle 'vie! (...) Oui, mes cheries, ‘la duchesse',
c'est quelqu'un! Pis a l'a rien a regretter. Ou presque...
Juste c'te maudite histoire...(94)
Here the Duchesse pauses; he is not yet ready to acknowledge the full
significance of ”c'te maudite histoire."

The effects of the whisky are increasingly apparent in Act Two. As
the Duchesse loses control over the role he is playing, he is less able
to repress unpleasant memories. Reminded of his childhood, he describes
himself as a victim who soon learned to victimize others. At the family
gathering to celebrate his first communion, for example, he became
'malade comme une cochonne,” because his sister had given him whisky as
a prank (98). Aware that he was unattractive, he probably accepted abuse
as a matter of course. 'J'etais une premiere communiante affreuse, mes
cheries! Affreuse! Tannante comme sept, laide comme un cul de singe
gratte e deux mains, 1e brassard de travers, pis les yeux dans les
culottes du cousin Leopold” (98). The Duchesse knows that people will
be shocked by his last remark, but insists that it is true. His sexual
initiation was painful, but he soon began to enjoy the pain: "Faut
croire que j'ai toujours ete masochiste...J'aime ca quand un mele me
fait mal! Ca fait que des fois j'agacais 1e cousin Leopold e 1e rendre
fou pour qu'y me fasse ben mal..." (99).

Thus at the age of six, the Duchesse discovered that by submitting
to his cousin, he gained power over him, an experience which laid the
foundation not only for homosexuality, but for the sado-masochistic
behavior which was to mark his relationships for the rest of his life.
At twelve, he began to invite men's attention in movie theatres; the
danger added to the excitement, especially since the men were afraid of

being caught with; a minor. "J'etais dangereuse,“ he recalls with

102

satisfaction, quickly adding, ”Mais ma cherie, t'as toujours eté
dangereuse! Pis tu l'es encore!” (100). He is too intelligent, however,
not to realize that his success as a prostitute is not so much proof of
his power as it is evidence that many men share his inability to find a
satisfying life within conventional society.

To distract himself from his memories, he thinks of having sex with
a Peruvian sailor. ”Ca va toute me faire oublier ces ecoeuranteries-
1e,“ he cries, but recalls instead only numbers--238 sailors, until he
lost the notebook in which he kept his record (101). He was so
successful in the New York port that the female prostitutes were
jealous. ”J'ai toujours ete plus femme que toutes les femmes,” he
explains, implying that because he is a man, he knows exactly what
techniques men appreciate, and thus can provide even more physical
gratification than a woman (101). “La technique est le, mes cheries,
toute est dans la technique,“ he exclaims (102). Although he resorts to
his “femme‘du-monde' French, he cannot hide his debasement: "Je fais
‘fleur de rose', moi! Oui, j'ai goute a la merde, moi! Mais c'est
parce que j'le voulais! Parce que j'aimais ca! Parce que je veux
plaire e celui avec qui je fais l'amour' (103). Immediately he corrects
what he has just said, not to deny the ugliness, but to emphasize it by
replacing "amour" with 'cul"(103). Thus he finally admits that
prostitution is not love; it is degradation accepted in a desperate
desire to please and be found pleasing. This leads to his account of
the experience through which he has become aware of both his humanity
and his alienation.

The Duchesse has been profoundly touched by a brief affair with

Peter, a nineteen-year-old youth whom he met at the resort. They

103

became acquainted when the Duchesse, "en minaudant" as he thinks befits
a woman of the world, asked Peter what he liked to do in bed (103).
Peter's direct gaze and blunt reply--"I'm a fucking buck-driver-
buffalo!“--were exciting, but the Duchesse was soon to experience
something more (103). "On pense qu'on n'a plus de coeur," he confesses,
"pis on se rend compte tout d'un coup que c'est tout ce qu'y nous
reste!” (104). For the short time that they are together, the Duchesse
looks after Peter, providing meals, bathing him ("y'adore ca, se faire
laver'), and taking him out (104). ”Oui, j'me traine devant lui parce
que je l'aime," he declares, and unable to explain his new feelings,
he concludes: ”J'peux tout simplement pus me passer de lui! C'est...
c'est comme si c'etait mon enfant...c'est quaisment pur c'que je ressens
pour lui!” (104). To his surprise, the Duchesse discovers that he is
capable of the tender, nurturing love of parents for their children, a
kind of love which he had never before given or received.

The experience is devastating, not so much because Peter leaves, but
because it forces the Duchesse to acknowledge that he has always
deliberately excluded love from his life. His whole monologue testifies
to a life wasted because he had assumed that he could never love or be
loved. Nevertheless, knowing that Peter will not return, the Duchesse
falls back into his usual pattern of self-deception. "Braille un bon
coup," he tells himself, "pis apres...apres, fais comme toujours: "dis-
toi que t'es la plus belle pis la plus fine, pis que tout 1e monde est
rempli d'hommes qui t'attendent!" (106). Struggling to his feet, he
declares: "Les hommes sont a tes pieds, duchesse!" (106). Then he
collapses on the table, crying "Mais j'm'en crisse, j'en veux pus!"

(106). The bottle tips, splashing him with whisky; he is motionless as

104

he makes his final confession: ”On m'appelle ‘La duchesse de Langeais'
parce que j'ai toujours reve de mourir soeur, Carmelita... En buvant du
the!“ (106).

Because of the play's title, Balzac's duchess has been a shadowy
presence throughout the work. Her name suggests the authority and
distinction so important to the Duchesse and his companions, for they
have no real economic, social, or political power. Perhaps because they
are treated as non-persons by the outside world, they create identities
to reflect their interests and tastes, and choose names according to the
image they wish to project. The Duchesse is probably the only one in
his group to have read the Balzac novel; if so, he can claim it as
evidence of his erudition, and simultaneously feel free to interpret the
character as he wishes. He usually treats Balzac's duchess as the
epitome of worldliness and superiority, a ”femme du monde" who refuses
to admit defeat, and inspires him not to give up. His actual
performance, however, seems to be little more than an imitation of
status-seeking Quebecoises. If the Duchesse imitates only what is
fiction or imitation to begin with, perhaps it is because he has no
other models. Indeed, until his affair with Peter, he has seen life
mainly as pretense and pose.

But while the Duchesse now knows that spontaneous feelings are
necessary if life is to have meaning, he cannot free himself from the
role on which he is so dependent. Inspired by Balzac's heroine, who
renounced her worldly power and withdrew to a convent, the Duchesse
likes to dream that someday he will belong to a different kind of
community, free of the pressures of his present life. He does not,

however, suggest repentance or a desire for forgiveness. Instead he

105

envisions a quiet, ordered world in which there is no need to be
masculine, and where serenity is symbolized by drinking tea. Finally at
peace with himself and with the world, he would be ready to die. Such a
possibility seems remote considering his situation at the end of the
play: unhappy and alone in a foreign country, he has deliberately drunk
himself into a state of unconsciousness with round after round of
whisky. The society which has thwarted the development and expression
of love in his life is too great an obstacle for him to surmount. He
chooses, therefore, to destroy his awareness of it for a few hours.
Then he will resume his role and, like his sister Robertine,
”continuer.”

For forty years the Duchesse has been a fictitious character living
in a fictitious world. Whether in Montreal or Mexico, he lives on the
margins of society, mainly in the company of other men who, like him,
have been unable to fulfill conventional male roles, or have found those
roles unrewarding. Some of his friends have ordinary jobs, but the
Duchesse apparently makes his living as a prostitute. Cut loose from the
conventions of society, he and his friends have created a world of their
own, a sub-culture which nevertheless reflects the organization and
values of the dominant society, and is just as confining. The Duchesse
chose a role which made use of his dramatic talents, and which provided
a certain amount of automatic status and a built-in authoritarian point
of view. Duchesses, after all, are meant to dominate! The Duchesse
played his role to the hilt, and encouraged his friends to do the same.
One example of their collective fiction is the "Ladies' Morning Club,
Junior," a parody of society women pretending to be cultivated. The

Duchesse uses his impersonations of actresses to make his partners feel

106

sexually desirable, and to give them the illusion of being "real men"
according to Hollywood's standards, which are also largely based on
illusion. Thus the Duchesse, through his role-playing and prostitution,
reflects the authoritarianism, imitativeness, disguise, and general lack
of integrity which is prevalent throughout conventional society. But
because he thinks he has chosen his roles, he is under the illusion that
he is free.

In fact the Duchesse has been in bondage since childhood. His
first lessons in authoritarianism taught him the pleasure and power to
be derived from pain and submission. In an environment which prevented
the development of inner strength, he soon began to measure his power by
his success in manipulating other men. Moreover, since sexual
gratification was generally treated as something to be bought and sold,
the Duchesse decided to take advantage of what appeared to be his only
asset. He tries to justify his decision, but what he calls service is
clearly servitude from the moment he first introduces himself as a
prostitute. Taking a Marlene Dietrich pose, he boasts: “Oui, votre
honneur, quarante ans de service et toutes mes cartes de competence! A
la francaise, a la grecque, tout c'que vous voudrez! Et de premiere
classe!” (82). Later, in discussing his repertoire of movie star
impersonations, the Duchesse explains: ”Une putain comme moé, meme si
elle est duchesse, ca doit savoir se plier a toutes les exigences!"
(89). The use of "ca” eliminates the humanity of the "putain," and the
verb 'se plier” emphasizes servitude.i The blunt and vulgar language
with which he finally sums up his career leaves no doubt as to the
nature of "plaire," and his substitution of "cul" for "amour" in the

expression ”faire l'amour" is a further admission that prostitution has

107

been degrading and humiliating.3 After years of elaborate role-playing
to repress the knowledge of his servitude, one brief experience of
spontaneous, generous love has made him acknowledge that his values were
not valid, and that during his forty years of "experience" he denied
himself the very experiences which would have made his life worthwhile.
La__nnghg§§g__dg__Langg§1§ focuses on social roles and how they
simultaneously regulate and disguise behavior. Although the Duchesse
likes to think that his imagination has freed him from confining social
norms, he is not a creative artist, but an impersonator whose talents
have been used to reproduce an authoritarian system similar to the one
which victimized him in the first place. His roles, chosen for their
glamour and prestige, partially disguise the loss of integrity, but the
Duchesse is too perceptive not to distinguish between illusion and
reality, especially after discovering that he is still capable of
genuine, spontaneous feelings. Although he is the first Tremblay
character to understand the significance of love, he is too deeply
enmeshed in his role-playing to achieve true selfhood. The Duchesse
nevertheless exercises a degree of freedom by playing his roles in a
deliberately self-conscious way. Since he cannot be himself, he openly

acknowledges that he is not who he pretends to be.

In this play, as in the first two, Tremblay explores life in a
society where roles, not individuals' choices, determine how people
live. Almost all of the characters he portrays have been conditioned to
view themselves as performers who have no personal will, and whose

identity is determined by others. Lg§_figllg§;§ggg;§ leaves no doubt

108

that at the center of this society is the Church. People have forgotten
Quebec's religious mission, perhaps, but the social structure which the
Church developed in the name of "la survivance" still exists, and long
outmoded, has become confining. Those who seek to escape it--Angeline,
Pierrette, Therese, the Duchesse--fail, partly because they have
internalized certain authoritarian values, and do not fully appreciate
their individual human worth, and partly because wherever they go, rue
Fabre or the Main, the social structure is always authoritarian.
Society does not have places for non-conformists, certainly not for
homosexuals, but not even for bright and lively young women who want
careers. In the next three plays, protagonists will take matters into
their own hands. Instead of trying to find ready-made situations which
suit their needs, they will insist on making their own choices,
rejecting not only social conventions, but also the underlying notion

that rules and roles are more important than the individuals themselves.

Notes

1 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Michel Tremblay et la mémoire
collective, by Donald Smith, Lettgg§_gggbgggigg§ Automne 1981:52.

2 Michel Tremblay, Hosanna, suivi de e n e
(Montreal: Leméac, 1973) 81.

3 See text 103.

109

PART III

BREAKING THE FAMILY CIRCLE: SELF-DISCOVERY AND
RESPONSIBLE FREEDOM

110

- : The Destruction of
"la cellule familiale” and the Emergence of the Individual

WW. which opened on April 29. 1971.
is Tremblay's third play about family life, and the first one to depict

a protagonist who has the inner strength to use freedom in positive
ways. The plot is quite simple. After years of quarreling and
unhappiness, Leopold kills himself, his pregnant wife Marie-Louise, and
their young son Roger in what appears to be a deliberate automobile
accident. Ten years later, the two surviving daughters talk about the
ways they have been influenced by the memories of their parents. Carmen
has deliberately tried to put the past behind her, and has made a modest
but satisfying career singing cowboy songs in a cabaret on the Main.
She now tries to persuade her recluse sister to stop dwelling on the
past and to make a life of her own, but Manon refuses to change.
Believing her mother a saint and martyr, Manon wants only to perpetuate
her mother's memory and emulate her piety. Looking to the past instead
of to the future, her unspoken motto is "Je me souviens."

At one level, the play was surely an appeal to Quebec audiences of
1971 to make a definitive break with traditional authoritarian attitudes
and policies, and to participate actively in the rebuilding of Quebec, a
process which had begun following the deaths of Maurice Duplessis and
Paul Sauve some ten years earlier. Of particular interest to the

present study, however, is Tremblay's description of forms of dependence

lll

112

common in Quebec, and the ways they are fostered or refused within the
family.

Because of the way Tremblay has treated time, space, and acting
style, the play is experienced as a complex intertwining of present and
past, of life and death. Two conversations are heard simultaneously;
one occurs in 1961 as the parents talk at breakfast before the children
are up. The second conversation, superimposed on the first, takes place
in 1971 between the daughters as they recall their childhood and discuss
what has happened to them since their parents' death ten years ago. In
addition, on four different occasions, a change of lighting indicates
that the sisters too are living in 1961; they are understood to be
standing behind the kitchen door, eavesdropping on their parents'
quarrels.

The words of the two couples mingle to form still another
conversation in which all four voices echo and answer each other,
constantly returning to issues which no amount of discussion can
resolve. This chain of words links the generations and forms a heritage
of defeatist attitudes and escapism. As the conversations converge,
demonstrating that communication and reconciliation are impossible, a
single voice emerges to break the chain and refuse the burdens of the
family's past. Tremblay holds out hope for the individual, but the
couple, and indeed the family as a whole, remain hopelessly entrapped in
a mesh of words of their own making.

Tremblay provides a number of specific suggestions regarding the
setting. The stage is divided into three areas. In the middle is a
realistic-looking kitchen, the kind that might be found in any working

class Montreal home. Clean but somber, it is decorated with pictures

113

‘ and statuettes which reflect the religious devotions of Manon, and of
Marie-Louise before her. It is here that Carmen talks with Manon who
sits in her rocking chair holding her rosary. The audience is asked to
remember that in 1961, the parents were in the kitchen, but in 1971,
since they are not ”really" present, they are permitted to occupy their
favorite places. Marie-Louise is therefore seated with her knitting in
front of a television set, while on the opposite side of the stage,
Leopold sits alone at a tavern table which is well stocked with beer.
Lacking the detailed solidity of the much more realistic kitchen, these
two settings suggest escape from the real world, with Marie-Louise's
television and Leopold's beer forming barriers to protect them,
especially from each other.

Above the three areas hangs an immense snapshot of Marie-Louise and
three sisters. Given to Leopold before their marriage, the photo is
signed "A toi, pour toujours, ta Marie-Lou," and above one of the
figures, a child has put a cross and has written 'Maman, e dix-huit
ans."1 As the play progresses, the photo takes on increasing
significance, evoking the time when Marie-Louise looked forward to
marriage, unaware of the implications of "forever yours." The picture
also speaks of a child's attachment which has grown into a cult.

The stage directions call for a minimum of movement. Marie-Louise
and Leopold do not look at each other until their final exchange, a
theatrical technique which effectively underlines their isolation,
failure to communicate, and death. Carmen and Manon, not so completely
immobile, look at each other, and Carmen, the more active of the two,

changes position several times before her final exit. Body language

114

alone tells the audience that of the four protagonists, only Carmen is
free.

nggig;Lgu, "une cantate cheap” for four voices, has no chorus to
proclaim and enforce social norms.2 The single most important factor in
shaping the characters' lives is the family, which in this case includes
parents who conform, at least minimally, to their respective roles as
nexg_g§_fgm111g and m§;§_gg_£§millg. Because neither role is rewarding,
Marie-Louise and Leopold seek to make life more bearable through two of
the traditionally most popular forms of escape in Quebec: the role of
martyr for her, and for him, drinking beer at the tavern.
Counterproductive, both strategies contribute to the steady
deterioration of family relationships. After the parents' premature
deaths at forty-five, neither daughter chooses the role of ge1g__gg
famillg. Tremblay thus depicts the disintegration and disappearance of
traditional roles, but offers no suggestion as to how society could
methodically foster personal growth and responsible freedom.

Leopold feels completely imprisoned by his role as EEIE gg faglle,
and resents the fact that he must do work he hates for a man he detests
in order to support a family he does not love. Leopold agrees with
Marie-Louise that his wages are too low, but her solution--demand the
raise he deserves-~13 one he dares not adopt. Bitterly he thinks about
the job he has had for twenty-seven years, operating a machine which has
taken over his life:

Tu viens que t'es tellement specialise dans ta job steadée,
que tu fais partie de ta tabarnac de machine! C'est elle qui
te mene! C'est pus toe qui watches quand a va faire défaut,

c'est elle qui watche quand tu vas y tourner 1e dos pour
pouvoir te chier dans le dos, sacrement! (63-64).

115

Humiliated and dehumanized at work, Leopold also finds little
respect at home. The family quickly consumes his income, giving him the
feeling that he too is being devoured: "Ta famille a toe! Une autre
belle invention du bon Dieu! Quatre grandes yeules toutes grandes
ouvertes, pis toutes pretes e mordre quand t'arrives, 1e jeudi soir"
(64). Marie-Louise has only contempt for him; he is a poor provider,
and a brutal father and husband as well. She accuses him of being
demanding and selfish, and of taking out his frustrations on their son
Roger, whom he beats savagely. Furthermore, she announces, as a result
of his drunken ‘attack on her three months ago, she is once again
pregnant. Angrily they blame each other; their entire sex life consists
of four such encounters, each of which has resulted in pregnancy. As
they consider the adjustments that will be necessary to accommodate the
new baby, each one is determined that the other should suffer the most.
Frustrated at home as well as at work, Leopold seeks release in
hostility and destructiveness. But the pain he inflicts brings him no
pleasure. More than anything else, he longs to break free of his
burdens and enjoy a semblance of human dignity.

Probably nothing threatens Leopold's feeling of self-worth more
than his family's history of insanity. Although he shrugs off Marie-
Louise's cruel taunts about his resemblance to his father, Leopold
admits to himself that he worries about it every day. Moreover, he
knows from his doctor that he should not drink, but going to the tavern
is his only pleasure, and his ”chums" would laugh if he ordered 7-Up
(71). At the word "chums" Leopold pauses, for he is far too lucid to
pretend that he has friends: "J'en ai pas de chums... J'm'assis

toujours tu-seul dans mon coin... a une table vide..." (72). His

116

routine is always the same: sitting at a table by himself, he drinks
until a haze encloses him, blotting out the presence of everyone else.
When no one is in sight to remind him of his failures, he feels at
peace, and enjoys the ephemeral power of ordering more beer which is his
to do with as he pleases: "Parce que c't’a moe, que je l'ai payee, pis
que j'peux en faire c'que j'veux!"_(73).

Imagining that he is not at home but in the tavern, he does what he
"wants,” and kicks the kitchen table over. Marie-Louise screams for the
girls to come help her; their father is having another attack, she
cries, and is going to kill her. Leopold's inner drama continues
uninterrupted, however; hands seize him and throw him out of the tavern.
His dream concludes as he picks himself up, bloody and angry: “Pis...
j'vois toute en rouge! J'vois toute en rouge! J'prendrais le monde
entier dans mes mains, pis je l'ecraserais! (75). His power is an
illusion; no matter what he does, he is a failure. He cannot even find
temporary escape in an evening of drinking without the fear that each
beer takes him closer to the brink of insanity. In fact, as Marie-
Louise immediately points out, he is now beginning to have attacks even
when he is sober.

Leopold has many reasons to feel hopeless about his situation: a
monotonous job, mounting financial responsibilities at home, uncertain
mental health, no friends, and essentially no sex life. He is less
pessimistic about life for the younger generation, however. Better
educated than he is, they may not spend their adult lives in dull,
repetitive jobs. Leopold also thinks that young people have healthier
attitudes toward sex. ”Y'en a de moins en moins du monde comme nous

autres," he tells Marie-Louise, "pis c'est tant mieux" (86). But

117

Leopold senses that for him and Marie-Louise, it is too late. Incapable
of change, they have no future: "Nous autres;.. Nous autres, on ne sert
pus a rien... A rien...” (91).

Overwhelmed by his problems, Leopold feels that he is part of a
system over which he has no control. ”On est juste des p'tits
engrenages dans une grande roue," he observes, ”Pis on a peur de se
revolter parce qu'on pense qu'on es trop p'tits" (91). Leopold scarcely
understands what revolt means, but he knows that he has reached the
breaking point; ”continuer" in the present system is impossible. And
since he also feels incapable of improving his life, he accepts the
alternative: death. As he begins to plan an automobile accident which
will kill him, Marie-Louise, and Roger, the thought occurs to him that
some good might result from his refusal to continue: "Mais si y'a un
engrenage qui pete, 1a roue va peut-etre bloquer... On sait jamais,”
he muses (91). From this perspective, death seems more meaningful to
him than his present way of life. By ending their participation in a
system which has crippled them, he and Marie-Louise might help weaken
it, thus reducing the likelihood that it would cripple succeeding
generations as well.

Marie-Louise also longs for an end to her present situation,
dreaming of the day when Leopold will be committed to a mental hospital.
He will not interfere with her activities, yet be a constant reminder to
her and her family of her past misfortunes. So while Leopold, on his
side of the stage, describes his lonely evenigs at the tavern, Marie-
Louise imagines taking her new baby and sitting in front of the
television to knit uninterrupted for the rest of her life. "J's'rais-tu

ben, dans mon coin, avec mon tricot," she thinks (72). When visitors

118

came, she would tell them about all her hardships, whether true or not.
"Pis," she concludes, 'y'auraient pitie de moe. J'pourrais continuer
de tricoter en paix, pis j'saurais qu'au moins le monde ont pitié de
moe' (73).

Marie-Louise already seeks and receives pity from her mother, much
to Leopold's irritation, and from Manon. She is less successful with
Carmen, who realizes that her mother is sometimes lying when she claims
that Leopold is hurting her. Now, however, Marie-Louise thinks she has
suffered enough and feels entitled to a life of peace. As a recognized
martyr and object of veneration, she would gladly tell her story to
sympathetic listeners, reliving with pleasure her former suffering, real
or imaginary, and enjoying her power to command the concern and respect
of her audience.

The play does not say how much sympathy Marie-Louise receives from
people outside the family, but Carmen and Leopold agree that she
consistently blames others for whatever is wrong, feels sorry for
herself, and tries to make others feel sorry for her, too. They also
believe that her prayers and devotions at home are meaningless to her
except as a way of earning a reputation for being pious and long-
suffering. According to Michel Belair, she is a recognizable type,
well-known in Quebec:

Le Quebec a deje connu ses saints martyrs; 11 en commet
pourtant encore e chaque jour, le martyr étant l'un des
comportements de base de tout bon Quebecois qui se respecte.
Marie-Louise en est du moins une illustrat on concrete. Pour
elle, 1a pitie a presque valeur de metier.

Martyrs were understandably popular figures in Quebec, where many

men and women made genuine sacrifices in order to serve and protect

their religious ideals. Later, influenced by the authoritarianism of

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19th century Church leaders, French Canadians began to view their
poverty and powerlessness as the burdens which God called upon them to
bear. Unlike the early martyrs who had worked for change in the face of
hardship, succeeding generations resigned themselves to hardship as a
sign of their obedience to God's commandments. The greater their
suffering, the greater their hope of earning God's favor, and the esteem
of men as well.

Although "martyr" lost much of its original meaning, it gained
cultural approval and popularity throughout Quebec. For Marie-Louise,
it is a masochistic strategy to excuse weakness and to represent herself
as overwhelmed by superior forces which prevent her from carrying out
her good intentions. The new baby, the crowded apartment, the lack of
money--everything is Leopold's fault, not hers. "C'est toujours de ta
maudite faute toujours," she insists; “J'ai beau tout essayer pour nous
en sortir, on se retrouve toujours un peu plus bas" (S9). Undeniably
ineffectual, Leopold is a convenient scapegoat who can be blamed for her
suffering. For a sympathetic audience, she has Manon, who is timid and
insecure, and only too ready to believe that her mother endures much
abuse from Leopold. Firmly established in her role as martyr, Marie-
Louise has little reason to abandon it. Tremblay thus examines one of
Quebec's time-honored strategies: martyrdom as an escape from
responsibility and freedom.

Both Marie-Louise and Leopold recognize their sexual
incompatibility, but Leapold, convinced that her almost complete refusal
of sex is not normal, takes the offensive. She may call him
"écoeurant," "rate,” and “fou,” he argues, but she has a problem, too:

”1e cul” (82-83). Leopold knows that the girls are listening, and is

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glad to have them hear that some things are their mother's fault.
”Y'est temps qu'y'arretent de me considerer comme un ecoeurant pis un
sans-coeur parce que tu cries au meurtre a chaque fois que
j't'approche,” he tells Marie-Louise (83). He also wants them to know
that sex is for pleasure as well as procreation. When Marie-Louise
insists that the pleasure is only for men, Leopold retorts, "Les femmes
aussi, peuvent jouir,” but she is not persuaded: "Pour moé, faire ca
c'est cochon! C'est bon pour les animaux" (85).

Eventually Marie-Louise acknowledges that she might have enjoyed
sex had Leopold been a better partner. An ignorant bride, she had only
this advice from her mother: "Quand ton mari va s'approcher de toe,
raidis-toe pis ferme les yeux! Y faut que t'endures tout... c'est ton
devoir'” (88). On her wedding night, she did as she had been told, and
fulfilled her obligations as a wife. ”Pis mon ecoeurant," she adds, ”tu
m'as faite mal!” (88). She does not realize that she contributed to
their problems, and Leopold refuses to accept any responsibility either,
declaring: "Moe, j'prends mon plaisir, prends 1e tien' (89). Their
experience of sex has never been and will never be a source of pleasure
to either one of them.

The couple's discussion of sex includes a long, uninterrupted
speech in which Marie-Louise thinks back to the time of her marriage.
She has no illusions as to why she married: "C'que j'voulais: partir au
plus sacrant d'la maison" (88). She concedes that she chose Leopold
because he was ”plus fin que les autres," but adds, "pis j'pensais qu'y
me ferait juste changer de maison, pis que la nouvelle s'rait juste plus
vide... plus propre... pis plus tranquille" (88). Her hopes were

short-lived. Instead of improving her situation, she was confronted

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with a new role for which she was totally unprepared. Her ignorance of
sex was her mother's fault, she insists, but Leopold was to blame for
the pain and humiliation of her wedding night. "Si c'est ca, 1e sexe,"
she told herself, “pus jamais! Jamais! Jamais!" (88). And in the
years to come, although Quebec society supported the husband's "rights"
in these matters, Marie-Louise usually had her way. She and Leopold
were both too ill-informed and too insecure even to attempt a resolution
of this painful issue.

As she thinks about what Leopold has just said, Marie-Louise is
reminded of an article she read in Selection. It compared the family to
a living cell, with each member making a contribution. A prison cell
would be closer to the truth, she implies. She then continues:

Nous autres, quand on se marie, c'est pour etre tu-seul
ensemble. Toe, t'es tu-seule, ton mari a cete de toe est tu-
seul, pis tes enfants sont tu-seuls de leur bord... Une gang
de tu-seuls ensemble, c'est ca qu'on est! (Elle rit.) Pis tu
reves de t'en sortir, quand t'es jeune, pour pouvoir aller
respirer ailleurs... Esprit! Pis tu pars... pis tu fondes une
nouvelle cellule de tu-seuls... ‘Moe, j'prends mon plaisir,
toe, prends le tien!’ Sacrement! (90)

Somewhere families may live together in mutual love and support,
but in the world of "nous autres," the only world Marie-Louise has ever
known, family members live in hostile isolation, separated by
impenetrable barriers. “Tu-soul” also involves powerlessness, for the
confined individual is not only alone, but unable to act. Young people
dream of escape, but in vain; they only establish more cells like the
old ones. There is not even a breath of fresh air. Among all of Marie-
Louise's acquaintances, the effects of this stifling, confining
isolation are the same. What do people look like after twenty years of

marriage, she asks herself? ”Des cadavres," she replies (90). For the

audience this speech is an admission of failure; for Marie-Louise,

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however, it is a description of life as she sees it, an alienating
experience from which there is no escape.

Although Marie-Louise has just described her isolation as
inescapable, it is also unbearable; in desperation she turns to her one
remaining chance for intimate human companionship: her unborn child.
In her last major speech of the play, she thinks about how through this
child she will experience the love which has been lacking in her life:

J'le (l'enfant) veux! Ah! oui, j'le veux! Les autres, j'ai

pas pu m'en occuper parce que j'etais trop ignorance, que
j'savais pas comment m'y prendre ou ben donc que j'etais’ trop

occupee... Mais celui-1e... Celui-le, j'vas donc l'aimer...
‘ Pis y'a personne qui va y toucher! Ca va etre mon enfant a
moe... C'est moe qui va l'elever... Pis y'a personne qui va y
toucher... Ca va etre mon enfant e moe... A moe tu-seule...

J'vas enfin etre capable d'aimer quelqu'un! (92).

This speech, by its vocabulary and style, conveys Marie-Louise's intense
desire to dominate her child completely. Her obsessive repetition of
'aimer' combined with numerous expressions denoting possession make it
clear that she thinks love and possession are synonymous. If she has
her way, the child who is now part of her will always remain bound to
her in a dependent relationship. Her experience of "tu-seul" has taught
her nothing about the nature of love, nor has she gained any insight
into her own needs and motives. Her authoritarianism is a vicious
circle form which she cannot free herself. She remains dependent
herself and perpetuates dependence in her children. Only Carmen will
escape.

Sitting in the kitchen that now belongs to Manon, and wearing her
provocative cowgirl costume, Carmen hardly needs to say that she has
become another woman since she left home ten years ago determined to be
a western singer. For Manon, however, nothing has changed; to her the

accident still seems like yesterday. She overheard what Leopold said to

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Marie-Louise that fateful Saturday morning, and is convinced that
Leopold is entirely to blame for what happened. She can neither forget
nor forgive. "Chus pas capable d'arreter d'y penser," she tells
Carmen, and even if she moved out of her parents' home, as Carmen
advises, that terrible conversation would haunt her. "Chus pas capable
de me debarrasser de leurs voix!" she insists (42-43). Voices from the
past have resonated with particular force in Quebec literature ever
since Maria Chapdelaine obeyed the voices which told her not to change,
but to follow in her mother's footsteps and fulfill her destiny as a
devout and loyal woman of Quebec. In Magig;ng, however, there is no
hope of fulfillment for those who refuse to change.

In Manon's case, following in her mother's footsteps was not a
deliberate choice made in adulthood. For as long as she can remember,
she has wanted to be like Marie-Louise. At six or seven, she was
already trying to imitate her, and was eager to have her undivided
attention. Nothing angered or humiliated her more than to have people
notice her marked resemblance to Leopold. "C'etait un ecoeurant de fou,
lui, pis j'voulais pas y ressembler,' she explains (50). Carmen has a
different opinion of Leopold: "Y'etait peut-etre juste un peu plus
ecoeure...' (50). Manon, however, blames him for all their problems:
'J'avais realise qu'y nous rendait toutes malheureuses pis je
l'haissais," she recalls (54). Although Carmen points out ways in which
Manon's behavior resembles Leopold's, Manon has no sympathy for her
father and does not want to have anything in common with him. That the
cost is high is suggested by Carmen's recollection of Manon looking at

herself in the mirror as a child, and saying: "M'as te tuer, mon

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ecoeurant... M'as te tuer!" (54). As an adult, she is still trying to
destroy that part of her which resembles Leopold.

The evidence thus suggests that from childhood, Manon was unsure of
her mother's love, and conscious of the antagonism between her parents,
she feared that her resemblance to Leopold would reduce Marie-Louise's
love for her. Wanting to please her mother, Manon sought to imitate
her, adopting her mannerisms and also her attitude toward Leopold.
Carmen, who had no reason to feel rejected by either parent, developed
the self-assurance needed to accept her growing .separation from her
parents. Not being particularly dependent on either one, she was able
to form her own judgments about their way of life, and about how she
wanted to live. Manon, however, attempted to repress her likeness to
Leopold and heighten her resemblance to Marie-Louise, and in the process
denied her individuality.

Manon's close identification with Marie-Louise probably explains
why she never wanted to be far from her mother, and why she habitually
eavesdropped, especially on her parents' quarrels. Obsessed with the
cruel exchanges between her parents, she was constantly on the alert for
any sign of violence. One scene in particular marked her for life, she
tells Carmen. Overhearing Leopold say, "T'es ma femme, y faut que tu
m'obéisses,‘ and thinking that he was going to hurt Marie-Louise, she
went to their bedroom where she saw them struggling (57). "Y se sont
retournes tous les deux en meme temps... Jamais j'oublierai leurs
faces," she tells her sister (50). Carmen, unimpressed, asks if that is
all. For Manon, it was too much: "Si t'es avais vus, Carmen! Si t'es

avais vus! Y'etaient assez laids" (60). Carmen dismisses the violence

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and ugliness with a casual "C'est parce qu'y savaient pas comment faire
ca“ (60).

Manon, of course, correctly perceived that her mother was being
raped, a scene that would indeed be hard to forget. The fact that she
feels "marked" by it suggests that she has been unable to resolve the
feelings that were evoked as she identified with her mother's
humiliation in an atmosphere of anger, fear, and powerlessness. Carmen
thinks that Manon is overreacting; what Manon needs, she laughingly
suggests, is a man. Carmen overlooks the fact that Manon, who has
always avoided men, is not strong enough to participate in any kind of
human relationship as an equal. Manon feels safe only in the solitary
existence which Marie-Louise had once planned for herself.

Carmen's efforts to change Manon's outlook on life are fruitless.
Using one approach after another, she tries without success to find some
argument to make Manon reexamine the past from a fresh perspective. As
a child, Manon had once said: ”Quand j'vas etre grande, j'veux etre ben
ben malheureuse, pis mourir martyre' (65). Her goals remain unchanged.
Although she has no husband to cause her suffering, Manon does, however,
spend much time in prayer. Challenged by Carmen to explain what she
thinks about when she prays, Manon describes not thoughts, but
sensations of dizziness, floating, and trembling: "C'est vrai...
j'tremble comme une feuille, j'perds l'equilibre... Chus tellement ben!
On dirait que... On dirait que j'flotte!" (78). Not satisfied with this
reply, Carmen supplies her own interpretation: Manon secretly hopes
that someone will see her, just as their mother wanted to be seen
praying. Manon's description is significant, however, for it speaks of

an unfocused, empty life. With no sense of self, and not even a role to

126

play, Manon seeks security through withdrawal into an experience which
is more physical than spiritual, but which is independent of the
physical world she wants to leave behind.

The final separation of the sisters arises from their differing
reactions to their parents' quarrel on the subject of sex. Manon was
the one who insisted on eavesdropping, but when she realized what her
parents were talking about, she soon ran back to bed to hide beneath the
covers. Carmen, who continued to listen, realized that this quarrel,
like all the others, would bring no positive results. 'C'te samedi-
matin-1e, j'ai realise la meme chose que papa: j'ai realise qu'y
resteraient toujours dans leur marde... pis j'ai decide que j'm'en
sortirais, moé," she tells Manon, adding that both parents were to
blame, not just Leopold, as Manon.wanted to believe (87). Concluding
that her parents' quarrels would continue ”jusqu'a ce qu'y crevent,"
Carmen decided to leave home. Manon, however, withdrew, hiding from
life much as she had tried to hide from the knowledge of sex by burying
herself beneath the covers.

Still thinking that she may persuade Manon to lead a more active
life, Carmen describes how she broke with the past. Her first step was
to say to herself "‘Le temps des lamentations est fini, ma belle Carmen!
Fini! oublie toute, pis recommence toute comme si rien s'etait passel'"
(91). Forgetting meant to stop blaming others for the past, and to stop
feeling sorry for herself; it meant ceasing to depend on others for
things only she could do. She had always wanted to sing, and knew that
.it was up to her to try. Singing cowboy songs may not seem like much of
an accomplishment, she concedes, "Mais quand c'est es que tu voulais

faire, pis que t'as reussi a le faire, t'es ben moins niaiseuse que ben

127

du monde"(9l). And because she likes what she is doing, the hard work
has been worth while. ”Mais toe t'as jamais rien compris de ca... Tu
t'es renfermee encore plus dans les lamentations au lieu d'essayer de
t'en sortir," she contends, but Manon does not reply (92). Determined
to complete her argument, Carmen bluntly states her opposition to the
practices which encourage Manon's escape into a private realm of
mysticism:
Y faudrait que tu comprennes qu'y'est temps que tu sacres ton
chapelet a terre, que tu te debarrasses de tes saintes vierges
en pletre, que tu mettes la clef dans'porte, pis que tu te
vides la tete de tout ca! Revolte-toe, Manon, c'est tout
c'qu'y te reste! (92)

Before Manon replies, Carmen continues, urging her sister one last
time to forget the past; "Sors de ton esclavage!‘ she cries, "Reste pas
assis 1e, e rien faire! FAIS QUEQU'CHOSE!” (92). Manon refuses: "Non.
Chus pas capable. Y'est trop tard' (92). When Carmen offers to help her,
Manon again refuses, this time rejecting her sister as well: "Non! Tu
m'ecoeures! T'es sale!“ (92). The shift in Manon's response shows her
first admitting weakness, then taking refuge, as always, in a narrow
morality which she uses to justify her refusal to act.

Carmen abandons her arguments, but cannot leave without affirming
her freedom: "Moe... chus libre. Entends-tu? Libre!" (93). She
acknowledges, however, that she probably would not be singing for a
living if her parents were still alive. ”Pis, quand j'commence ma
premiere chanson de cow-boy," she tells Manon, "chus tellement heureuse
qu'y soient morts!" (93). The words shock Manon, who repeatedly cries
"Va-t'en!” as Carmen testifies to the personal satisfaction she takes in

her singing (93). ”J'pense... que chus t'une bonne chanteuse," she

tells her sister, adding "Pis... chus... heureuse" (93). When she

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leaves, she closes the door on her last tie to the past, her sister.
Manon, on her knees, cries "Merci, mon Dieu," as if thanking God for
giving her the strength to resist the temptation of freedom, for now she
can perpetuate undisturbed the ways of her saintly mother (93).

Manon is psychologically incapable of following Carmen's example,
and Carmen is unable to appreciate Manon's almost complete lack of inner
strength. In Sgin;g_§armen_dg_1§_flain (1976), Carmen will write songs
which inspire self-confidence and hope among the Main's social
outcasts. Confronting Manon, however, Carmen responds less to the woman
than to what she represents: a refusal of life. At the same time,
Carmen appears to be less a woman than a spokeswoman for growth and
change. More objective than her sister, Carmen recognized that her
parents' behavior was self-defeating. Furthermore, although she had
made up her mind to leave home before the accident, she realizes that
her parents' death gave her added freedom to develop her talents and
achieve her goals. Manon, whose memories feed her self-pity and taste
for violence, could never say that she is happy that her parents are
dead; on the contrary, it makes her very unhappy. And being unhappy is
one of her greatest satisfactions in life.

Carmen calls herself free; is her statement justified? Some would
say yes, including Renate Usmiani, who describes Carmen's choice as
"full recognition of the fact of freedom, assumption of that freedom and
the moral responsibility that goes with it. In an absurd world, she has
created meaning and purpose for herself.”4 But because Carmen chooses a
career as western singer, she is seen by others as having adopted an
inauthentic role. Tremblay addressed this issue in an interview two

months after Mg;1§;ng opened. To his dismay, western music had become

129

immensely popular, but if he considered it out of place in Quebec, he
also noticed that it was often only a first step in a singer's career:
"Y'en a jamais de cow-boy ici, pis pourtant quasiment tous les chanteurs
ont commence avec des chansons de cow-boy."S He thus implies that
singing western songs is an apprenticeship which may lead Carmen toward
music which reflects her experience as a Quebecoise.

Critic Jean-Cleo Godin, however, sees not growth, but disguise:
"Triste liberation, donc que celle de Carmen, liberte du naufrage qui a
pu s'accrocher a un recif ou a une epave, trouvant son salut dans le
travestissement de son identite."6 But does Carmen in fact disguise her
identity? Does she repress her individuality, or does she make choices
which help her realize her potentialities? The evidence suggests that
she has made significant progress toward self-realization, beginning
with her discovery at the age of sixteen that she was capable of
independent thought. She also realized that if she made choices of her
own, she was responsible for her decisions, and would have to accept the
consequences.

Carmen knew that leaving home was not enough to ensure her
independence; she also needed to leave behind the ”heritage" of hatred
and self-pity. It was from this demoralizing intellectual and emotional
environment, "c'te maudite trappe e rats-1e," that she wanted to free
herself (86). From .the time she walked out the door, Carmen was
determined to be, as much as possible, a ”voyageur sans bagage,"
unburdened by the family tradition of dependence and refusal of
responsibility. "Pis j'ai réussi a me debarrasser de toute mon passe,
pour un temps... un trou, dans ma téte," she tells Manon, ”J'voulais

rien savoir d'eux autres... C'est comme ca que j'ai réussi e faire c'que

130

j'voulais" (91). Carmen did not really forget her past, of course, but
knowing that it could not be changed, she .concentrated on changing
herself and avoiding her parents' mistakes. Fortunately, she also had a
career goal and the talent necessary to achieve it.

Tremblay often portrays the Main as a world of cheap cabarets and
clubs where compromise is a condition of "success," but Carmen
apparently has not manipulated others or lowered her standards in order
to make her way. Manon calls Carmen's night club outfit a "disguise,"
and considers it immodest, if not indecent, but Carmen is not defensive,
and attaches no special importance to it, conspicuous though it is. It
goes with the job. Never self-conscious, Carmen is always herself, and
displays no vocabulary or mannerisms which suggest that she is trying to
conform to a preconceived notion of how a western singer should act.
Just as the living room and tavern settings show where Marie-Louise and
Leopold are happiest, Carmen's costume shows where she is happiest: in
an admittedly third-rate night club. There, however, she is neither
passive nor alone, but actively reaching out to her audience and sharing
music she enjoys:

Pis chus tellement contente de m'étre débarrassée de tout

c'qu'y s'est passe dans c'te maudite prison-la... Les hommes
dans'salle, y me regardent... pis y m'aiment... C'est jamais
les memes, y changent a chaque soir, mais a chaque soir, j'les
ai! (93).

Carmen cannot be called an artist, but she is a professional
performer who takes pride in her work. Being a western singer has thus
far permitted her to develop her potential without compromising her
integrity. She has not lost her sense of who she is, and although she
knows very well where she came from, she has not succumbed to the self-

defeating behavior which characterized her parents, and which is now

131

paralyzing Manon. Carmen thinks and acts for herself, and is finding a
place for herself in the world through her music.

If flarig;ng had ended with the conversation between the two
sisters in 1971, the play might be said to emphasize Carmen's progress
toward independence. As it is, the final words go to Marie-Louise and
Leopold, who speak not only for themselves but for "on" and "nous
autres" in a world where most people their age are a caught up in
routines which diminish and demean human life. Considering himself
incapable of improving the system, Leopold concludes that he has no
choice but to continue or to say no to life itself. Marie-Louise feels
equally trapped but blames only Leopold, whom she hates more than ever.
"Tu pourrais jamais savoir comment j't'hais!" she exclaims, loking at
him for the first time since the play began (94). His reply sounds
almost affectionate as he asks "Viens-tu faire un tour de machine, avec
moe, a soir, Marie-Lou?“ (94). Marie-Louise is not deceived by the
nickname used during their courtship; it as an ironic reminder that she
had once wanted to marry him in order to escape the demoralizing
situation in her parents' home. As it turned out, she found herself
caught in a destructive relationship worse than anything she could have
imagined. The play concludes as Marie-Louise rises to accept Leopold's
invitation, challenging him to carry out his threat to end their lives
in an "accident." For once he will not disappoint her.

With Leopold's suicide-murder, Tremblay destroys the most
representative family he has portrayed to date, implying that nothing
can be salvaged. In 1978, when asked if his plays contained a common

theme, Tremblay called L§§_§g11g§;§ggg;§ "un point de depart, une

132

maniere de liquider des choses une fois pour toutes," and then

explained:
Toutes mes pieces tournent autour du theme de la famille, de
la cellule familiale que je voulais faire exploser. Mes
personnages essaient toujours de s'en sortir, certains

réussissent, d'autres non. La famille c'est pour moi l'image
de l'inconscience, ceux qui sont conscients sont ceux qui
essaient de briser le cercle.”
In flaxig;ng, however, Tremblay does more than break the family circle;
he completely eliminates the traditional Quebec family as he understands
it. What is to replace the family? He offers some partial sugestions
in his next two plays, as he considers ways in which personal
relationships between men might be made rewarding. He does not,

however, portray a complete family from which will emerge a strong,

healthy, independent future generation.

Notes

1 Michel Tremblay, a - ou (Montreal:
Leméac, 1971) 35. All further references will be contained within the
text .

2 The expression is attributed to Helene Loiselle, the actress who
created the role of Marie-Louise. See Jean-Cleo Godin, "Tremblay:
Marginaux en choeur,‘ Ih駧;g_gggheg21§_11, Jean-Cleo Godin et Laurent

Mailhot (Montreal: Hurtubise HMH, 1980) 170.

3 Michel Belair, introduction, A 191. you; ggujguzg. g5 Marie-Lou

4 Renate Usmiani, flighg1__11gmhlgy (Vancouver: Douglas and Mc
Intyre, 1982) 78.

5 Michel Tremblay, interview in nighgl_11gmh1gy, by Michel Bélair
(Quebec: Presses de l'Université du Quebec, 1972) 75.

5 Godin 172.

7 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Michel Tremblay et le theatre

québécois," by Marc Kravetz, LeJflgggzing_11§§é;gigg mars 1978: 90.

133

Hosanna: Replacing Social Roles with Personal Relationships

Hosanna, which opened in 1973, focuses on a homosexual couple
introduced in Dgma1n_matin‘_ngn§;e§1_m;ggggng (1972), a musical which
suggests that few people succeed on the Main without sacrificing their
integrity. In Hosanna, however, the protagonist takes a hard look at
the ways in which he has compromised his individuality in hopes of
becoming ”une des plus grandes folles de Montreal."1 Finally
acknowledging that playing women's roles leads to self-denial rather
than self-fulfillment, Hosanna decides that he no longer wants a life of
pretense and imitation. 'Chus t'un homme," he announces, thus becoming
the first male figure in Tremblay's theatre to affirm selfhood (75).

The play takes place in Hosanna's apartment following a Halloween
party sponsored by Sandra, a transvestite who owns a bar frequented by
homosexuals. Tremblay describes the small apartment as typical of the
"one-room expensive-dumps" popularly known as ”batchelors" (11).
Personal touches include a dressing table stocked with a variety of
cosmetics and surmounted by a large mirror; over the sofa hangs an
unframed ”erotic" painting done by Cuirette, who once aspired to be an
artist, and on the coffee table stands ”un affreux ‘David' en platre,"
which is large and frequently in the way (11). Two features of the room
receive special mention: the light from a blinking neon sign on a nearby
drugstore, and a huge bottle of perfume which the audience should not

only see but smell throughout the performance. It is "tres cheap, tres

134

13S

lourd, tres ecoeurant; un parfum tellement fort qu'il sent le renfermé;
un parfum qui a emprisonne Hosanna depuis des années et qui laisse des
traces un peu ecoeurantes d'Hosanna, partout ou elle passe"(12).

Although no balla;aaaa; would allow an erotic painting on her wall
or a statue of a nude figure on her coffee table, Hosanna's apartment
bears a resemblance to the homes of other Tremblay characters. The "art
objects," like the "religious objects" in housewives' kitchens, suggest
the superficiality of the inhabitants' thoughts, and the mediocrity of
their tastes. The furnishings are cheap, the apartment is crowded, and
it is unlikely that things will improve. The odor of the perfume recalls
the stifling atmosphere of tradition and daily routines depicted in
earlier plays. A weak show of force, an invisible presence, Hosanna's
perfume is a constant reminder of attempted self-affirmation which has
become self-confinement.

The play opens with Hosanna's quiet entrance. Wearing a woman's
wig and a garish homemade costume, he is obviously supposed to represent
Elizabeth Taylor as she appeared in the film glaaaagza. "Malgre’ ce
deguisement grotesque, Claude-Hosanna-Cleopetre ne doit pas étre
‘drble," Tremblay writes; “C'est un travesti cheap avec tout ce que ca
comporte de touchant, de triste, d'exaspérant et d'exaltant parce
qu'exalte" (13). Hosanna examines himself carefully in the mirror, puts
on some perfume, as if to bolster his spirits, but the remedy fails, and
he begins to cry. He has been humiliated and blames himself: "Maudite
ketaine! Maudite ketaine! Maudite ketaine..." (13). He calms himself,
however, and again looks in the mirror, this time to inventory the
damage to his make-up. It took three hours to apply, and he does not

want to wash it away with tears. Ironically, Hosanna has been dreaming

136

of playing this role ever since he first saw Elizabeth Taylor's
performance. "Toute une vie, ouan, toute une vie de preparation pour en
arriver la! Felicitations! Tres beau succes!" he tells himself (13-
14). Fully aware that he looks ridiculous, he senses that his dream is
absurd, but he is not yet able to abandon it altogether.

When Cuirette arrives a few minutes later, he is still laughing
about what happened at the party. The situation is not fully explained
until Act Two, but it is soon clear that Cuirette participated in a
plan to ridicule Hosanna's impersonation. This has upset Hosanna, but
although he feels betrayed, he also wants to know why he was treated
this way. Despite their irritation and frustration, the two men attempt
to understand each other better. To do so they must put aside their
disguises, for ”Cuirette" and "Hosanna” are false selves which repress
the individuality of Raymond Bolduc and Claude Lemieux.

With great reluctance, Hosanna slowly begins to remove his costume
in order to resume his daytime identity as Claude Lemieux, hairdresser.
As Cuirette helps unfasten the numerous hooks up the back of the dress,
he tries to initiate a discussion of their problems. He begins by
remarking that the bleak apartment, the perfume, and the irritating neon
sign combine to make ”une p'tite maison ecoeurante quequ'chose de rare"
(23). When Hosanna observes that he has been left out of the picture,
Cuirette's reply is pointed: ”T'es t'exactement comme ta maudite
maison. Tu sens le parfum a trois milles, pis tu clignotes comme
l'annonce de la pharmacie...Pis j'ai pus besoin de te 1e dire, que tu
m'écoeures..." (23). Thus Cuirette introduces his objections to the
image which Hosanna tries to project. The attention-seeking, artificial

Hosanna disgusts him.

137

Instead of confronting this criticism, some of which is familiar,
Hosanna tries a diversionary tactic by assuming a provocative pose as he
smokes a cigarette. Although seduction has undoubtedly been one of his
most successful techniques for dealing with critics, it is ineffective
this time. Since Cuirette is indifferent, Hosanna then imagines
himself dead, hooked to the sofa ”comme un papillon precieux et rare"
(24). This too is an attempt to avoid the issue, and no more successful
the the first, for although Cuirette is amused, he is also reminded of
something said at the party. Picking up on Hosanna's idea, Cuirette
pretends to announce a nightclub number entitled ”Hosanna l'agrafee,” to
be performed by "la petillante ‘Ose, Anna, ose'“ (25). Hosanna,
however, cannot joke about the evening's events, and responds by burning
Cuirette with his cigarette. The burn, like their insults, is
superficial, but it further postpones serious discussion.

Somewhat later, when the dress has finally been removed, revealing
Hosanna in bra and panties, Cuirette tries another approach. "Claude,"
he begins, but the reply is sharp: I'J'm'appelle Hosanna" (27). Even
the mirror, however, denies the existance of a person by that name.
Looking at his bizarre image, Hosanna pronounces himself "béte;"
Cuirette, however, finds the incongruity amusing: "T'es drble, comme
ea, sans ta robe, avec ta tete de femme" (28). "Ah! non, chus pas
drble,“ Hosanna retorts, "Chus ridicule” (29). Cuirette demurs, but
Hosanna insists:

Chus ridicule quand chus deguisee en homme, quand j'coiffe mes
Juives jewish-renaissance. Des vrais gestes de femmes, qu'y
me disent que j'ai...‘You should work in drags, Claude!’ Pis
si j'irais travailler en femme j'gage qu'y me laisseraient
tomber parce qu'y veulent pas se laisser toucher aux cheveux
par des femmes...Pis chus ridicule quand chus déguisée en

femme parce que j't'obligee de faire la folle pour attirer
l'attention parce que chus pas assez belle pour l'attirer

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autrement...Pis chus t'encore plus ridicule quand chus poignée

comme ca, entre les deux, avec ma tete de femme, mes sous-

vetements de femme, pis mon corps...(29).
Cuirette tries to assure him that he is not ridiculous, but Hosanna is
overwhelmed by self-doubts. He knows all too well that he does not
conform to conventional standards for either sex; in fact, as he looks
at the nameless hybrid reflected in the mirror, he no longer recognizes
himself. For years he has relied on mirrors and people's attention to
assure him of his existence. But at the party that night, his attempts
to "faire la folle” had blown up in his face as the spectators rejected
both the impersonation and the impersonator. Then his lover reminded
him that he is “really“ Claude, but he knows that his clients at lthe
beauty shop do not consider him a "real” man. As a final blow, his
mirror has told him that he is a ridiculous composite creature, neither
a man nor a woman.“ What then is he? Such a question is for the moment
too frightening to pursue. To avoid further discussion, he brings up the
subject of Cuirette's appearance.

Cuirette has been playing a masculine role, offering Hosanna a
cigarette and lighting it, responding with a display of strength when
Hosanna burns him, and taking pleasure in the way he and Sandra had out-
manoeuvred Hosanna that evening. But even before he bursts noisily into
the apartment, his masculine image has been gently mocked. Hearing him
at the door, Hosanna announces: "V'la ton beu, Hosanna, éte ta couvarte
rouge!" (14). This ironic remark is followed by stage directions which
leave no doubt as to the nature of Cuirette's masculinity:

De Cuirette, on pourrait plutét dire que c'est un ‘ancien'
beu. En fait, du beu, i1 ne reste plus que le déguisement.
C'est un beu qui a vieilli et qui a engraisse; sa veste de

cuir, jadis moulante et provocante, ne ferme plus depuis
longtemps et ses vieux jeans trop serrés moulent plus de suif

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que de muscles. Mais du beu, Cuirette a garde l'arrogance,

l'assurance bornee, ce qui 1e rend parfois un-peu-beaucoup

ridicule (l4). '
Cuirette's arrogance has been temporarily diminished, however, by an
unsettling discovery. Coming home on his motorcycle, he could not
resist riding through Lafontaine Park, the setting of his first sexual
adventures. To his dismay, he found that lights had been installed
everywhere, which means that he cannot resume his old practices whenever
he wishes. This unforeseen limitation on his life as "beu" weakens
Cuirette's position, making him especially vulnerable to Hosanna's
counter-attack on the subject of role-playing and appearances.

Expert in the uses of disguise, Hosanna sees that Cuirette's
clothes no longer fit, and also realizes that his behavior does not
”fit” the masculine image he wants to project. Hosanna might add that
even the name does not fit; like I'leatherette," "Cuirette" implies
imitation, and the suffix 'ette' suggests something both small and
feminine. According to Hosanna, Cuirette is not only afraid of women,
but acts like a woman, for instead of being a wage-earner, he stays at
home and does the housework. ”Tu te vantes partout que j'te fais vivre,"
Hosanna observes, "mais tu contes a parsonne que c'est toe qui fait le
lavage, par exemple! Tu te promenes en bicycle a gaseline dehors, mais
c'est toe qui fait cuire 1e bacon en dedans!" (46-47). Indeed, there is
no sign that Cuirette resents housework. He is quite matter-of-fact
about wearing an apron and working in the kitchen; he also cleans up the
perfume bottle that Hosanna smashes, and it is he who begins the nightly
routine of opening the sofa to make the bed.

When he goes out, however, Cuirette tries to look the part of a

"beu," although he knows that his clothes are too tight and that he has

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no money for new ones. He is even conscious of how he tries to hide his
embarrassment: 'J'parle plus fort qu'avant pour faire a semblant que ca
me fait rien,” he admits (43). Nevertheless, he reminds Hosanna,
'j'pogne encore, moe' (44). This assures him that he is still
desirable. When he receives a call from Reynald, a new acquaintance,
Cuirette is flattered but non-committal. Jealous, Hosanna not only
urges him to join Reynald, but tells him to stay away for a few days.
Hosanna then announces that his mother is coming, and pretends that he
does not want her to know he is homosexual.

Cuirette apparently does not suspect that Hosanna's professed
concern over his mother's visit might be only an excuse to ”punish" him
for his interest in Reynald. Nevertheless, having met Madame Lemieux
once before, he is convinced that she understands and accepts his
relationship to her son. Hosanna finally admits that she knows and
tacitly approves. He then goes on to describe with great bitterness her
response to his homosexuality. By the time he was in the seventh grade,
he tells Cuirette, he was openly laughed at for looking so much like a
girl, and the graffiti on lavatory walls labeled him a "tapette" before
he knew what the word meant. Later, when he realized that he was
sexually attracted to the older boys, he went to his mother, hoping that

she would help him understand what was happening to him:

J'ai ete assez naif pour penser qu'a... m'aiderait...
oubedonc qu'a m'expliquerait c'que ea voulait dire... Ma
mere qui m'avait toujours dorlotée, pis embrassée, pis

deguisee, pis qui arretait pas de me dire que toutes les
femmes sont dangersuses pis que j'devrais pas m'en
approcher... parce qu'a voulait me garder avec elle... que
j'etais son beton de vieillesse, comme a disait... Pis qu'a
l'avait peur qu'une femme vienne me voler un jour...(4l-42).

But the mother who had seemed so devoted to her son showed no interest

in his problems, and when he told her he had become an active

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homosexual, she merely replied: "Si t'es de meme mon p'tit gars, au
moins, choisis-toe s'en des beaux!” (42). It was then that Hosanna
realized that his mother had interfered with his normal development for
her own selfish purposes. He does not go so far as to say that he would
otherwise have been heterosexual, but he is convinced that his mother
deliberately encouraged effeminate behavior hoping that he would be
unable to establish inimate relationships with any woman but her. "Pis
a pensait qu'a me garderait,” Hosanna explains, but she was mistaken
(42).

After finishing ninth grade, he went to Montreal, where he
gradually established himself as ”Hosanna, 1a fille a gars de bicycle!
La coiffeuse a bums! La folle a motardsl (...) ...une femme du p'tit
monde... Du p'tit, p'tit monde...”(42). Although he took the initiative
to leave home and free himself from his mother, he continued to believe
that he could never be accepted as a man. In order to make a place for
himself in Montreal's homosexual community, he exaggerated and distorted
his feminine qualities, hoping to become a powerful drag queen. Now,
since the familiar male roles--'pere de famille,” "beu," and "folle"--
are all unsatisfactory, he must decide for himself how he will live.

The final portion of Act One focuses on the basic issue of gender.
In a heated exchange with Cuirette, Hosanna stops abruptly as he is
about to refer to himself as a woman. The reason is not lost on
Cuirette:

T'etais pour dire ‘paaz_ana_famma', hein, Hosanna? Tu t'es
t'arretee juste a temps! Quand tu fais la folle, quand tu
veux faire rire le monde, oubedonc quand tu veux te pogner
un gars de bicycle, comme tu les aimes, tu parles de toe au
feminin gros comme le bras! Pis méme quand on revient
icitte ... quand tu veux m'avoir pis que moé, mag, j'veux

pas, tu continues a faire la femme, a minauder, a onduler des
hanches, a parler trois octaves trop haut, a aeagiz fang,

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pour m'agacer... Mais quand on s'engueule oubedonc qu'on a
quequ'chose de serieux a se dire, tu sais pus comment parler
de toe, hein? Tu le sais pus si t'es un gars ou ben si
t'es une fille, hein? (Author's emphasis, 45-46).

According to Cuirette, Hosanna's role-playing has two purposes.
The main purpose is to exercise power over men by mimicking the
behavior of the stereotypical temptress, or by imitating a specific role
for which an actress is famous, as in the case of Elizabeth Taylor.
Like Cuirette, Hosanna has an image to maintain, and must constantly
attract men to demonstrate his power. Much to Cuirette's exasperation,
however, Hosanna sometimes uses with him the same outrageous sexual
signals that he uses in public. On these occasions, Cuirette keenly
senses the loss of individuality and spontaneity. He also mentions that
Hosanna uses his "femme” role to make people laugh. Act One contains
several examples of this humor. Cuirette is particularly impressed with
Hosanna's remarks to Sandra over the phone. In that instance, he uses
his "humor” to put down and overwhelm his antagonist. Far more real and
important to Cuirette is Claude, the man with whom he can be himself,
without pretense or disguise. But while this is implied by his words,
he does not realize the extent to which his own role-playing
encourages the existence of "Hosanna la folle."

Promptly coming to the defense of his role-playing, Hosanna
contends that many men like it. Is not Cuirette attracted to a man
disguised as a woman? "Si c'est Hosanna qui t'excite, pour que c'est
faire que tu couches avec un gars? Pis si c'est Claude, pour que c'est
faire que tu .couches avec un gars gai_a_1;a1;_a;ana__famma1 ... Ca
s'rait pas par hasard parce que les femmes te font peur, hein?"

(Author's emphasis, 46). Again pointing out that Cuirette does all of

the housework, Hosanna scoffs at the idea that his lover is the man in

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the family, and asks: "T'avais jamais pense a ca que c'etait toe, la
femme, dans nous deux?” (47). Cuirette, however, argues that the
difference between men and women is not what they do but the way they do
it: ”C'est vrai que tu menes, dans'maison, mais tu menes comme une
femme!“ (47). Even at home, Cuirette complains, Hosanna continues his
role-playing, practicing in front of the mirror to perfect and memorize
his gestures, and experimenting with make-up to conceal telltale signs
of age. ”T'es pus une p'tite cute depuis hier soir," he concludes (48).
Then, as if sensing that their definitions are irrelevant, he adds:
”Ben crisse, j't'aime," and goes out, slamming the door as he leaves
(48). Hosanna shouts after him: ”Moe aussi, j'arais envie de
t'enculer' (48). The motorcycle is heard, then silence. If asked,
Cuirette would have stayed, but Hosanna needs time to think.

'J't'aime,’ an unusual exit line for any lovers' quarrel, is
without precedent in Tremblay's theatre. "Tu pourrais jamais savoir
comment j't'hais' had been Marie-Louise's final words; then she and
Leopold had gone to their deaths (94). Having shown the destructiveness
of hatred, Tremblay now shows how love may promote self-acceptance and
self-strength. Cuirette's awkward yet reassuring declaration of love
will provide the security Hosanna needs as he goes back to examine his
behavior and consider the possibility of other, more satisfying ways of
being a man.

Act Two begins with Hosanna alone. Still wearing his wig and make-
up, he is trying to forget what happened that evening. Nothing helps:
he runs out of cigarettes; he acts out conversations with Cuirette and
pronounces them dull; he looks in the mirror, and having asked who is

fairest, does not want to hear the answer. Exclaiming "shut up," he

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begins to laugh (56). "Cre, Duchesse, va... a restera toujours la plus
drOle," he announces; his own attempts at humor do not amuse him (56).
When the phone rings, he hesitates, then answers. It is Sandra again.
This time Hosanna listens, protesting mildly to some of the remarks; he
finally ends the conversation by saying that Cuirette is on his way back
to Sandra's. "T'as eu c'que tu voulais," he adds, as he hangs up, for
he is well aware of Sandra's interest in Cuirette (57). Hosanna is not
afraid of losing Cuirette to Sandra, but he knows that Sandra has won a
significant victory in the competition for status and power. He also
knows that he must now come to terms with his defeat.

Sitting astride a chair facing the audience, Hosanna begins to
recount the evening's events. Although there is but one speaker, there
are two voices: one belongs to the Hosanna who is naively preparing for
a triumph, the other belongs to the Hosanna who has been humiliated.
Through this technique, Tremblay shows the protagonist as he struggles
to free himself from the confinement of his image as "folle,” and find
own voice as Claude.

Hosanna still remembers the night it all began two months ago, when
he learned that the theme for Sandra's party was famous women in
history. He could hardly contain his excitement: ”Le coeur m'a bondi,
les yeux m'ont crochi, les frissons m'ont pognee! Ma chance! Ma grande
chance! Enfin!” (58). Nevertheless, he now thinks that he should have
suspected something was wrong: I'J'me sus laissee prendre au piege comme

la darniere des debutantes!” (58). Then after a pause, he exclaims,

 

uoé! (Author's
emphasis, 58). Although Hosanna appears surprised by such intense

animosity, he does not try to explain it at this point. Instead, he

145

recalls the scene at the club as disguises and costumes were discussed
--Scheherezade, Brigitte Bardot, and Marilyn Monroe. No one mentioned
Elizabeth Taylor, however, ”Parce qu'Elisabeth Taylor... c'est a moé!
Pis ca, tout le monde le sait! Ca fait vingt ans qu'Elisabeth Taylor
m'appartient!" (59).

In the speeches which follow, the naive Hosanna tells of his
obsession with this actress whom he worships and with whom he
identifies, especially as she makes her triumphal entry into Rome as
Cleopatra. He never tires of watching her; ”pis j'vendrai mon dernier
dentier, s'il le faut, pour voir Elisabeth Taylor faire son entree dans
Rome,“ he declares (59). 'D'la marde," exclaims the voice of
experience, 'D’la grosse marde!" (59). Then he continues, explaining
that for years, he had only observed, waiting to be worthy of
impersonating her. Clearly, Hosanna does not treat this as just another
role; he wants to experience the kind of power which he thinks was hers
as the world's most beautiful actress at the pinnacle of her career.
Elizabeth Taylor, 'celle qui a commence dans une vue de chien pis qui va
finir comme la plus belle chienne du monde" excites him, he admits, but
rather than possess her sexually, he wants to imitate her, to enslave
men as she does, with beauty and irresistible seductiveness (61).

Nights, as he lies in bed, Hosanna imagines a papier meche decor in
which he, dressed as Elizabeth Taylor, enters Rome in triumph. And as
Cuirette sleeps, oblivious to his lover's dreams of glory, Hosanna vows
to make his dream come true. His grand entrance will be small compared
to Elizabeth Taylor's, but better than nothing. "Pis toutes les folles
de Montreal vont chier du sang," he promises himself (61). But although

Hosanna is prepared for a papier meché decor, in contrast to the "real"

146

marble and gold which surrounded the "real" Elizabeth Taylor, he fails
to understand that her seeming triumph is only an illusion, a mirage
which tempts, but never becomes reality. The party-goers' laughter soon
dissipates the illusion. "QUI C'EST QUI A CHIE DU SANG," cries the
voice of experience, "QUI C'EST QUI A CHIE DU SANG!" (Author's capitals,
61).

"Trois semaines; ca m'a pris trois semaines completes de ma vie
pour preparer mon flop," Hosanna comments bitterly as he tells how hard
he worked to make a beautiful costume, the dress which he now refers to
as 'C'te maudite guenille cheap-lh!" (62). He finally admits, however,
that neither his costume nor his make-up was to blame for his ”flop;"
the real problem was the way he had treated his companions at the club.
"Ben oui, c'est vrai que j'ai faite mon chemin a Montreal en étant
bitch," he concedes (64).

When he first came to Montreal, he watched and imitated the
Duchesse, who was “la reine incontestee des folles de Montreal" (65).
Sandra was also a model, and his rival for Cuirette. People first took
notice of Hosanna when Cuirette became his lover; at the same time, his
"talent pour des vacheries' also began to attract widespread attention
(64). "Y's rien que j'ai pas dit," he boasts, "y'a rien que j'ai pas
faite d'abord pour garder Cuirette, pis ensuite pour clouer le plus
grand nombre de yeules possibles!" (65). To get a laugh, he would say
anything about anyone, whether it was deserved or not. But Hosanna
wanted more power, and dreamed of a bold stoke, a dramatic entrance
which would eclipse even Sandra. "Ah!" he tells himself, "ferme-toe
donc, tout ca est fini astheur! Toute a fouerre, Hosanna, toute a

fouerré' (65). Worst of all, he cannot forget that even when he finally

k

 

147

began to suspect that something was wrong, he still decided to go.
"J'voulais pus y aller, mais...j'me sus r'gardee... pis j'me sus trouvée
belle!” (67). He was indeed trapped--by his own loss of objectivity.

Just before Hosanna begins to tell about the party itself, Cuirette
returns. Obviously subdued, he enters quietly this time. Hosanna,
absorbed in his memories, pays no attention as Cuirette announces that
instead of going to the party, he returned to Lafontaine park to confirm
his earlier observations. Although he talks as if he were concerned
about not finding partners there as he once did, his real worry is
losing Hosanna. Their relationship has come to mean more to him than he
‘had realized: 'Y'a rien qu'icitte que toute reste toujours pareil...Y'a
rien qu'icitte que le temps passe pas...j'pense. J'veux pas que les
affaires changent! (Tout bas) Comprends-tu?" (69). Hosanna does not
reply; he is recalling his growing sense of foreboding as he went up the
steps to Sandra's. ”J'pensais pas que ca irait si loin que es,"
Cuirette tries to explain, "C'est pas de ma faute" (69).

Then Hosanna describes the event which he had thought would
establish him as the reigning ”folle" of Montreal. The club door
opened, he entered, and all the lights went up: "Tout le monde," he
says slowly, "etait habille... en Elisabeth Taylor dans Cleopatre"
(70). He also saw at a glance that their costumes and make-up were much
better than his; his humiliation was complete. But everyone acted as if
nothing had happened, and so did he: "j'avais le coeur dans'gorge...
mais j'ai pas bronche! Pas d'un poil!” (70).

According to the stage directions, the two men now speak at the
same time. Cuirette pours out the story of his involvement in the party-

-his motives, the satisfaction he felt at first, and then his regrets:

148

Y m'avaient juste dit qu'y voulaient te faire une farce...
(...) J'commencais a avoir mon hostie de voyage de tes
grimaces, de tes niaiseries, pis de tes maudites scenes qui

finissent pus... J'pensais qu'y voulaient juste... te donner
une lecon... (...) Pis j'ai trouve ca drele quand t'es
t'arrivee, sure de toe, contente comme une reine de ta p'tite
robe cheap... Pis j'ai trouve ca drble quand t'es rentree pis
que les lumieres se sont allumees... Parce que j't'haissais!
Mais la... J'ai compris c'qu'on t'a faite, Hosanna...” (70-
71).

During Cuirette's speech, Hosanna tells of his struggle to maintain his
poise in the face of public ridicule. As he describes how Cuirette,
smiling broadly, came to sit at his table, Hosanna looks at his lover
for the first time since his return, and asks for a cigarette. The
request is also a sign of forgiveness and a plea for understanding.
Cuirette gives him the cigarette, lights it, and then stands behind him
with his hands on Hosanna's shoulders. With this, the two men are
reconciled. When Hosanna continues, he speaks directly to Cuirette,
strengthened to know that his lover understands his pain.

First he describes his intense humiliation and also his
determination not to leave: 'y fallait que j'reste! Y fallait que
j'prouve que chus... que chus forte, pis que j'me sacre de toutes vos
farces plates! Y fallait que j'leur prouve qu'Hosanna, c'est pas
n'importe qui, pis qu'a peut passer e travers toute!" (73). It was not
easy to sit calmly at his table, but the worst was still to come: the
judging of the costumes. Hosanna readily acknowledged that the three
Cleopatras who preceded him were good. When his turn came, the crowd
began to chant and pound the tables: ”Ose, Anna, ose!" (73). But it
was seeing Cuirette laugh that gave Hosanna the determination to face
his mocking friends--and the image which he had tried to substitute

for Claude Lemieux, the non-entity from Saint-Eustache:

149

Pis la, au milieu du stage, pendant que tout le monde riaient
de moe, pis me sifflaient, pis me criaient des
niaiseries, j'me ‘sus dit: ‘CléopAtre est un gros tas de
marde! Elisabeth Taylor est un gros tas de marde! Tu l'as
voulu, ton gros tas de marde, Hosanna-de-Saint-Eustache, ben
le v'le, ton gros tas de marde!’ Ecoute ben ca, Cuirette:
j'etais pus CleopAtre, cibole, j'etais Samson! Oui, Samson!
Pis j'ai toute demoli mes décors en papier meche! Vous avez
toute demoli ma vie en papier meche! (Pause.) J'savais pas

que vous m'haissiez tant que ca... (Tres long silence.) Chus
t'un homme, Cuirette! Si j'me sus sauvee, comme ca, apres,
(...) c'est parce que chus pas une femme... Va falloir que tu

t'habitues a ca, aussi...(73-74).
Sampson, after being seduced and enslaved by a woman, had nevertheless
found within himself the strength to assert his integrity. Hosanna, at
last able to identify with a male figure, breaks free from the image
which had seduced and confined him. Having declared himself a man,
Hosanna has nothing more to say about the party.

Quickly the two men restore order to their lives. Cuirette is
only too glad to forget about Reynald, and Hosanna decides .that his
mother will have to sleep on the floor if she wants to spend a night in
his apartment. Cuirette would like to apologize, however: "J'suppose
que ca sert a rien de m'excuser,' he begins; "En effet," Hosanna replies
(75). Awkwardly Cuirette continues, for there is still something he
wants to say. Admitting that saying it makes him feel "niaiseux," he

finally blurts out: ”L'important, c'est que tu soyes toe. C'est tout.

J'pense que c'est toute. Claude... c'est pas Hosanna que j'aime...”
(75). Hosanna, loking at himself in the mirror, announces: "CleopAtre
est morte, pis le Parc Lafontaine est toute illumine!" (75). Then

standing nude before his lover, he calls, "R'garde, Raymond, chus t'un
homme!" (75). As he repeats these words, the two men embrace. Even

the stage directions, which until now have read "Hosanna" and

150

”Cuirette,“ indicate the discovery of selfhood: "Raymond se leve, se
dirige vers Claude et le prend dans ses bras” (75).

With his announcement that Cleopatra is dead and that Lafontaine
Park is brightly lighted, Hosanna signals the end of a way of life for
both him and Cuirette. He had undertaken his impersonation not as a
game but as a means to real power, believing that by resembling a famous
Hollywood queen in her role as Queen of the Nile, he too would be seen
as a queen, and be recognized as the reigning “folle" in Montreal. Thus
Claude Lemieux willingly disappeared in order to represent Elizabeth
Taylor's Cleopatra. When he found himself surrounded by Cleopatras at
the club, he realized the price of imitation: he had covered up what was
distinctive and vital, and as a result, looked like every other
transvestite at the costume party. Failing to make a reputation for his
impersonation meant losing the status and power he had acquired over the
years. Suddenly, however, status seemed unimportant; he discovered the
existence of Claude Lemieux who was determined to be himself without
disguise. It was then that Cleopatra died and Claude Lemieux began to
live.

In the bright lights at the club, Hosanna recognized himself as a
man, and rejected his ”femme" roles. In the bright lights of Lafontaine
Park, Cuirette recognized himself as a man in love with a man, and
rejected his role as "beu." When he discovered that he could not find
partners in the park as he once did, his first reaction was a sense of
loss. . Then he realized that shadowy encounters were no longer
important; his relationship with Hosanna was all that mattered. Later
reflecting on their quarrel about who was the "real” man, he saw that

such definitions were irrelevant; as a couple, they were free to arrange

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their activities according to their own needs and preferences. Thus
discarding. preconceived notions about how men and women should live,
Cuirette freed himself to make choices that promote spontaneity and
integrity.

The play concludes with a simple but confident declaration of
selfhood. Cuirette acknowledges that it is important for Hosanna to be
himself, and in telling Hosanna this, Cuirette also indicates his
readiness to accept the fact that Hosanna is a man. Hosanna resolves
his own dilemma by defining 'man' according to given physical
characteristics. Behavior involves choice, and to define behavior as
either masculine or feminine would be arbitrary and confining. By
defining “man” in only physical terms, Hosanna accepts his body and
asserts his freedom from the confining social norms and roles which have
traditionally determined how men and women should act.

Hosanna and Cuirette are the first Tremblay characters whose
transformation occurs on stage. Carmen's decision to leave home is
shown, but we do not see her in the process of establishing her freedom.
Haganna explores the experience of two men as they free themselves from
confining roles and self-images. They have chosen to withdraw from
conventional society, and therefore are not subject to some of its
standards; nevertheless, as active members of the homosexual community,
they have accepted the values of their group and conform to its
expectations. Not unlike the hallaa;aaaaza, they have begun to feel
confined, but their revolt is carefully thought out. Initially,
Hosanna's dreams are not too different from Therese's; if he eventually
sees that his goals are inappropriate, and selects new ones, it is

because he has learned that he alone is responsible for his life. He

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and Cuirette waste little time in self—pity, nor do they seriously blame
either themselves or others for the choices which they have made. They
think about what has happened in order to understand; then they accept
responsibility for mistakes and decide what to do next. In short, they
are very ordinary human beings who learn to exercise freedom. Their
achievement is far from spectacular; it is significant, however, for it
suggests that freedom is available--not for the asking-~but to everyone

who is willing to take responsibility for exercising it.

Notes

1 Michel Tremblay. Hm suivi de MW

(Montreal: Leméac, 1973) 40. All further references will be contained

within the text.

153

Surviving Family Bondage,
Reviving Family Bonds

fiaajaa;‘__1a‘__paajaa;, which opened August 22, 1974 in Ottawa,

focuses on the transition from dependence to freedom in family
relationships. The central figure is Serge, who is under pressure to
decide how he will relate to each of seven family members. He resists
the attempts of his two aunts and three married sisters to manipulate
him, and in doing so, consciously refuses strategies and goals which he
had not questioned as a child and youth. On the other hand, he
acknowledges his incestuous relationship with Nicole, his youngest
sister, and although he condemns the circumstances which promoted it, he
declares his intention to live'with her permanently, whatever the social
penalties may be. Finally, and perhaps most important of all, Serge
overcomes the barriers which have separated him from his father, and
establishes meaningful communication with him for the first time in
their lives.

By raising the issue of incest, Tremblay invites spectators to look
beneath conventional moral labels to determine whether a given
relationship fosters dependence or self-realization and responsible
freedom. Serge and Nicole apparently feel incapable of establishing
independent families of their own, but believe that they have
established a mutually satisfying and responsible relationship as a
couple, and therefore are entitled to continue it, even though it is not
sanctioned by society. Tremblay further complicates the issue by

154

155

showing how the mother, or mother substitute, in this case, may control
or use her children in order to meet her own unrecognized needs, even
ones which are sexual in nature. Thus, another aspect of the moral code
is questioned as certain child-rearing practices are examined and shown
to interfere with the healthy development of children's sexuality. Since
incest is a subject about which people have strong feelings, Tremblay
minimizes the emotional aspects; Serge and Nicole embrace, but their
love-making is not shown. Descriptions which emphasize the couple's
tenderness and happiness further distance the sexual element which many
theatre-goers might find disturbing. Above all, attention is given to
the way this unorthodox couple has tried to determine personal values
and lead lives consistent with those values. The play thus deals with a
potentially controversial subject in a very reasoned manner.

There are no stage directions to specify the time and setting of
this one-act play, but the conversations indicate that the events take
place on the evening of Serge's return from a three-month vacation in
Europe. As the play opens, Serge is eating an evening meal with his
father and two aunts, Charlotte and Albertine. He then visits each of
his four sisters, and finally returns to his father's home at the end of
the play. All characters remain on stage throughout the performance.
The lack of realistic details in the staging of the play serves as
another distancing technique. Audiences are invited to listen and then
reflect on what they have heard, and yet see that none of it is "real.”

Instead of organizing the text into scenes which follow each other
in chronological order, Tremblay treats the play as if it were a piece
of vocal music, with thirty-one numbered sections which are also labeled

according to the number of voices heard, from "Solo" to "Octuor." The

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voices, once introduced, progress in chronological order, except for
Serge's. He moves back and forth in time according to the person with
whom he is talking at the moment. For example, the conversation which
takes place at supper with Gabriel and the two aunts is heard in eight
installments, from Section 1 to Section 29; in Section 29, Serge
concludes his conversation with his father, says goodby to everyone whom
he has visited, and discusses with Nicole the need to find Gabriel a
different place to live. This interweaving of voices brings out the
complex network of values and attitudes within which Serge must act,
and forces the audience to experience some of the tension and confusion
which make it difficult for Serge to maintain his perspective and keep
his goals in clearly in mind.

The most insistent voices are those of Serge's aunts and married
sisters, who all demand his attention and help. Although they feel no
obligation to conform to traditional roles, they have developed their
individuality in only the most superficial ways, and are not strong
enough to identify and pursue meaningful goals. Tremblay has called
them "des produits parfaits de la societe de consommation de femmes."1
Since they have not experienced the satisfactions which they think
should be theirs, they try to dull their disappointment with pills,
food, and extra-marital affairs. Still dissatisfied, they want Serge to
be their "magic helper,” a term coined by Erich Fromm to indicate
someone who enables others to obtain what they expect from life. For
the person who depends on a "magic helper," Fromm explains, "the
question then is no longer how to live oneself but how to manipulate

‘him' in order not to lose him and how to make him do what one wants,

157

even to make him responsible for what one is responsible oneself."2 And
manipulate is exactly what these women try to do.

Serge is not duped by the strategies used to enlist his services as
"magic helper." His two aunts, for example, claim that he owes them a
debt of gratitude because ever since his mother died ten years ago, they
have run his father's home. Although it is not clear that their help was
either wanted or needed, each one points to her "sacrifice" to justify
her request: Albertine wants Serge to come back home, whereas Charlotte
would like to have a room with him and Nicole. (Neither one is fully
aware of the incestuous relationship between Serge and his sister.)
Complaining of poor health, boredom, and each other, they often sound
like traditional martyrs. In fact, however, they want more than a
sympathetic audience; they want someone to transform their lives, a
"magic helper” who will enliven their dull existence, giving them a
sense of purpose and a feeling of accomplishment.

Initially, the aunts' requests are unobtrusive, for neither one
wants the other to know her plans. Then, hearing Serge invite Gabriel
to live with him and Nicole, the two women join forces to protest that
they are being abandoned. Serge briefly loses patience, commanding "Vos
yeules!"3 He apologizes for his sharp words, but the women are upset by
the change in store for them. They have been in charge at Gabriel's;
now they will be obliged to live with their children, a situation which
will undoubtedly be more confining than their present one. Serge knows
that they prefer to remain where they are, and will blame him for
upsetting their lives, but is willing to pay that price in order to free

his father from their domination.

158

Although Serge's mother lived until he was fifteen, the three older
sisters participated in his care and recall with pleasure their role in
his life. Lucienne, twenty when Serge was born, bought him gifts of
candy, clothes, and even his first record player. She was his "deuxieme
moman," and he was her "p'tit soldat” (81-82). Monique especially liked
giving him and Nicole their baths, while Denise preferred rough-housing
and telling scary stories. "Pis j'aimais ca te faire peur parce que
j'pouvais te tripoter comme j'voulais," she remembers (83). Thus through
Serge, Denise and Monique found an outlet for their own emerging
sexuality, while Lucienne enjoyed the feeling of dominating her brother
through her economic power. In the process of meeting their own needs,
all three sisters made manipulation a habit.

Merely by visiting Monique and Denise, Serge recognizes their
existence and gives them a little of the attention they both long for.
Listening patiently to familiar complaints, Serge repeats advice he has
given many times before, but because he suggests what they must do for
themselves, they do not listen. They want to hear only what he or
someone else can do for them. Both sisters comment on his good looks
and sex appeal, obviously hoping that he will treat them as sexually
attractive, and therefore important in a system which values women as
sex objects. Monique, having taken a tranquilizer just after his
arrival, is in no condition to press her case, but Denise persistently
tries to draw Serge into the kinds of games they played when he was
small. Only after repeated objections, does he finally make her
understand that he does not enjoy her suggestive remarks and behavior.

In talking to both sisters, Serge avoids criticism and blame, gives

advice only if asked, and does not allow himself to be pushed into doing

159

things against his will. He has little hope that they will ever
understand their own situation, much less his, and while he does not
want to break his ties to them, he is prepared for that possibility. He
does not, however, tell them that he and Nicole are lovers. Monique is
shocked when she learns of it from Lucienne, but when she in turn tells
Denise, Denise refuses to believe her. Given their inability to face
the facts of their own lives, it seems likely that they will choose to
ignore the fact of incest. This would permit them to keep on thinking of
Serge as a potential "magic helper."

Lucienne represents Serge's most formidable obstacle to the
exercise of his freedom. An observant, but unprincipled woman who
expects to dominate her younger brother through a combination of money
and blackmail, she is used to having her own way. Early in life,
determined not to be ”toute nue dans'rue' like her mother, she set
economic security as her top priority in life, and did not hesitate to
renounce her cultural heritage in order to succeed (42). Instead of
marrying 'un p'tit crotte de Canadian francais" whose children would be
"complexes," she wanted to be "du,bon cOte d'la cleture, du c6té de
l'argent,‘ which meant marrying an English Canadian (43). To achieve
this goal, she "invested" in a medical student too poor to pay for
dates, but who now has a very good income. "Je l'ai voulu, mon Anglais
successful, ben je l'ai!" she boasts (43). The problem, she claims, is
that her plans have all gone like clockwork, and now she is bored. She
and her husband have little to say to each other, and her children do
not interest her; even the pleasure of spending money has its limits.
Serge listens, unimpressed by her success, and untouched by her appeals

for sympathy. Moreover, he refuses to let himself be provoked by the

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criticisms and high-handed commands to which she feels entitled as
eldest sister. Realizing that Serge is no longer her obedient "p'tit
soldat,” Lucienne simply increases the pressure, confident that he will
eventually yield.

The more Lucienne calls attention to signs of her power and
authority, the more it becomes apparent that she has none. She controls
neither Serge nor her husband and children. This would explain her
choice of lover, a young man who is one of Serge's friends, and whose
name is Robert--like her husband Bob, and son Bobby. If she can
dominate Robert, she can enjoy the illusion of dominating all the men in
her 1ife¢-husband, son, and brother. Serge, however, wants no part in
her schemes for meeting Robert. Her love affair, he insists, must be
her responsibility. Not to be refused, Lucienne threatens that unless
he helps her, she will tell the other sisters about his incestuous
relationship with Nicole. Although she holds Monique and Denise largely
responsible for having encouraged Serge's intimacy with Nicole when they
were children, Lucienne expects Serge to feel guilty for violating one
of society's strictest taboos. Assuming that he is in a weak and
vulnerable position, she tries to diminish still further his sense of
self-worth:

C'que j'fais, moé, c'est pas malade, Serge! I was so ashamed!
C'est vous autres, les malades! Vous avez pas honte, quand
vous vous retrouvez face e face? Hein? Ca vous fait rien?
Ca vous excite, peut-etre? J'gage que tu serais meme pas
capable de bander devant une fille qui serait pas ta soeur!
(66). '

Lucienne's original goal is all but forgotten as she assaults
Serge's masculinity. His independence is an intolerable reminder of her

own weakness, and intensifies her desire to dominate him. She therefore

attacks what she thinks is his weakest point, his sexual conduct. She

l6l

treats incest as proof that he is an inadequate male, seeking to
emasculate him further and render him impotent. Later, for the same
reason, she will refer to him as 'une tapette manquee," adding "Ouan,
j'en ai reve, men p'tit gars, j'en ai reve! J'me sus dit pendant
longtemps que c'etait c'qui pouvait t'arriver de mieux" (87). This
remark introduces a Duo in which Lucienne continues to belittle Serge's
manliness, arguing that he should have been a homosexual, while Nicole
recalls the couple's love-making and their happiness together. These
speeches, addressed to Serge, suggest by their juxtaposition that
despite Lucienne's comments, Serge has no doubts about his sexuality,
and finds his relationship with Nicole deeply satisfying.

Lucienne's failure to manipulate Serge casts doubt on everything
she claims to have achieved, and on all of her basic assumptions and
values as well. From childhood she equated money with power; as a
young woman, there was no better evidence of her succes than giving
Serge the presents no one else in the family could afford, and to have
him listen to her and respect her wishes. ”Tu t'en. rappelles," she
reminds him, 'tu faisais toute c'que j'voulais (80). More than a
display of power, her gifts were also intended to shape Serge's tastes
and values, and to make him feel indebted to her. But as he grew older,
Serge became aware of himself as an individual, and finding that he did
not share Lucienne's goals in life, he resisted her control. The more
independence he displayed, the more she wanted to dominate him, and
prove that no French Canadian male was any match for her, especially
after she had so successfully allied herself to a prosperous English

Canadian. Although Serge is far from wealthy or morally perfect, he

162

does not fear her power, and by not yielding to her, he shows the limits
of her authority.

Serge is not eager to discuss what he considers to be personal
matters, so when Lucienne first brings up the subject of incest, he
merely acknowledges that she is right and that he is in love with
Nicole. Then, when she persists, he tries to make her understand his
values and the self-questioning and thought that have gone into his
'final decision. He assures her that he and Nicole were aware of the
gravity of their situation, and explains that the purpose of his long
and expensive trip to Europe was to allow him and Nicole time alone to
make a responsible decision. After noting that as children they had not
had much choice about their relationship, he continues:

Ben la, j'y suis, dans les bras de Nicole! Pis a l'a trente
ans, pis moi j'en ai vingt-cinq! Ca fait qu'imagine-toe‘ donc
que j'me sus pose des questions, un moment donne! Okay, j'y
suis dans les bras de Nicole, mais c'est-tu es que j'veux
vraiment? Chus-tu ban dans les bras de Nicole? Ben apres
trois mois passes sans elle, j'te dirai, Lucienne, que oui,
chus ben dans les bras de Nicole, pis que oui, j'vas y rester
le plus longtemps possible! Que t'ayes honte de moe ou non,
qu'on soye oblige de demenager ben loin ou non, on est
ensemble, Lucienne, pis tant qu'on va pouvoir, on va rester
ensemble! Pour moe, tout est clair, tout est simple, astheur,
chus sur de mon affaire: moé, c'est de l'amour, Lucienne, du
vrai, sans histoires d'interet pis de securite en arriere;
c'est de l'amour, pis c'est beau! C'est beau! (Author's
emphasis, 90).

The decision making-process begins with a "prise de conscience" as
Serge faces the facts of his behavior and examines his personal values.
He realizes that in the past he had been influenced by his sisters, and
knows that he must now decide for himself how he wants to live. Fully
aware that society condemns incest and can ostracize offenders, Serge is

nevertheless mainly concerned with the interaction between him and

Nicole, and the quality of their life as a couple. Convinced that their

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love for each other is spontaneous, not calculating and self-serving (as
is Lucienne's, he implies), and prepared to accept the consequences of
their behavior, Serge believes that he and Nicole have made the best
choice for their future happiness. "On va s'aider a vivre, tou'es deux,"
he tells Lucienne, "pis on va vieillir ensemble, c'est-tu assez beau, on
a decide qu'on vieillirait ensemble sans se faire de mal!" (91).

Implicit in their choice is a refusal of authoritarian
relationships and conventional family relationships as well. The
reciprocal ‘verbs and terms such as "tou'es deux," and "ensemble"
emphasize shared purpose and mutual concern. Serge and Nicole have also
eliminated the notion of sex roles; gender is part of their identity,
but it is irrelevant to many aspects of their behavior. Their
relationship is free of socially determined expectations of how men and
women should act, and is constantly monitored by a skillful and
sensitive communication process. Conspicuous by its absence is any
expression of regret at the thought that they should remain childless.
Perhaps because as children they experienced manipulation in the guise
of love, they fear that if they established conventional families of
their own, they would unconsciously resort to the same kind of
authoritarian behavior to which they were subjected.

Nicole, quiet and unassuming, displays none of the authoritarian
traits which characterize her aunts and sisters. The contrast between
her and the other women is emphasized from the moment she tries to speak
in Section 3, an "Octuor." Twice she begins, but stops, as if excluded
by a wall of words.’ Finally, on her third attempt, she speaks, and
Serge hears her as she asks: “Vas-tu r'venir rester avec moé?" (40).

After a long embrace, which itself is an answer, he assures her that his

164

mind is now made up: "Oui... oui... oui!” (40). Reunited at last, they
reaffirm in person the decision already announced in their letters.

Like her sisters and aunts, Nicole believes that words are
important, but whereas the other women try to monopolize the power of
words by speaking more often than they listen, Nicole listens, even to
herself. Hearing unintended criticism in one of her remarks, for
example, she quickly revises her statement. As a good listener, Nicole
gives the speaker time to formulate an answer. When Serge was in Europe,
impatient as she was to hear from him, she waited until he wrote first,
allowing him time to reach his decision without interference from her.
Her aunts and sisters intercede in favor of the answers they want to
hear, and many never hear the actual response. Thus Denise thinks Serge
has agreed to come live with her family, and does not realize her error
until Monique phones. Even then, Denise does not listen to everything
Monique has to say, and hangs up on the unwelcome news. Nicole is the
only one of the sisters to notice that the aunts not only talk
incessantly, but also never listen, and she alone realizes the
consequences for Gabriel. “Y peut pas rester tu-seul avec eux autres
plus longtemps, la," she tells Serge, ”C'est pus possible, y vont 1e
rendre completement fou!" (92). A world where no one listens is
dehumanizing; a speaker is a non-person until he is heard.

Despite her joy at Serge's return Nicole discovers that she feels
"genee," and aware that this reduces the spontaneity of her welcome, she
tries to explain her behavior: ”Mes vieilles peurs me reviennent...
J'ai l'impression que j't'ai trop tripote... J'sais qu'on avait dit
qu'on parlerait pus de ca... mais j'voudrais tellement pas que tu te

sentes comme un p'tit gars avec sa mere (83). In her happiness and

165

excitement, Nicole is afraid of returning to patterns of behavior
established in childhood. Old habits are not easily broken, and even
now she must consciously exercise her will to avoid the once-automatic
responses of her youth.

Having been reminded of their past, Nicole cannot stop until she
has thought through the whole sequence of events leading to the present
situation. For years, she had neither foreseen nor willed their
eventual union; the family is to blame, she insists. Then she recalls
the moment she realized that their relationship had changed: Serge was
looking at her not as a brother looks at his sister, but as a man looks
at a woman. “J'ai eu tellement peur!" (88). Yet she concedes that
without admitting it to herself, she too had desired this. After the
consummation of their love, "tellement effrayant, pis tellement beau en
meme temps," she wished they could both die so no one would know, and
especially so that she would not have to remember. The following day,
to her surprise, she felt happy, and soon their relationship seemed
normal and above all, "beau" (88, 89). Nicole then describes her
anxiety as she waited to hear from Serge, and her happiness when she
finally learned of his decision. She ends her recapitulation of past
events by concluding: "T'as ben faite de toffer tes trois mois... La,
on est sfir" (92). Nicole feels reassured. She regrets the
circumstances which brought them together, but believes that they have
transcended their situation through love.

During the course of the play, the relationship between Serge and
his father undergoes a change which is indicated by their progress from
one-way conversations to genuine dialogue. In Section 1, although Serge

is present, he never speaks. In the opening line, Gabriel asks Serge

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"Pis, toujours, comment c'etait, l'Europe? (25). Before Serge can
reply, however, Gabriel begins talking about the trip as an exciting
adventure in which he has participated vicariously through Serge's
letters. He took pride and pleasure in thinking that his son was seeing
places which he had read about, but which no family member had visited.
In his enthusiasm, he sometimes told his companions at the tavern about
the places Serge described in his letters. Not everyone believed him,
but dismissing the skeptics as 'ignorants," "une gang de jaloux," he
adds that these are men who will never amount to anything (26-27). As
Gabriel continues to talk about his interests and activities, it is
clear that he does not feel that he is a powerless victim of forces
beyond his control. Unlike Gerard and Leopold, the fathers in previous
plays, he has not been demoralized by physical limitations or his job.
Moreover, through friends at the tavern and his reading, Gabriel has
remained in touch with the outside world, thus avoiding the intellectual
and emotional atrophy which marks his two sisters, whose inane comments
and questions have served as counterpoint to Gabriel's remarks
throughout Section 1.

Serge soon discovers that his father's hearing has recently grown
worse, and even with the most powerful hearing aid, he can scarcely
hear. Nevertheless, Gabriel wants to thank Serge for the hearing aid
which the family gave him six or seven years ago. This brings up the
whole subject of communication. Gabriel notes that although he could
talk.to the men at the tavern, he and Serge have never talked easily to
each other. His hearing was not the only problem. "J'ai pas été eleve
pour ca, j'suppose," he explains, "J'ai toujours eté gene avec vous

autres, pis j'pense que j'vous ai genes avec ca" (76). Too proud to say

167

how much the hearing aid meant at the time he received it, he till finds
it hard to talk about. "Pis ca me prend tout mon p'tit change pour te
parler, a soir,” he admits (76). Although ill at ease, he continues.
Thanks to the hearing aid, he heard his children's voices for the first
time, and heard music again for the first time in forty years. "C'est
le plus beau cadeau... Le plus beau cadeau de toute ma vie,” he tells
Serge (79). The aunts at this moment are complaining about having to
listen to each other. ”Des fois j'envie assez Gabriel d'étre sourd,”
Albertine remarks, showing how unaware she is of her own deafness to
those around her (79). Gabriel, who has finally found words to express
his feelings, is pleased with his accomplishment. "Tu pourrais dire...
que ton vieux pere t'aura parle, une fois, dans sa vie," he concludes
(79).

Despite his impaired hearing, Gabriel has apparently always been
aware of what was happening in his family, and is concerned with his
children's welfare, whether he shares their goals or not. Convinced
that Lucienne thinks him a “gros epais,' Gabriel never offers her any
advice; nevertheless, he deos not want to see her ruin her life by
having an affair with Robert (46). He also realized what was happening
to Serge and Nicole, but did not feel he could intervene. Gabriel's main
”handicap” is the upbringing which has made it hard for him to talk to
his children. He alludes to it only briefly, yet his remark "J'ai pas
ete eleve pour ca" pinpoints the problem: men are traditionally
expected to be strong and authoritative; they should decide, not
discuss. Gabriel has neither conformed to the usual authoritarian male
role, nor has he known how to initiate with his children the kind of

relationship which would both protect and respect them, and also express

168

his love. In his thank-you speech to Serge, Gabriel takes an important
step toward being the kind of father he has always wanted to be: he
acknowledges his handicap and reveals his love for his children. The
existence of love in this authoritarian milieu is all the more
remarkable in that Gabriel is under no illusions as to his children's
strengths and weaknesses. His love is freely given and non-coercive; he
asks nothing in return.

Serge's reply is heard eight sections later in a Trio in which the
aunts talk as usual, and Gabriel listens. Serge's opening remarks
parallel his father's: they have never had a serious conversation and
consequently do not really know each other. Serge, too, has felt "gene”
in his efforts to communicate. As a schoolboy, he sometimes wrote
letters to his father, but always threw them away, he explains, "parce
que j'etais trop gene pour te les donner“ (94). At times he needed to
talk to Gabriel just because they were the only two men in the house.
Now he must shout intimate feelings; "Pis ca me bloque,” he admits, but
continues, because he wants Gabriel to hear that he is loved (94). The
aunts also continue to talk, even though Serge is shouting, telling his
father four times 'J't'aime," words which he needs to say, and which he
believes that his father needs to hear (95). The aunts' mindless
conversation again heightens the significance of what is happening
between father and son. Albertine, after telling about how hard it is
to fix good meals, has concluded that it is not worth it to keep on
trying. Three times remarking "Ca vaut pus la peine," she then concludes
the Trio: “Y'est trop tard, pour se forcer, y'est trop tard!” (96).

Gabriel is seventy, and almost completely deaf, but as his tears

testify, it is not too late for him: father and son have freed

169

themselves from their inhibitions and handicaps, and have expressed
their love. With Serge and Gabriel, as with Nicole, communication is
accompanied by a recognition of feelings which interfere with speaking.
”Gene” is used by all three, and they understand that the listener may
feel the same way. Serge and Nicole also use the term "bloqué" to
describe their inability to put their feelings into words.

Such terms are noticeably absent from the final Section, where
Serge and his father, now completely unself-conscious and at ease,
discuss Serge's suggestion that Gabriel live with him and Nicole.
Gabriel reminds his son that he is old, set in his ways, and not much
help around the house, but Serge foresees no problems. Reassured,
Gabriel acknowledges that he had hoped for this opportunity: "Si tu
savais... Ca fait tellement longtemps que j'attends ca!” (104). There
is one more thing to discuss, Serge begins, but Gabriel cuts him short:
”Laisse faire, mon garcon... Laisse faire 1e rest. J'le sais, 1e
reste...” (104). Gently deflecting a needless confession, he reminds
Serge that the aunts are listening, and sends him home to bed. The play
closes as Serge says good night, ”Bonjour, la," and his father replies
"Bonjour," a Quebecois farewell which also serves to greet a new and
long-desired relationship between father and son (105). They are united
at last, each affirming the individuality of the other with love and
respect.

The discovery of an independent, vital self has been the central
event in the three previous plays. Through a brief experience of
spontaneous love, the Duchesse realized that despite his years of role-
playing and prostitution, he was still a living, feeling person in his

own right. Carmen, observing that her parents' way of life was self-

170

defeating, saw that she was free to choose a different way of life,
provided that she would be reaponsible for her choices. And Hosanna,
surrounded by a roomful of Cleopatras, suddenly knew that his role-
playing was ridiculous, and began to look for the man beneath the
disguise. With this, he and Cuirette were able to move toward a more
honest relationship.

In 52n12311_l§i_2231231. the emphasis is on the process of forming
relationships which respect the integrity and freedom of each person
involved. When the play begins, Serge and Nicole have already discovered
their freedom as individuals, and have chosen to share a way of life
which they think will be mutually fulfilling. During the course of the
play, however, several family members attempt to use Serge for their own
purposes, thus testing his resolve to live according to the values
important to him. Without resorting to the authoritarian strategies used
by the others, he not only resists manipulation but also defends the
decision to live with Nicole. Serge is unique among Tremblay's
characters in his attempts to maintain communication with family
members. At the same time, he is not intimidated by the threat of being
repudiated by the family, for he knows that acceptance is meaningless if
he is not accepted as he is. Integrity is essential to freedom.

The greatest test of Serge's integrity comes when he prepares to
tell his father about his relationship to Nicole. By offering to share
his life openly and intimately with his father, he not only maintains
his integrity, but learns that his father is an even more sensitive and
loving man than he had realized, one who respects the rights of his
children to make their own choices. At the play's conclusion, the issue

of incest seems somehow irrelevant, a false issue used mainly to

171

emphasize Serge's non-conformity to society's norms governing family
relationships. The play's drama is in fact centered on the efforts of
two men to find the words they need to express their inner feelings, and
thus free themselves from outworn authoritarian definitions of "father,"
”son," "man." Discarding traditional male roles, they affirm the
importance of love, communication, and mutual respect. In doing so, they
attain the freedom they have both dreamed of: the freedom to be

themselves with each other.

In this group of plays, through the death of a couple, Tremblay
signals the end of two traditional roles: ma1a_aa_familla and aa;a__aa
familla. Although by 1961, society was becoming less repressive
intellectually and sexually, Carmen's liberation is shown to be
primarily the result of her ability to identify personal values, and to
assume responsibility for achieving the goals she has chosen. In the
next two plays, Tremblay explores the problem of establishing non-
authoritarian relationships which respect and encourage freedom. By
acknowledging their mutual love, Hosanna and Cuirette resist social
pressures which emphasize sexual domination, and free themselves from
artificial, divisive gender roles. In the process, memories of a
manipulative mother are exorcised. In 829193;, the protagonist
consistently refuses to be drawn into authoritarian relationships,
choosing instead ones which are mutually supportive and based on love.
Central to the play is the formation of a closer bond between father and
son, thus ending the feeling of reserve which has separated them. Now,

having replaced confining family roles with liberating relationships,

172

Tremblay will turn from the family to the artist, and to the issues of

integrity, freedom, and the artist's place in society.

Notes

1 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Michel Tremblay et la mémoire

collective," by Donald Smith, L£££12§_92éhé£21§2§ automne 1981: 53.

2 Erich Fromm, Eaaana_fzam_£;aaaan (1941; New York: Discus-Avon,

1965) 199.

3 Michel Tremblay, Banjaa;‘_1a‘_haniaa1 (Montreal: Leméac, 1974)

103. All further references will be contained within the text.

173

PART IV

THE ARTIST, INTEGRITY, AND SOCIETY

174

Sainte Carmen de la Main: The Impossible Role

Sain;a_ga;man_aa_la_uain opened July 20, 1976 as part of a cultural

festival associated with the Montreal Olympics. Staged in keeping with
the stylistic conventions of Greek tragedy, the play was poorly
received by audiences and critics alike, and closed after three
performances. In June 1978 a revised version proved more successful, but
the play has never enjoyed the popularity of the other plays in the
cycle. Since Tremblay has not altered the published text, it stands as
he first wrote it, an ”opera parle' based on Carmen, the daughter who
freed herself from her family to become a western singer in A_§91a__paa;
gagiaaza‘__§a__fla:1a;Laa.1 In his 1976 play, Tremblay addresses the
question left unanswered in 1971: will Carmen simply internalize her
cowgirl role, or will she develop her individuality and become a freer,
more creative person? Moreover, if she proves to be an artist, what
kind of relationship will she establish with her audience? Using a
variety of linguistic and theatrical devices, Tremblay explores these
questions not only from Carmen's point of view, but also from the
perspective of others who make their living on the Main, either as
”bosses" or as prostitutes.

A. strikingly theatrical work, fiain§a__§a;man combines elements
taken from many sources. The play's title, one example of the
Christian element, announces Carmen's eventual martyrdom and identifies

her cause as holy. The religious atmosphere is further emphasized by

175

176

Bec-de-Lievre, the devoted assistant and confidante who helps Carmen
dress ”comme un enfant de choeur aide un prétre a revétir ses derniers
ornaments avant une ceremonie importante," and who relates three events
from Carmen's life as if reading passages from a sacred text.2 The
overall effect of these devices is to dignify seemingly ordinary events
which lead first to self-affirmation and then to self-sacrifice.

Tremblay also makes use of techniques from classical Greek theatre
and opera. A double chorus made up of transvestites led by Sandra, and
prostitutes, whose leader is Rose Beef, speaks for the forgotten people
of the Main whom Andre Brassard has described as "ces gens qui s'offrent
en ‘cheap labor,’ qui ne survivent qu'en se vendant, et en se vendant
mal. La sous-classe de la société".3 While the choral groups also
provide information about events and people, their main function is
reflect an oppressed people's initial experience of freedom. Because
they are not consciously aware of freedom, and cannot discuss it in
philosophical or political terms, they describe their experience through
the use of a poetic language in which the sun is the central image.
Speeches, carefully arranged with attention to rhythm, tempo, and
variations of pitch and volume, effectively convey a wide range of
emotions. Often the voices unite to express shared joy and hope, and a
sense of community. At the play's end, however, the confused jumble of
unintelligible sounds suggests that the community has completely
disintegrated.

Sain§a_gaxman takes place on the day of Carmen's first performance
at the Rodeo Cafe after an absence of six months. She has been in
Nashville working with more experienced singers. As the play opens, the

two choruses are discussing the dawn which they had witnessed earlier.

177

Usually so slow to rise, the sun had appeared suddenly, "comme un coup
de poing rouge au bout d'la Catherine" (6). It was ”une grosse boule de
feu rouge,“ ”rouge sang,” striking, frightening, and yet "beau" (5,6).
Neither group had had a profitable night; they were cold, tired, and
discouraged, but their mood changed when they saw the sun. Then, in a
"bruit d'enfer' Carmen appears before them, and they realize what makes
that morning different: "C'est aujourd'hui que Carmen revient pis 1e
soleil a decide de feter ca,” they exclaim in unison (10). On the
street, people joyously greet each other and embrace; at home, others
begin to bathe and dress in their best for Carmen's concert. Even the
neighborhood streets join in the preparations: "Aujourd'hui, la
Catherine s'est fait faire un lifting pis la Main s'est lavee! Carmen
est 1e!“ (11). Everyone agrees: "Le soleil, c'est Carmen!” (12). She
rose that morning, she warmed the Main all afternoon, and now they
chorus, "C'est Carmen qui est au-dessus de moe pis qui me regarde"
(12). And that night the sun will not really set over the Main because
"c'est e soir que la soleil revient chanter pour nous autres! C'est a
soir que le soleil revient chanter...pour moe” (13). Carmen has a
message for them all and for each one personally.

Thus Tremblay depicts a people's awakening from a long night of
passivity and despair. The sun's red fist suggests that a new day is
riot born without violence, but the climate has changed, making growth
{Dossible at last. Sensing that a significant change is under way,
E>eople soon put aside their usual routines and declare a holiday. There
ILs a feeling of camaraderie, and as the sun rises higher, warming people
and stimulating them to new activity, they think of Carmen. She could

liave better jobs if she wished, but she has chosen to return to the

178

Main, a decision which makes her fans feel as if they mattered to her.
Strong and independent, she shares her energy with them, restoring their
vitality and reviving their interest in the outside world. And although
they do not know what will happen at the concert that night, they are
certain that Carmen will help them.

Carmen is indeed determined to help her fans understand and
improve their situation. She realizes that to do this, she must first be
able to communicate with them successfully. While in Nashville, she
translated the new songs herself; 'Chus capable astheur," she comments
with pride and satisfaction (14). Although the French may not be
perfect, she is confident that her Montreal audience will understand
her. Moreover, she feels as if the songs now belong to her: "C'est mes
chansons e moe, astheur, parce que j'ai travaille dessus!" (14). Her
emphasis on meaning and the need for possessing the language she uses
is significant in a community where language and communication have been
abused and neglected. Carmen's purpose is thus quite different from the
goal of Lisette de Courval, the halla;aaaa; who wanted to sound French
in order to conceal her Quebecoise identity. For Lisette, the value of
language lay in its power to deceive; for Carmen, the value of language
is its power to communicate accurately and honestly feelings as well as
ideas. She realizes that truth is necessary for independent thought and
‘action. There is no freedom for people who do not confront reality and
(listinguish it from disguise and illusion.

During her six months of regular practice with good musicians,
(Zarmen has done more than polish her performance. She has learned that

Inusic too has power; it can inspire, lift, and free the spirit, but like

179

language, it must be controlled and made to serve. Her experiences

have given her a new perspective:
Faut dire que j'ai tellement change en six mois, si tu savais!
J'ai une nouvelle chanson, Bec-de-Lievre, la, que quand
j'commence e faire les yodles, e'fin, j'ai pus l'impression
que c'est moe qui chants! J'ai l'impression d'étre...
quequ'chose de grand pis de fort... qui plane, pis qui regarde
en bas en suivant 1e vent... La musique, Bec-de-Lievre, c'est
comme 1e vent... Faut que t'apprennes a la suivre. Pis faut
que t'apprennes e t'en servir! A la dompter! Pis quand tu
reussis... t'es pus pareil (15).
In the process of "taming" her music, Carmen found that she was free to
be herself, free to create something unique, completely her own. It was
an experience which gave her fresh insight into the problems of the
Main; equally important, it was an experience which she believed would
enable her to communicate with her audience in a direct and powerful
way.

But an artist must also be free to perform. In Tooth Pick, Carmen
has an enemy determined to prevent her from reaching her audience.
Appearing suddenly before her, Tooth Pick reminds her of a threat made
before she went to Nashville: 'J't'avais dit que j'arais ta peau si tu
r'venais icitte, Carmen. T'es r'venue. J'trouverai ben un moyen de
t'avoir' (16). Carmen leaves without replying. Wordlessly Tooth Pick
remains on stage for a moment, "comme apres une victoire" (16). Then he
too exits. The lack of explanation makes his threat seem even more
ominous.

Alone on stage, Bec-de-Lievre recites the first "passage” from the
life of Carmen, an account of her birth. Carmen's mother, it seems,
understood nothing of childbirth until she entered labor. She assumed

that the baby would be delivered through her navel, and was horrified to

learn the truth. After Carmen's birth, she is quoted as having said:

180

"‘81 la premiere chose qu'un enfant voit en venant au monde c'est le cul
de sa mere, demandez-vous pas pourquoi c'que le monde est dans'marde!'"
(16-17). Then, it is said, she refused to see her baby for a year.

Misinformed and ignorant, Marie-Louise believed that her child was
impure from birth, and rejected her, thus separating herself from life
and love as well. In view of her mother's alienation, Carmen's capacity
for love is indeed remarkable. She recognizes the human worth in
society's pariahs, and through the song which her love for them has
inspired her to write, she has experienced transcendence and the joy of
creativity. Nevertheless, Tooth Pick's threat is a reminder that Carmen
is still physically vulnerable, regardless of her inner strength and the
power of her love.

Once again the choruses enter. First Sandra, Rose Beef, and Bec-de-
Lievre discuss Carmen's beauty, her songs, and the rumor that it will be
a special evening. Then the choruses describe the scene outside. The
Main, with its bright lights, is empty and calm, awaiting the people who
will soon be on their way to the Rodeo. Only Hosanna is staying home;
"Est trop orgueilleuse," the choruses explain (20). They also mention
that the Duchesse will not be there, either. "La duchesse de Langeais
est morte assassinee dans un parking, y'a deux semaines," they announce
matter-of-factly (20). Unobtrusively mentioned among the Main regulars,
these two familiar figures are distinguished in the present context only
by their absence. The reference to Hosanna's pride is ambiguous;
perhaps he wishes to show that unlike Carmen's admirers, he is strong
and does not need her help. The brief report of the assassination is
also ambiguous, for it implies the passive, unquestioning acceptance

of the system which oppresses them all.

..‘t—

 

 

 

 

 

 

181

In the past, Carmen gave little thought to how the Main was
governed. Concentrating on her music, she did not concern herself with
the way Maurice managed his numerous business interests. Now, however,
fearing that Tooth Pick will laugh at her and disrupt her concert,
Carmen turns to Maurice for help. Since he is Tooth Pick's employer, she
tells him that she wants Tooth Pick kept away from the club when she
sings, even if he has to be killed. 'J'veux que tu 1e cloues comme t'as
cloue Dum-Dum, y'a quatre ans," she insists (21). Carmen sees no reason
why Maurice should not take care of this potential problem in the usual
way--by force.

Sensing that Maurice is reluctant to do as she asks, Carmen accuses
hbm of being afraid: "Tout le monde tremble devant toe parce que tu
peux leur faire du mal, mais des fois j'me demands si tu trembles pas
devant tout le monde pour les memes raisons“ (22). Someday, she
predicts, Maurice will be caught and destroyed by the very system which
he has created to bring the Main under his control: ”T'as mal tisse ta
toile, Maurice, pis un bon jour l'araignee pourrait ben mourir etouffee
au milieu de ses mouches' (22). He rules the Main "comme un rat sur un
corps a vidange,‘ she adds contemptuously; in him, the Main inherited
'un roi de seconde main" (22, 23). As for Tooth Pick, "Y'est gros comme
une pinotte,” she says, implying that he is too small and insignificant
to be a threat to Maurice (23).

Maurice denies being afraid of Tooth Pick, but as he reveals the
nature of their partnership, it is clear that Carmen has misjudged them
both. Maurice uses Tooth Pick to enforce his authority on the Main; he
stops at nothing, including murder. Five victims are mentioned

specifically, including Dum-Dum and the Duchesse, but there are more.

182

Although Tooth Pick may look harmless, Maurice explains, he uses his
small size to advantage: "C'est ben ca qui fait sa force... Y passe
partout. Pis y vise juste. Pis... y'a ben de l'imagination" (25). And
because each man knows about the other's crimes, Maurice concludes, "On
est pognes ensemble comme deux charognes" (25). The expression aptly
describes their unsavory mutual dependence.

Carmen does not disguise her contempt for Tooth Pick, but
understands that Maurice would neither fire nor kill him. Nevertheless,
she insists that he must not be permitted to interrupt her concert
because she has something special to say to her audience: "j'me sus
rendu compte que j'avais des affaires a dire au monde parce que moe
aussi j'les aime. Ca fait que j'veux pas, entends-tu, 1L2aax_paa qu'un
p'tit tueur s'assoye e'premiere table en avant pis qu'y me rote
dans'face!‘ (Author's emphasis, 25-26). Making no promises, Maurice
merely asks the reason for Tooth Pick's enmity. Carmen explains that
while drunk, he had exposed himself, and she had laughed heartily at the
sight. "J'sais pas si c'est de le que ca vient,” she concludes, "mais y
le porte ben, son nom!" (26). Unperturbed, Carmen treats the whole
incident as inconsequential.

The issue undoubtedly involved more than virility, however; Carmen
represented a threat to Tooth Pick's control over the people of the
Main. Not only had she begun to awaken her audiences to the possibility
of change, she possessed an inner strength which Tooth Pick might well
have envied and feared. Although she worked for Maurice, she was not
dependent on him; Tooth Pick was. She set her own standards as a
performer, worked, studied, and now has hopes of going to the top as a

singer. Her professional growth has been accompanied by the realization

183

that the dispossessed people of the Main also have potential for growth.
And she believes that she can give them the help they need to get out of
their seemingly hopeless situation. Tooth Pick, forever tied to
.Maurice, has no existence of his own, and is alienated from the society
in which he lives. His only power is the power to destroy. In taking a
life, he has a brief moment of control which allows him to transcend his
dependence and weakness. His vow to "get” Carmen may have been provoked
by her laughter at the unimpressive evidence of his manhood, but
ultimately he seeks to destroy her because she is self-possessed and
unafraid. Somewhat less perceptive than Tooth Pick, Maurice has yet to
learn that although Carmen is his mistress and his employee, she is also
strong and determined to be free.

The arrival of Gloria initiates further discussion of the
entertainer's role. A singer once popular for her Latin American songs,
she is 'une vraie reine dechue,' according to the choruses (28). They
say that her songs were enchanting, but when she was no longer present,
her magic disappeared, too, "comme si Gloria voulait garder pour elle
tu-seule sa musique envoutante' (28). ”Quand Gloria me regarde chus
t'un feu d'artifice,” they explain,‘ "mais quand Gloria regarde
ailleurs... chus pus rien" (28). Now they prefer Carmen's music, and
Gloria has not forgiven them for their disloyalty. The purpose of
Gloria's visit is to undermine Carmen's confidence just before her
concert. First ridiculing western music as inauthentic and trivial, she
then asserts: "Nashville, aujourd'hui, kid, c'est rien a cete de Miami
Beach en cinquante-cinq” (31). In her mind, success is not measured by
music or authenticity, but by the size of the orchestra, the wealth of

the audience, and the flamboyant stage effects. In all these ways, she

 

 

 

 

boasts,
amateur,
In
compassiu
goals a‘
descendr!
(33).
Gloria,

her and

 

 

 

deceived
however,
enchantm
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illUStr;
Lievre,
help Vi
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184

boasts, she has surpassed Carmen's achievements. Calling Carmen an
amateur, she announces he own plans for a comeback and sweeps out.

In response to Gloria's outrageous remarks, Carmen expresses more
compassion than anger. She respects Gloria's achievements, but her own
goals are different: ”a comprendra jamais que ca m'intéresse pas de
descendre du plafond au.milieu des balounes en chantant en espagnol"
(33). Once again Carmen emphasizes the importance of communication.
Gloria, true to her name, seeks glory and personal power. By dazzling
her audiences, she hopes to dominate them, but she is the first to be
deceived by the empty glitz and glitter of her shows. The choruses,
however, have already declared their loyalty to Carmen; the fleeting
enchantment of Gloria's music is no match for Carmen's songs, which give
them renewed hope.

The relationship between Carmen and Bec-de-Lievre effectively
illustrates the message in her songs. Taking an interest in Bec-de-
Lievre, who was a lavatory attendant at the time, Carmen taught her to
help with costumes. But now, impressed with Carmen's progress and plans
for songs which she has written.herself, Bec-de-Lievre is afraid that
Carmen will no longer want the help of someone with so little talent,
and will send her back to her former task. Carmen assures her that
there will be no change. Happy to know that she still is wanted and has
a contribution to make, Bec-de-Lievre begins to massage Carmen's neck,
using her special technique which helps Carmen relax before a
performance. United by mutual affection and respect, the star and her
maid work constructively together in a relationship free of the

manipulation which binds Maurice to Tooth Pick.

 

 

 

 

in

or

“Y

185

As the choruses and leaders describe the crowd.which is gathering
in the Rodeo, they notice that Tooth Pick as taken the best table and
ordered champagne. "Y parle a parsonne," they observe in unison,
'Y'attend. Mais quoi?” (39). Their question is followed by silence.
The tension and alarm now mount rapidly, but despite Bec-de-Lievre's
warnings to be careful, Carmen is confident. ”A soir va etre un grand
soir," she says, repeating the words of the choruses (41). Then she
looks out at the audience, sees Tooth Pick and Gloria, and is
frightened: 'J'y vas pas! J'ai peur de lui! Chus pas capable de
monter sur le stage! Chus pas capable!" (42). Panic-stricken, Carmen
nevertheless gives the signal for the overture to begin, and stands
ready to make her entrance, as Bec-de-Lievre relates another event in
the life of Carmen: her first communion.

It seems that when Carmen tried on the dress she was to wear at her
first communion, Marie-Louise exclaimed: ”Maudit que t'es laide! Une
premiere communiante, c'est beau, mais toe, t'es laide"(43). Convinced
that her daughter was not in a state of grace, she decided to postpone
the ceremony for a year. 'Si tu fais ta premiere communion pis que
t'es pas en etat de grece, tu vas aller en enfer tout drette," she
warned her daughter (43). Frightened, Carmen agreed with her mother's
decision to wait, exclaiming "Chus pas capable!" (44). Carmen the
singer cries out the same words, then calls for help as she had as a
child: 'J'veux pas y aller! Moman! Aide-moe!" (44). This overlapping
of Bec-de-Lievre's narrative and Carmen's present behavior emphasizes
the similarity of the two situations, but in the case of Carmen's first
communion, the warning proved to be unfounded. Without telling her

family, she got up early, took communion alone, and resolved that she

186

would "partir de c'te maison de fous-la au plus sacrant pour se
debarrasser de as mere folle“ (44). Then, since it was still early, she
went back to bed. "En reve, Carmen chantait, c'te matin-1e. Y parait,"
Bec-de-Lievre concludes (44). In the background, the overture ends;
Carmen takes a deep breath, again implores her mother's help, and goes
on stage to give her long-awaited concert at the Rodeo.

In this recitation, Bec-de-Lievre celebrates Carmen's precocious
display of independence. Although she was only seven, she refused to be
defined as an ugly and unacceptable human being, and took full
responsibility for her actions. She found that she was ”capable," after
all. Then she sang for joy; she had discovered the meaning of freedom.

The night of the concert, however, the situation is different. She
knows that she is not in Tooth Pick's good graces, and that sooner or
later, he will try to harm her. Yet the waiting audience calls her name,
and she cannot refuse them. The special music she has prepared will make
possible a new experience of sharing, their first real communion.
Although Carmen is afraid, she refuses to be deterred. As Act One comes
to a close, Carmen goes ahead with her concert, making a deliberate
choice to affirm human worth and freedom, whatever the risk may be.

Tooth Pick opens Act Two as he crosses the stage with a gun under
his arm, wordlessly announcing his intention to kill Carmen. When he has
exited, Bec-de-Lievre enters to relate the amazing events which have
just taken place.

”Carmen a parle de moe," Bec-de-Lievre begins, "Carmen a dit des
affaires dans ses chansons qui venaient de ma vie, a moe!" (49). Carmen
said that the story of her affair with Helene was not ugly but

beautiful, and that she, Bec-de-Lievre was "une chanson d'amour endormie

 

 

 

dans
somed

j'étz

and
the}

and

187

dans une taverns" (49). Carmen also said of her that she might awake
someday and make her mark in the world. "Carmen a dit qu'au fond de moe
j'etais forte,“ she exclaims, amazed at the thought (49).

Soon Bec-de-Lievre's words are being repeated by Rose Beef, Sandra,
and both choruses. The remarks pass from one speaker to another, as
they all make the same discovery of self-worth and share the same hope
and joy:

TOUS: Carmen a dit qu'au fond de moe j'etais forte!

BEC-DE-LIEVRE: Tout le monde m'a toujours dit que j'etais
laide!

SANDRA: Que j'etais vulgaire!

ROSE BEEF: Que j'savais pas parler!

CHOEURS I et II: Que j'etais sale!

TOUS: Tout le monde a toujours eu honte de moe! Mais Carmen
m'a dit que j'etais belle pis que je pourrais sortir de la
taverne! (Silence.) Sortir de la taverne!

CHOEUR I: Reveille-toe, qu'a l'a dit!

CHOEUR II: Leve-toe qu'a l'a dit!

SANDRA, ROSE BEEF, BEC-DE-LIEVRE: Reste pas effouerrée de
meme!

TOUS: Reste pas assis! Reste pas assis! J'vas t'aider!
(Silence.) Carmen m'a offert de m'aider. Ah! J'oublierai
jamais sa derniers chanson! (53).
These simple expressions take on excitement and intensity as they are
woven into first one pattern of sounds and then another. The message is
the same, yet the arrangement varies, suggesting that while the group
shared a common experience, each individual's response was unique.
Hearing that they are beautiful and strong encourages them to think of

leaving the bars and clubs, and freeing themselves from their sordid

lives on the Main. Thus Tremblay represents a people's first glimpse of

188

themselves as individuals with potential which, although undefined, is
within them, to be developed and used by them, for their own purposes.
When Carmen enters, she is being questioned by Maurice about her
final number. She admits including a song that was different from the
others, but asks:
Penses-tu vraiment que les yodles peuvent faire crier, hurler,
siffler, piocher le monde de meme? Penses-tu que si j'etais
r'venue avec le meme genre de paroles qu'avant, que le monde
serait monte sur leurs chaises pis meme sur leurs tables pour
m'empecher de sortir du stage? Y'a jamais personne qui les a
rendus fous de meme, Maurice, parce qu'y a jamais personne qui
leur a parle d'eux autres! (57).

Knowing that Maurice does not care about her listeners' needs, she

quickly returns to her original argument: she will attract large

audiences to the Rodeo.

Maurice, however, sees change as a potential threat. At present,
his clientele is weak and easily manipulated; he knows exactly how to
profit from the situation. "C'est toute une gang de sans-dessein, pis
de sans-coeur, pis de soulons, pis de dopes," he insists (61). If these
people take Carmen's advice, they will grow stronger and more
independent, and ultimately stop coming to the Rodeo, he argues; if they
are too weak to improve their situation, they will leave anyway because
they do not want Carmen to know of their failure. ”T'es as secoues, a
soir, t'as réussi a les faire brailler, okay, c'est ben beau, chus ben
content pour toe, mais tu restes rien qu'une plotte pareille," Maurice
continues, thus reinforcing his initial comment that she is "a piece of
ass," hired to encourage escapism (61). The people who end up on the
Main do not want to be changed or saved; "Y'a rien d'autre a faire avec

eux autres que de leur faire cracher leur cennes" (61). That is where

she comes in, he explains:

189

Comprends donc une fois pour toutes que t‘es-t-icitte pour
faire de l'entertainment, pas plus! On n'est pas a l'armee du
salut! Ton rele consiste a te deguiser en cow-girl a tous les
soirs en montrant tes jambes le plus possible, a grimper sur
le stage pis a faire baver les hommes en te faisant aller, en
sentant fort pis en chantant fort! N'importe quoi, mais fort!
Ton talent est dans tes yodles, pis moe, ton boss, tout c'que
j'te demande c'est d'etre la meilleure du genre, la reine du
yodle, une fille que le monde du dehors vont venir entendre
chanter parce qu'y vont avoir entendu dire qu'y'en n'a pas une
autre comme toe pour se faire aller le gorgoton! (en riant)
‘La Main a besoin qu'on y parle de la Main!’ La Main a besoin
qu'on pogne 1e cul, c'est toute! (61-62).
Maurice is no philosopher, but he can see that Carmen opposes the system
from which he derives his power, and as her “boss," he does not hesitate
to tell her what she is to sing: 'demain tu reviens a ton ancien
repertoire ou ben donc tu chantes pas,” he warns (62).

Carmen persists in her arguments, however, claiming that Maurice is
part of the problem, since he supplies the alcohol and drugs which are
ruining. people's lives. She implies that eventually Maurice will
destroy his customers, and thus cut off his own source of income. But
quite aside from the economic considerations, Carmen is convinced that
the people who live and work on the Main are capable of much more than
Maurice thinks. She cites the example of his sister, Bec-de-Lievre, and
argues that others would blossom too, once given encouragement and the
chance to learn useful skills. "Pendant que j'etais partie, j'ai compris
des affaires que j'veux essayer de leur expliquer. Y sont a terre, mais
y faut qu'y se relevent! On n'a pas 1e droit des laisser lA! J'sens que
chus capable d'les aider a se relever,” she tells Maurice (63-64). She
foresees the time when the Main regulars will want to stand up and be
seen, to laugh and sing, and to shout: "R'gardez, chus la, me v'la!"

instead of whispering: ”Oubliez-moé, chus laide!" (64). People will

discover that they do not have to live in shame, that despite what they

190

have been told, they can make something of their lives. Moreover, she

declares, now that she has begun, she will not give up:
La Main merite de vivre mais y faut l'aider a s'en rendre
compte! J'ai commence a soir, Maurice, pis j'm'arreterai
certainement pas le! Si tu veux m'aider. tant mieux. Sinon,
tant pis. J'me sens assez sure de moe pis assez forte pour te
tenir tete. J'pourrais ben passer du creux de ton lit a la
tete de tes ennemies (64).

Maurice only laughs and repeats his earlier ultimatum: unless she

returns to her former repertoire, she is fired. Then he leaves.

Carmen and Maurice have come to the heart of the problem: their
differing views of human nature. Maurice sees people as objects to be
used: Carmen is "a piece of ass,“ the customers she attracts are "sans-
coeur," to be exploited for every penny they have. He does not perceive
anyone, himself included, as an individual with inner potential. Power
lies outside the self, to be seized and used for the domination of
others; self-mastery has no meaning for Maurice. Carmen, on the other
hand, realizes that her fans have internalized the definitions applied
to them by society, and believing their situation hopeless, have never
considered ways of improving their lives. The example of Bec-de-Lievre,
however, assures Carmen that she can help foster a sense of personal
worth. This is the first step in a process which brings release from
confinement and leads to a spontaneous, creative way of life.

Reflecting on Maurice's predictions that her fans will inevitably
disappoint, even abandon her, Carmen resolves to be so good that they
will always want more. Once she has explained this to Maurice, she
tells herself, "y va finir par comprendre, chus sure" (65). But she
realizes that she has taken a stand; whether or not she succeeds in

helping the people of the Main, she cannot return to the songs she used

to sing: "J'peux pus leur parler de mes fausses peines d'amour apres

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leur avoir chante leurs vrais malheurs!" (65). To give up now would
mean denying her faith in her fans' worth' and in their potential
achievements. Furthermore, her sense of self is too strong; she must
maintain her integrity, and she must continue to grow:
Pis viendra pout-etre un jour ou j's'rai pus obliges de me
deguiser en cow-girl pis de faire des yodles! Peut-étre que
petit e petit j'vas pouvoir abandonner tranquillement le
western pour me trouver un style a moe. Un style a moé! J'ai
commence avec 'des paroles des autres pis des musiques des
autres mais peut-etre que j'pourrais finir avec des paroles de
moe pis de la musique de moe! Aie! Monter sur le stage sans
sentir 1e besoin... de me deguiser! Aie! (66).
Carmen thus dreams of a quiet revolution during which she will cast off
her former disguise and find a style of her own. She does not know what
that style will be, but she looks forward to it as a process of self-
discovery which will strengthen her and make a genuine contribution to
the world in which she lives.

The choruses bring more news of the astonishing response to
Carmen's final song. Out on the street, everyone is singing it, they
say, "Meme les beus. Y savent pas au juste c'qu'y chantent, mais y
chantant!" (70). The song's lack of meaning to the "beus" calls
attention to the fact that Carmen's message is mainly intended for a
very specific group, male and female prostitutes, who all see themselves
as worthless, and turn to alcohol and cheap entertainment for temporary
escape from their degradation. As Carmen had told Maurice earlier, this
is the group which, if helped, ”arait envie d'etre quelqu'un qu'on
écoute pis qu'on respects au lieu d'etre une trainee qu'on viole pour
vingt piasses la nuit pis qu'on ignore 1e jour sauf de temps en temps

pour dire d'elle qu'on n'a honte pis qu'a merits pas de vivre!” (64).

These words apply to the Sandras as well as to the Rose Beefs.

192

Not surprisingly, then, the members of the chorus are the ones to
be most deeply touched by Carmen's song. 'J'chanterais de meme jusqu'a
la fin de mes jours," they exclaim (70). Just as Carmen had predicted,
people feel like singing, for they have discovered that the degrading
definitions imposed on them by others have no validity. They must
decide for themselves who they are and what they can do. As the street
empties, they remember that it is time for them to go to work, but
suddenly change their minds: "Oui, c'est ca,” they declare in unison,
“j'vas prendre conge! Tout le monde va feter, c'te nuitte!" (72). Bec-
de-Lievre, Rose Beef, and Sandra repeat these words as they urge Carmen
to join them in the celebration which is ready to begin, but Carmen will
not leave until she has showered and changed: "C'est pas la Star qui va
aller prendre un verre avec vous autres, c'est juste Carmen,” she tells
them (73). Twice gun shots have been heard only by the audience; the
three people with Carmen sense that she is in danger, but cannot explain
their apprehension. Carmen has apparently heard nothing, just as she has
not heard the warnings which were stated so plainly earlier by Tooth
Pick and Maurice.

When the others have left, Bec-de-Lievre begins her third and last
passage from the life of Carmen. It seems that on the day Carmen's
parents died, Carmen had gone to three westerns. As she left the
theatre, she saw Gloria, and asked her if she had ever thought of
singing western songs in French. Gloria replied--in English--that she
did not speak French. By the time Carmen reached home, she had decided
to try to talk to her mother, to tell her that she wanted to leave her
factory job and become a western singer. Upon learning that her parents

were dead, and that she was free to pursue her goal, Carmen rejoiced.

193

It was a sign from heaven, she told her sister, ”aujourd'hui est notre
jour de delivrance!' (74). Her words, repeated by the choruses, are
followed immediately by two more gunshots. Then Bec-de-Lievre
concludes: "Y parait... y parait qu'e l'enterrement de ses parents
Carmen avait l'air d'une mariee' (74).

Even as Bec-de-Lievre relates Carmen's discovery of her vocation,
the sound of shots leaves no doubt that Carmen is doomed. If she dies
now, will the Main's day of deliverance really come? The members of the
double chorus are already watching the horizon, waiting for the sun to
rise: 'Un jour de delivrance, ca se fait attendre longtemps, mais quand
ca se leve, watch out!” (75). But the first light they glimpse is
lightening; then they notice that the sky is growing cloudy. Suddenly
Tooth Pick comes rushing in to report 'un grand malheur." (75). "Le
soleil ne se levers pas,“ he announces (75). As he begins the story of
Carmen's death, the stage lights take on a yellowish cast and steadily
grow dimmer “comme si le double choeur s'eteignait peu a peu" (76).

Careful‘ to present himself as a friend of the Main, Tooth Pick
portrays Carmen as a fraud, a master of disguise who had deceived them
all, and who deserved to die. Carmen's singing had touched him deeply,
he begins, but when he looked for Carmen to congratulate her, he was
appalled to overhear Carmen screaming terrible insults at Bec-de-Lievre.
"Carmen ah! si vous l'avisz vue,“ he tells his listeners, "Carmen etait
tellement laide!" (77). Now that her success was assured, Carmen had
only contempt for Bec-de-Lievre, and for everyone else on the Main, as
well. To make his account more convincing, Tooth Pick pretends to
quote Carmen at length:

J'vous ai eus, toute la gang, hein, qu'a disait, Carmen, vous
avez toute pris c'que j'vous ai dit pour du cash! La, vous

194

vous etes mis dans'tete que vous pouviez vous en sortir,
j'suppose? J'pensais pas vous avoir aussi vite! Mais j'aime
mieux ca de meme! J'vas faire mon argent plus vite, pis j'vas
pouvoir sacrer mon camp plus vite! (78)
Repeatedly Tooth Pick emphasizes Carmen's scorn for her fans; she
laughed ”comme une folle“ to think of their credulity (78). Not only
had they believed her when she told them that they were "beaux," "fins,"
and "intelligents;" they had even thought they could lift themselves out
of their present situation. Then Carmen revealed what she really had in
mind:
Ecoute ben ca, Bec-de-Lievre: a partir de la semaine
prochaine, ca va couter 1e double pour venir m'entendre vous
faire accroire que vous allez vous en sortir! Vous allez
cracher, mes hosties, vous allez vous saigner a blanc pour
m'entendre chanter que vous etes beaux! Pis j'espere meme que
vous allez vous endetter pour m'entendre rire de vous autres!
Vous vous en sortirez jamais, Bec-de-Lievre, parce que vous
etes trop mous! (78-79).
Finally, Tooth Pick reports, Carmen said that she was sending Bec-de-
Lievre back to her job as lavatory attendant. It was then that Bec-de-
Lievre seized the gun which Maurice kept nearby, and fired the fatal
shots. Quietly the double chorus exclaims ”Ah!" and disappears from
sight as stage lights are completely extinguished (79).

Holding the gun at arm's length, Bec-de-Lievre enters slowly. Her
whole world has collapsed: "Quand Carmen est morte, assassinee par
Tooth Pick, y'a juste une p'tite lesbienne... innocents... qui est
restee e cete d'elle” (80). She does not resist as Tooth Pick takes the
gun from her.

Now in command of the situation, Tooth Pick tells Maurice that he
has once more done a job for him, thus increasing Maurice's indebtedness

to him. Tooth Pick, not Maurice, announces that the Rodeo will close

for a week, then reopen with Gloria back in her rightful place. When

 

 

 

 

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Tooth Pick has left, Maurice tells his sister: "Si tu vends Tooth Pick,
tu me vends” (81). There is a moment of silence; then, "au milieu de
criailleries, de hoquets, de borborygmes, de sons inarticules," Gloria
appears in garish stage lights (81). Above the sounds of the Latin
American music, "anemique et souffreteuse," only two words are audible:
"mi coracon."4
The final events seem to suggest that Carmen's efforts were futile,
and that the situation on the Main is hopeless. Tooth Pick has murdered
Carmen, discredited her memory, and replaced her with a singer whose
music is tasteless and trite. Who will defend her memory and sing her
song? Who will help the people of the Main? Not one of Carmen's fans
challenges Tooth Pick's statements, and Bec-de-Lievre, her hagiographer
in the past, is nearly speechless. She names the real murderer, but
does nothing to defend Carmen against the character assassination
already under way. Tooth Pick, not Bec-de-Lievre, now controls Carmen's
story, and is doing everything in his power to destroy her reputation.
Opening just months before the £§I£1_Qnéhé£213 was voted into
power, fiain;a_§azman did not reflect the general mood in Quebec, and the
pessimistic ending in particular is cited as a factor in the play's
initial failure. As director Andre Brassard later commented: "one had
the impression that Carmen's entire life, spirit, message were wiped out
by that ending."5 For the revised version, which was well accepted by
audiences, he transposed lines from Carmen's dialogue, and ended the
play on a more positive note. “Otherwise,” he explained, "we would have
ended in a kind of black hole."6 When Tremblay wrote the play, however,

he thought that the promise of the 60s had not been fulfilled. Thus

after Ma;1a;Laa, which showed Carmen's successful break with the past,

196

he wrote a sequel in which her attempt to exercise freedom soon led to a
dead end, as had the Quiet Revolution, in his opinion.7 The issue
relevent to the present discussion, however, is not Tremblay's judgment
of the Quiet Revolution, but rather the way in which he has depicted the
experience of freedom and the forces within society which oppose
freedom.

Carmen the singer is portrayed as an exceptional but believable
individual who achieves personal freedom despite her home environment
and the milieu in which she works. Only seven when she begins to
distinguish her experience of self from the self ascribed to her by her
mother, she is soon ready to take responsibility for her decisions.
Initially ignoring the hoodlum tactics of the man who is both her lover
and her employer, Carmen retains her individuality and independence, and
steadily continues to develop her talents as a singer. Nashville marks a
turning point: through a transcendent experience of beauty, truth, and
freedom, she gains a new perspective on her music and on her friends
along the Main. Fully conscious of her individuality and of the world
in which she lives, she actively defines her role in society. At last in
complete ”possession de soi,” she returns to Montreal eager to help her
fans make the same kind of progress. Their response to her songs
confirms her judgment and strengthens her resolve. She is Carmen the
sun; her songs have enlightened her listeners. Totally committed to the
people who need her help, she refuses to compromise her integrity or
that of her audience. But the Main is an authoritarian world where
those who have power defend it; Carmen must therefore die, a martyr to

her cause.

197

Through the double chorus, Tremblay gives powerful expression to a
people's rising hopes as they begin to realize that they possess inner
resources which, if developed, could transform their lives. Their
initial mood of festive anticipation becomes an exultant celebration of
release from definitions which had once seemed irrefutable and final.
They are free, not subject to fate, as they had believed. Then their
hopes vanish when they hear of Carmen's death; disappearing from sight,
they make their presence known only through inarticulate sounds heard in
the background. Their loss of speech implies that they are no longer
human, no longer capable of thought, choice, or freedom. Once again
worthless ”no-goods," drunks, and dope addicts, they will be easy prey
for Maurice and Tooth Pick. Already forgotten, will Carmen the martyr
become a saint?

Carmen's death is consistent with what we know about her and her
assassin, but while we might expect her fans to be in a state of
complete despair, Tremblay goes too far in portraying the entire group
as still unable to voice a coherent thought when the Rodeo reopens a
week after her death. To do this is to deny their basic humanity-~which
is what the play has until then so effectively demonstrated. Although
inconsistent with what preceded it, the final scene is too sketchy to
invalidate the powerful and insightful portrayal of Carmen's freedom and
her fans' first awareness of their individuality. fiain§a__ga;maa also
contains a forceful reminder that while the artist may have an important
role in bringing about a people's "prise de conscience,“ this experience

is only a first step toward "possession de 301" and freedom.

Notes

1 Renate Usmiani, Miaha1__11amb1ay (Vancouver: Douglas and Mc
Intyre, 1982) 114.
2 Michel Tremblay, Sa1n§a_§a:man_aa_1a__uain (Montreal: Leméac,

1976) 14. All further references will be contained within the text.
3 Andre Brassard, interview in LLEE!§I§.QE.§§£2I 10.7 (mai-juin

1978): 5, quoted by Usmiani in Miaha1_11amh1ay l8.

4 "Coracon' is presumably the way Gloria spells "corazen."

5 Andre Brassard, interview, "Discovering the Nuances,” by Renate

Usmiani, Qanaflian_1haa§ax_na21ag 24 (Fall 1979): 39-40.

6 Brassard, interview by Usmiani 40.

7 s“ Usmiani, W 110-111. .

198

W: Body and Soul.
Playwright and Novelist

Damnaa_nanan_aaa;aa_§ana;a opened February 24, 1977, bringing back

to the stage two familiar figures: Manon, Carmen's younger sister in
MaxiaaLag, and Sandra, the transvestite chorus leader in Sala§a__ga;maa.
Now neighbors on rue Fabre, Sandra and Manon devote their lives to
their respective obsessions, sex and religion, but their needs prove to
be surprisingly similar in this playful and often bawdy treatment of
Quebec's dualist heritage. Even the title provides a context which
transforms the traditional dichotomy ”damnee/sacree" into synonyms. Then
in the play's closing lines, attention is drawn from the characters to
the playwright as Manon announces that she was "invented by Michel;"
Sandra too declares that he was invented.1 Once thought to mark "la fin
de Manon et la fin du monde de Michel Tremblay,” this ambiguous finale
now appears to have signaled not an end, but renewal.2

The many .contrasts between Manon and Sandra give the play its
drama, while the plot, if it may be called that, brings out the
similarities between the two protagonists. At first, however, only
their differences are obvious. On one side of the stage, the pious
Manon, dressed in black, sits in a rocking chair in a corner of her
white kitchen. Sandra, a transvestite prostitute, is wearing white; he
lives near Manon in a black "loge" not unlike an actor's dressing room
(27). As they talk to themselves, they state the basic assumptions on
which they have built their lives. "La solution a toute... c'est 1e bon

199

200

Dieu," asserts Manon, while Sandra announces with equal conviction: "Y'a
pas de qui, y'a pas de quand, de ou, de pourquoi, la reponse c'est
toujours 1e cul” (27). After discussing their differing value systems,
they conclude in unison: "Des fois j'me demands a quoi j'pouvais ben
penser avant de penser a gal J'm'en rappelle pus... j'tais trop petite!”
(30-31). This introduction is followed by a series of alternating
monologues ('confessions,” as they are called in the text) in which
Sandra and Manon discuss their day's activities, showing that they both
experience a combination of sexual and spiritual needs, but cannot
explain what accounts for their feelings of dissatisfaction (31).
Hanan

During the introductory exchange of remarks, Manon describes her
relationship to God as personal and intimate, the result of meditation
rather than formal instruction or study. ”J'me sus rendus compte par
nee-meme que c'est vrai que le bon Dieu exists, ” she declares (29).
Then in a five-part monologue, she talks about her experiences that
morning, revealing her efforts to satisfy unacknowledged physical
desires and yet maintain her self-image as a saintly woman with a
special calling in life. Manon is, of course, Catholic, but her
religious experiences are not mediated by the clergy or formal church
services. They are instead the result of a life of private prayer and
devotion, a way of life inspired by her mother, Marie-Louise. At one
time Manon had hoped to become a nun, but that was not to be her
destiny. Speaking directly to God, Manon recalls: "Vous m'avez dit
vous-meme en dedans de moe, vous m'avez doucement mais fermement murmuré
a l'oreille que ma place etait (...) icitte! A la place de ma mere,

dans la chaise bercante de ma mere, dans le lit de ma mere, dans la Vie

201

de ma mere... Vous avez exige de moe que je perpetue ma mere qui etait
une sainte" (57). Manon's prayers are now the central experience of her
life, but she has begun to notice that she no longer feels God's
presence as she once did. The problem, she decides, is her rosary:
”Chus tannee des petits chapelets cheap qui pesent rien pis qui ont
l'air de rien, j'ai pus l'impression de prier quand j'les ai dans les
mains" (31). To solve this problem, she goes shopping for a rosary which
will lend greater substance and weight to her religious life.

A large rosary obviously meant for institutional use immediately
catches Manon's attention, and as soon as she touches it, she knows that
it is special: "Quand j'y ai touche, 1e... meme si y'est pas benit,
c'est drele, hein, mais quand j'y ai touche j'ai senti comme quequ'chose
de vivant, dedans... Y'etait ... chaud. (Silence.) Les grains sont gros
comme la moitie de mon poing... pis quand on an prend quatre ou cinq
dans nos mains... c'est pesant, pis chaud, pis vivant” (33). She tells
the saleswoman that she must have it, regardless of the price: "J'le
veux. Tu-suite. J'en ai de besoin" (33-34). As she unhooks it from the
wall, she again notices its weight. "C'est peut-etre la presence du bon
Dieu qui est si pesant," she thinks, and holding it in her arms feels
inexplicably happy (34).

To give her life meaning, Manon interprets everything that happens
to her from the perspective of Biblical history and Church doctrine.
Unable to admit that her happiness results from the sensuous pleasure
she derives from the rosary, Manon begins to feel guilty. On her way
home, noticing a discarded missal in a trash barrel, she interprets it
as a sign that she should "sacrifice" her new purchase. Protesting to

God that His demands are excessive, Manon nonetheless puts the rosary

202

into the garbage can with the missal, only to be ridiculed by a passing
child. She thereupon retrieves her rosary and runs home, where she
locks the door, closes the blinds, and through prayer attempts to
reconcile her behavior with her self-image.

Placing the rosary at the feet of a life-sized statue of the
Virgin, Manon complains: "Votre Fils m'en demande vraiment trop," and
begs the Virgin to intercede in her favor (43). Manon then touches each
bead of her new rosary; by the time she finishes, she is convinced that
"la Vierge Marie avait tout arrange avec son Fils' (43). Next she
touches the crucifix, and finds it warm with “la chaleur du bon Dieu,
pas celle du Diable,‘ a sign that she has indeed been forgiven (43).

Suddenly, however, she is overcome by a different feeling:

J'ai senti comme un besoin... j'ai senti un besoin effrayant
de l'embrasser... (Silence.) J'comprenais pas... J'avais la
croix dans les mains, pis... (Silence.) Tout d'un coup j'me

sus mis a embrasser 1e corps de Notre-Seigneur comme 31 ca
avait ete la derniers affairs que je ferais dans ma vie!
J'tais sfire que j'etais pour mourir... foudroyee, apres! La
joie! La joie pure! J'avais comme des boules de bonheur qui
m'eclataient dans le coeur pis j'avais de la misere a
respirer! (43-44).
Remembering how God had tested Abraham, Manon decides that God had been
testing her, too, and because she had been willing to sacrifice her most
precious possession, her new rosary, God is pleased with her. Having
temporarily explained away a profoundly disturbing experience, Manon
then falls asleep.
Having been deeply influenced by dualist teachings, Manon thinks
that to gratify the senses is to risk corruption, and cannot help but
suspect that her pleasure in handling her rosary is somehow sinful.

However, alone in the dim and artificial light of her bedroom, she

addresses the Virgin freely, without mentioning what really troubles

203

her, and soon feels forgiven and returned to favor with God. Her
silences as she relates her ecstatic experience of kissing the crucifix
suggest that she now perceives the erotic element, but cannot admit it.
Turning to the Bible, she finds a way to justify her behavior and cover
up the physicality which she believes is evil.

Successful though her conscious efforts may be in repressing
feelings which frighten her, Manon is forced to admit that she cannot
control what happens when she is asleep, and, she declares, "des
affaires qu'on peut pas contreler, c'est mauvais" (49). Despite her
desire to forget the dream she had that morning, she can forget neither
the dream nor the memories which it evoked of Helene and her young
cousin Michel, who was Manon's favorite childhood playmate. Helene, she
recalls, 'est-tait ben belle, mais a faisait peur, comme un ange dechu
(...) que le bon Dieu nous avait envoye pour nous rappeler que l'enfer
existe, pis que des fois y'est pas ben loin” (49). Once Helene had
terrified Manon by appearing in green lipstick and fingernail polish,
and had laughed as Manon ran home screaming, "Le diable! Le diable!
J'ai vu 1e diable!" (49-50). Agreeing, Marie-Louise had knelt with her
daughter, and together "on avait prie le bon Dieu pour qu'y nous en
debarrasse au plus sacrant!” (50). Another day, when Manon and Michel
were playing together, Helene had warned them to avoid the balcony
because 'y pourrait vous venir l'envie de vous glisser en-dessous pour
aller jouer aux fesses comme on l'a toutes faite a votre Age" (50).
"Demons,” Manon exclaims, "Demons!” (50). At this point in the play,
since Sandra has already talked about his cousin Helene and her green
make-up, the audience realizes that Sandra was once the little Michel

whom Manon remembers with such affection.

204

In Manon's dream, the Virgin Mary was wearing green make-up; her
smile was sweet, but her laughter echoed Helene's demonic laugh. Even
more shocking was the obscene way the Virgin handled the rosary beads.
Although Manon cried out "Vade, retro, Satanas," the painted figure
carresed her as she had carressed the body on the crucifix (51). "C'est
laid! C'est peche! C'est sale! C'est pas comme ca que j'le fais,
moé,“ Manon protested (51). Then the statue underwent a second
transformation. ”Chus t'habille comme eux autres, mais c'est moé," the
figure said, and for a moment Manon held Michel tightly in her arms
(52). Then releasing him, she asked why he had followed his corrupt
cousin. “Regards ce que t'es d'venu,” she exclaimed, 'Un degenere!"
(52).

This dream is more than Manon can bear. After a moment of silence,
she addresses God, angrily objecting to all that has happened to her
that day:

Pourquoi vous remettez sur mon chemin c'te p'tit gars-1a que

j'aimais tant pis qui a suivi sa cousins folle dans son enfer!

Pourquoi vous m'avez pas envoye un reve rempli de 2251a

presence plutet que cells de l'autre! Pourquoi ses caresses

m'ont tellement faite de bien! C'est e vous que j'ai sacrifie

ma vie! Touts ma vie! Touts ma vie! (Author's emphasis, 52)
Reminding God that she believes in Him because He is good, she then
accuses Him of sending her a bad dream and making her commit a sin while
she slept and could not defend herself. Then after a pause, she asks to
be forgiven, adding ”Rsprenez-moe. Reprenez-moe. Dans votre sein"
(53).

Manon tells little about Michel except that they were born the same
day and were apparently kindred spirits until, as Manon sees it, he

followed his cousin into a life of sin, at puberty, no doubt. Until

then, her love for Michel was spontaneous and unreserved; there was no

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self-consciousness and nothing to fear or repress in her relationship
with him. But she was afraid of Helene, who had a reputation as a
demon, and whose bold, unconventional make-up seemed a sure sign that
she was indeed the devil. Marie-Louise then reinforced Manon's ignorance
and fear, and taught her to use prayer to call on God to punish the
disobedient and avenge the injury done to those who in their complete
submission to God's will have no power of their own.

What frightened Manon the most, however, was Helens's casual
warning not to "play doctor“ under the balcony. Helene obviously saw it
as part of growing up, but Manon.believed that such behavior was wicked.
Following her mother's example, she turned to prayer, not to help her
accept her physical nature, but to help her repress it. Nevertheless,
although she says that what she experienced in her dream was ”bad," she
acknowledges her pleasure, and although she blames God for letting it
happen to her, she finally assumes a certain responsibility as she asks
to be forgiven. But she cannot come to terms with her sexuality as an
acceptable part of her self, and so pursues her goal of isolating her
spirit from the body's sinful influence.

In the fourth part of her monologue, Manon talks to God about her
obedience, her weaknesses, and her needs. She also talks about her
expectations, for she believes that God too has obligations. Lately she
has noticed that God has come to her less often, and when He does, she
must concentrate in order to feel His presence. "Avant, j'avais juste a
penser a vous pis votre vent m'emportait," she recalls; "Vous etiez la
tu-suite pis on se mettait a flotter tous les deux en souriant" (57).
Manon's sister Carmen, in describing her singing, had also spoken of

being lifted up as if by the wind, but she had been challenged to master

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her music rather than let herself be carried away by it. Although
claiming to have learned by being in God's presence, Manon describes her
behavior as largely passive: "Les journees completes qu'on a passees
ensemble entre ciel et terre, vous me racontant le Monde de facon a ce
que js 1e comprenne pis que je pardonne, moe vous ecoutant au bord de
l'evanouissement' (58). Manon does not say what she understood and
forgave; her feeling of euphoria was clearly more important to her.
Carmen, on the other hand, gained a new perspective, and understanding
herself and others more clearly, had decided that she could help change
things which she thought were unpardonable. Thus while both women
describe experiences which lift them out of their everyday existence,
Carmen's experience sharpens her awareness of self and world, while
Manon's reduces her critical faculties and sense of self.

Having entered easily into this euphoric state of bliss for years,
Manon now expects it. "J'ai droit e mes jouissances! J'y ai droit!
Chus t'habitues, astheur,“ she protests (58). Admitting that she is
close to blasphemy, she nevertheless insists that she desperately needs
to feel God's presence; if she is abandoned, she will be lost. The
Devil is not far away, she warns, and would be easy to find. Reminding
God that He alone controls her destiny, she tells Him:

Vous devez savoir aussi ben que moe qu'y'a une partie de moe
qui demande pas mieux que de ss jetter dans le Grand Vide la

tete 1a premiere! Choisisssz! C'est a vous de choisir! Moe,
j'me laisse aller. C'est toujours vous qui a faite les choix,

continuez! C'est toujours vous qui a pris ma destinee en
mains ben je vous le dis une fois pour toutes: c'est votre
responsabilite! J'me lave les mains ds toute responsabilite

pis si j'me perds, c'est vous qui me psrds! (59).
There is a long silence, and then, smiling, Manon announces that she
feels God approaching: "Haaa... oui... Prenez-moe par la main.

Emmensz-moe..." (59).

207

Manon's naive and unself-conscious conversation with God shows to
what extent she uses her religious life as an escape from
responsibility. Feeling entitled to her “jouissances,” she wants to
rise painlessly above the world where she feels out of place. If God
will not help her, she will turn herself over to the Devil, who also has
the power to control people's lives. Manon has stifled her
individuality so long that she has become incapable of directing life
for herself. Nevertheless, although she asks God to take charge of her
life, she fully expects God to listen to her, and also considers herself
free to choose between good and evil.
In the final portion of her monologue, Manon describes the free-
floating experience of ecstasy which she had been waiting for:
Ma tete a des ailes! J'ai l'esprit comme uns cage a moineaux
avec les portes ouvertes! Toutes mes idees sortent de moe en
meme temps! Comme des oiseaux qu'on libere. Touts coule en
dehors de moe! J'me vide! J'detruis toute sur mon passage!
Mes pensees pulverisent la rue Fabre pis je reste deboute au
milieu des ruines comme un jet d'eau! Chus les chutes
Niagara! (64).

Having "found her wings,” Manon next describes her sensation of soaring

in God's shadow, where, protected from sunlight, she can savor the light

of God which leads her to the truth:
Seule votre Lumiere e Vous, qui se goute dans le noir le plus
profond, dans les tenebres les plus secretes, qui dechire
l'eme a grand coups de sabre, qui pourfend l'oeil, 1e fait
eclater, l'ouvre et ressuscite, seule votre Lumiere qui mord
1a peau pis qui laisse des traces comme des blessures, seule
votre Lumiere qui fait sxploser 1a Vérité, la seule Vérite,
Votre Vérite, seule votre Lumiere a Vous est la bonne! La
seule possible. (64).

Begging for an even more intense experience, Manon cries: "Plus
haut! Ecrasez-moe sous votre poids, faites de moe une chose difforme,

bancale, mais sainte" (65). Then sensing God's withdrawal, she pleads:

"Laissez-moe pas comme ca au milieu du vide j'ai l'impression de pas

208

exister!" (65). At this point Tremblay introduces the first hint of the
way he intends to conclude the play, for Manon adds: "j'ai l'impression
d'exister juste dans la tete de quelqu'un d'autre" (65). Moreover, she
says, if God lets her fall back to earth, she will have green lips and
nails. ”Aidez-moe e renier mon corps! Le plus longtemps possible!" she
cries, protesting: "Que c'est que j'ai faite pour etre punie de meme!"
(65). Manon's final confession of faith is similar, but not identical,
to her statement at the beginning of the play:
R'prenez-moe avec vous, vous etes la seule chose qui me reste
dans'vie! Vous etes la reponse e toute... dans ma vie! J'ai
tue 1e douts... y me reste rien que la Foi! Y me reste juste
les recompenses que me prodigue ma Foi en Vous! Y me rests
juste les recompenses que je me prodigue a moe-mems dans ma
Foi en Vous! J'crois en vous! Croyez donc en moe! (65).
The sentence which concludes the above speech is a confession of a
different sort, and will be introduced later in relation to Sandra's
monologue.

Manon's description of her mystical flight begins with a rush of
images which suggest her illusion of great freedom and power. Rising
above rue Fabre and the world which had confined her, she enters a holy
realm where God's dazzling light reveals His truth in an experience of
intense physical sensations which tear her apart and then make her
whole. She gains no knowledge or insight; in fact, God does not even
appear to speak to her, but because she feels that God is present, she
can take pure pleasure in her physical being. If God abandons her,
Manon will find herself once again on rue Fabre, where such physical
sensations are thought sinful, and where her green lips and nails are an

outward sign of her inner corruption. Manon's mystical experiences are

therefore essentially physical, but disguised to eliminate conflict with

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her self-image as a pious daughter devoted to "perpetuating" her saintly
mother.

The audience is now in a position to understand Manon's first
words: ”La solution a toute...c'est 1e bon Dieu" (27). Believing that
only God is good, Manon has gladly relinquished her will and freedom to
make her own decisions; God will direct her and save her from sin.
And because in God's presence, orgasm becomes a mystical and holy
experience, the issue of sinful sexuality is resolved.

Sandra

In the opening lines in the play, Sandra declares sex to be the
answer to all of life's questions. Soon, however, he qualifies his
statement, saying that he does not know the "pourquoi” of anything, nor
does he want to (28). ”Pourquoi te demander pourquoi," he asks himself,
"C'est niaiseux. Surtout quand t'as le cul pour t'empecher d'y penser“
(28). And while some partners are more desirable than others, ultimately
sex is the only thing that makes his life worth living.

As he begins his monologue, Sandra recalls that the first activity
of the day was to review his physical assets. Although he found himself
desirable, he remembers that he did not feel entirely satisfied: "C'est
ben beau tout ca mais des fois en se reveillant, hein, on a beau se
trouver potable on sent comme un creux dans l'estomac... Y'a comme... de
l'insatisfaction dans l'air" (37). Then while studying himself in the
mirror, he was reminded of the green make-up his cousin Helene had once
used. Acting on impulse, he bought some, and now, although his original
enthusiasm has waned, he has decided to "(s)e beurrer le kisser pis les
ongles avec d'la marde verte," if only to see the reaction of Christian,

his black lover from Martinique (40).

 

fr

51

Sa

t!

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In style and subject matter, Sandra could hardly be more different
from Manon. Whether describing his ”super-duper quequette queen size et
si tant belle," or imitiating the accent of his "Mawtiniquais" lover,
Sandra proves to be a witty and uninhibited narrator (37,39). Never at
a loss for words, he is also not afraid to use them, however offensive
they might seem to his listeners. But the fact remains that his reason
for buying green make-up is the same as Manon's reason for buying her
wine-red rosary: they are both dissatisfied with life as it is now, and
want to experience it more fully.

First Sandra thinks about how he will look in green lipstick; then
he imagines using it to write on his lover's back. One idea leads to
another until he envisions writing his own Bible: ”J'vas écrire un
livre pornographique sur son corps. Ma Bible e moe. La Genese selon
Sandra la Martienne! Le Pentateuque, le Cantique des cantiques,
l'Ancien Testament pis le Nouveau Testament selon Sandra-la-verts! Pis
surtout, l'Apocalypse selon moel' (46). Once his Bible is written, he
will smear the words to keep the message for himself; then wrapping
Christian in a sheet, he will preserve 'une empreinte verte du premier
Dieu Noir' (47). On second thought, he decides to mummify Christian, as
well as lovers who succeed him; he wants to be their last partner.
"Chus tannée d'etre pour eux autres c'qu'y sont pour moe: une parmi tant
d'autres. Un numero! Une botte trois etoiles, ou deux etoiles, ou une
etoile' (47). Sandra laughs, thinking of the uses he might make of his
preserved lovers, but becomes serious again as he weighs the humiliation
of "les viols-minute de speedy Christian" against the pleasure he takes
merely in looking at his lover's beautiful body (48). Resigning himself

to Christian's eventual departure, he murmurs: "Ca fait que... Next!

211

Au suivant!” (48). Rather than analyze the situation, he resumes his
usual ironic tone, observing that green is- associated with certain
venerial diseases. "Mon Dieu,” he exclaims, ”mon chum s'en vient pis
chus deguisee en dose!” (48).

At one level, Sandra's behavior is a mirror image of Manon's: he
begins by imagining erotic uses for his green lipstick and ends by
imagining a sacred use, while she first treats her rosary as sacred and
then derives erotic pleasure from it. But although Sandra says he is
writing his personal Bible, it has less to do with the ”religion" of sex
than with feelings of loneliness and isolation, and with his
disappointments over relationships which provide only physical
gratification. At the beginning of the play, Sandra had said that he
did not know the ”why" of anything, and that sex helped keep him from
thinking about it. It comes as no surprise, therefore, that the words he
imagines writing are smeared to leave a mark, but offer no message of
enduring wisdom. At best they symbolize a moment of ecstasy, an
experience which leaves the I'why's" in his life still unanswered.
Instead of being an unending source of satisfaction, his sexual
activities are beginning to seem mechanical. He does not remember his
individual lovers, and knows that he too is equally faceless, one among
many, rated by his partners according to his performance, but having no
lasting presence for them. Although he dreams of touching their lives
in some permanent way, his fantasy of mummifying his lovers is an
indirect admission that his way of life, despite its short-term
pleasures, is esentially dehumanizing. As usual, Sandra turns his
thoughts to disguise, for playing a role allows him to be someone else.

Only then can he forget that he does not exist.

212

In the third section of his monologue, Sandra describes his
thoughts and feelings as he progresses from an acute awareness of non-
existence to the adoption of a temporary role. Before deciding "who he
will be“ that evening, Sandra yields to a familiar impulse: he studies
himself in the mirror hoping to discover "who he is." Although he
scrutinizes his image with care, he finds no vestige of a recognizable
self. His findings are more disturbing than he is willing to admit:

J'ai l'honneur de declarer officiellement qu'y reste pus
aucune trace de l'homme que j'ai ete. Rien! J'ai eu beau
chercher, fouiller, scruter... j'me sus pas trouve. Mon
visage a moe exists pus. Y'a completement disparu sous les
tonnes de maquillages que j'y ai faite subir, y'a disparu
derriere les dizaines, les centaines d'autres visages que j'ai
dessines e sa place“ (53-54).
In fact, he continues, 'J'existe pus” (54). Then amending his
statement, he adds: "la seule chose que j'ai jamais deguisee... eh oui,
c'est ma queue" (54). Everything else about him, he says, was invented
to attract 'les mills victimes convoitees par (s)a queue aux appetits
voraces et aux instincts feroces' (54). Declaring that he is not a
woman by choice but by necessity, he calls himself a slave to sex, a
slave to his senses. He does not live except when he is engaged in some
aspect of sexual activity.

In this portion of his monologue, Sandra reports but does not
explain his lack of self. Instead, he turns to his mirror as a guide in
creating new disguises, and uses his imagination to furnish excuses for
having betrayed the man he was, but is no more. But while the sight of
his nude body may reassure him that he possesses male sexual organs, the
fact remains that he does not really possess his body -- he prostitutes

it. He has chosen a way of life which limits the meaningful expression

of sexuality, and has interferred with his development as a complete,

213

unified human being. By exaggerating the force of his "appetits
voraces” and his "instincts féroces,“ he tries to conceal his
fundamental weakness and lack of will.
After rationalizing his role-playing, Sandra then announces his
next disguise:
En faisant mon premier doigt, t'a l'heure, j'ai trouve ls

visage que la changeante Sandra va porter a soir: j'ai decide
que ce serait la Vierge Marie elle-meme qui recsvrait un

Martiniquais dans son lit, cette nuit! Un rels nouveau. Une
nouvelle composition. Notre Mere e tous. Jousr ls rele ds
notre Mere a tous dans les bras de la Race montante. Se

soumettre au Noir en lui cedant, en lui sacrifiant l'image la

plus pure, la plus sacres ds notre civilisation degeneree

(55).
Sacrilsgious though they may be, Sandra's comments reveal some
unsuspected values as well as profound despair. Briefly he imagines a
Mary who willingly receives lovers from every race; rather than ‘being
deflied by her behavior, she is ennobled as "Notre mere a tous.” Hsr
holiness is centered in her loving acceptance of all men, and in her
universal motherhood, which guarantees the unity of the human family.
But such ideals cannot be realized; love is an illusion, unobtainable on
earth, where nothing exists, he thinks cynically, unless it can be
bought and sold.

Turning from what the Virgin represents to how the Virgin is
represented, Sandra decides to model his appearance on the status which
Manon bought after a fire in the parish church. Like Claude Lemieux,
who became Hosanna and then imitated Elizabeth Taylor in her role as
Cleopatra, Michel as Sandra imagines imitating not the Virgin, but a
statue of the Virgin, a second-hand one, at that. That he is aware of

his dehumanization is obvious from the way he imagines the sex act which

would be in keeping with his role: "C'est une statue de la Vierge Marie

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achetes dans une vents de feu qui va ss fairs enculer a soir par la
gigantesque pine du Martiniquais victorieux!" (55). Forgotten is the
earlier image of loving acceptance; instead he sees himself standing in
the rigid, upright posture of the status, with a frozen smile (but
green!) and a fixed, blank stare. He will be “Saints Sandra la Verte
de la Vents de Feu,” he exclaims, summing up the grotesque image which
he has imagined for himself (56). Then he concludes the third section
of his monologue with a sober, even bitter, admission of failure: ”Je
suis l'Immenculee Conception! Pis c'est a soir que le Moineau Noir de
l'Esprit Saint va venir me 'visiter... pour m'apporter la Grande
Nouvelle! Pis la Grande Nouvelle c'est que le Nouveau Messie va etre un
enfant ben faible! (56). These words leave no doubt that he understands
only too well the meaning of prostitution, and realizes the futility and
emptiness of the roles which he has created as a substitute for self.

In the final portion of his monologue, Sandra talks about his place
in the neighborhood. His presence will not go unnoticed when he appears
on the balcony to wait for Christian: ”J'vas continuer mon numero,
perpetuer mon rele de travesti drels pour les voisinss qui doivent deja
m'attendrs en se demandant que c'est que j'vas leur sortir aujourd'hui"
(60). Despite the variety of his costumes, Sandra finds his routines
dull and more than a little absurd, but he knows that he is responsible
for his present way of life. In this he is different from the hallaa;
aaaaza, for instance, and from his Aunt Robertine, whose philosophy of
resignation was contained in the word ”continuer.“ He also realizes that
in perpetuating his role as an amusing transvestite he is betraying his
individuality; such a thought would never occur to Manon, who believes

that she can accomplish nothing more worthwhile than to "perpetuate her

215

mother.” Nevertheless, Sandra's insight does not help free him from the
role which condemns him to perpetual disguise.

True to his motto of "pas de pourquoi," Sandra never explains why
he returned to rue Fabre, but the opportunity to rent an apartment
across from the house where he grew up was, he says, ”Un signal du Ciel"
(60). “Pis... depuis ce temps-la je regarde a nouvsau la rue Fabre
vivre. J'me sus remis a ma techs,“ he remarks (60). As he watches the
children play, it seems to him that little has changed:

J'ai souvent l'impression de voir ma gang jouer dans'ruells...
pendant qu'une voisins avec qui j'ai joue aux fesses y'a un
quart de siecle tricote e cete de moe en me racontant c'que
j'sais quasiment mieux qu'elle sur son enfance qui est par le
fait meme la mienne: nos jeux, nos joiss, notre grand bonheur
d'etre petits pendant les années cinquants et bruyants st
Maitrss du Monds! (61)

But the child who was part of the happy neighborhood gang has
become Sandra, who dares not identify himself as Michel, and who
therefore cannot claim his place in that happy past. He does not
belong. True, the women confide in him as they did when they were girls,
but now' they say that he understands them because he is homosexual;
before they said it was because he took the time to listen. He would
like to tell them who he is, remind them that he was the leader of the
gang, the one who organized picnics, the one who played Batman to
frighten them, the one who pretended to be brave when he was afraid.
Then he comments: ”J'jouais au brave pis vous pensiez que j'tais brave;
j'joue aux femmes, pis vous pensez que chus dss femmes! J'vous ai
toujours possedes e contretemps mais si vous saviez... si vous saviez
comme j'vous aims!" (62). He knows, however, that he will never say

this. To express personal feelings and treat them as important would

invalidate his basic premise that sex is everything in life. Moreover,

216

he has repressed his individuality so long that he has lost his
spontaneity, he cannot speak to his friends from his heart.

There is, however, one childhood friend he has not spoken to at
all: “Manon, ma soeur... ma jumells... (...) a qui j'ai donne toute la
passion dont j'etais capable (...) Manon, mon antithese, ma contraire
(62). When he first saw her, he wanted to take her in his arms and ask
about her, but he did not. ”Ma seule presence la tusrait," he declares,
”Chus la negation de sa vie. (Silence.) De sa Foi“ (63). From what he
hears, however, he is convinced that she is happy. He takes comfort in
looking at her lowered blind, where a light can sometimes be seen
between the metal slats, "les barreaux de sa prison" (63). The
flickering light, "Une lumiers de Ciel qui s'etsint pis d'Enfer qui
s'attise,” tells him that Manon has left on "un de ses longs voyages
vers le jour” (63). Her happiness reassures him about everything in
life, and, he concludes, 'Si Manon avait pas existe, je l'aurais
inventee' (63).

In this final portion of his monologue, Sandra speaks with love and
understanding. He recognizes that he and Manon share a common heritage.
As children, their spontaneous affection for each other united them, and
although they had been born of different mothers, they were twins. But
as they matured, they both stifled important aspects of their
personality, and now are confined by habits which make completeness and
fulfillment impossible. Nevertheless, Sandra can see past the
differences which separate him from Manon, and still recognizes and
loves her as his twin. The only way he has of expressing his love is to
permit Manon to live undisturbed in her dream world. Surely he has no

illusions about the narrowness and aridity of her life, but although he

217

has been watching her ”sechsr comme un raisin sec" for two years now, he
says: "J'ai trouve quelqu'un de vraiment heureux a regarder vivre sa
petite vie heureuse de souris heureuse au milieu du decor de mon enfance
heureuse" (62, 63). Sandra takes comfort in thinking that happiness is
possible, even though it is dependent on withdrawal from society and
denial of self.

Only at the play's conclusion does Sandra address Manon directly.
She has- declared her faith in God, and asks God to believe in her,
"Meme... si...j'ai... ete... inventes... par... Michel,” she adds (65).
Crying "Vas-y Manon... monte," Sandra lends his support (65). He
understands her desire for perfect joy:

Continue... jusqu'au bouts! Va jusqu'au bouts de ton voyage!
Monte! Monte! Monte! Pis tire-moe avec toe! J'veux partir!
(Elle hurls.) Amene-moe avec toe parce que moe non plus
j'existe pas! Moe aussi j'ai ete inventee! R'garde, Manon!
R'garde! Sa Lumiere s'en vient! (66).
According to the stage directions, Sandra's final speech is followed by
an intense light which lasts five seconds. The dazzling light suggests
the joy of body and soul united at last to form a single, complete
being. But the characters' words tell another story: Manon and Sandra
are mere inventions, brought together in a moment of ecstasy only in
their creator's imagination.

In their parallel lives, Manon and Sandra complement each other as
red complements green. Influenced by her mother, who equated sex with
sin, Manon, a black figure on a white background, has tried to repress
her sexuality, while Sandra, a white figure on a black background, has
chosen to express sexuality as fully as possible. Incomplete and

dependent, they think of each other and remember the time when nothing

divided them. But convinced that sex and religion are separate, they

218

remain apart. The joy of their reunion is invented by Michel, who
apparently believes that if sex and religion were not imagined to be in
conflict, they would complement each other, and together be a source of
human happiness.

The finale also confirms what the spectators have no doubt been
suspecting: the play contains not two, but three, "confessions.” Manon
and Sandra confess that neither religion alone nor sex alone is enough
to make life complete. Tremblay's confession, found in Sandra's fourth
monologue, suggests that one genre alone, theatre, does not completely
satisfy his needs as an artist.

Earlier in his career, Tremblay had said that he did not discuss
personal matters through his characters.3 In Hanan, however, he makes
his presence felt through Sandra/Michel, whose happy childhood on rue
Fabre during the 1950s resembles his own. Therefore, when Sandra begins
to reflect on his relationship to his public, ”les voisinss qui doivent
deje m'attendrs en se demandant que c'est que j'vas leur sortir
aujourd'hui,“ he introduces issues which apply equally to Tremblay
himself. Sandra knows that his reputation sets him apart. Although he
has made friends with most of his neighbors, he is accepted, not as an
individual, but as 'un travesti drele” who understands women because he
is a ”tapette" (60, 62). They do not know that he is Michel, their
childhood playmate, nor do they recognize, as they once did, that he
understands them because he takes the time to listen to their problems.
Tremblay too, in print and on television, has acknowledged his
homosexuality, and undoubtedly has sometimes felt unfairly defined and

judged because of it.4

219

Like Sandra, who wants to tell his former playmates how much he
loves them, but cannot abandon his role to reveal personal feelings,
Tremblay also wants to express himself more directly than is possible as
a playwright. He is not the characters he creates, their words are
never entirely his, and the roles are always subject to the
interpretation of those who perform the play. In theatre, the author and
actor are secondary to the illusion they create. Although Tremblay has
used theatrical endings before, in this case, after calling attention to
the play as fiction, he identifies Michel as the inventor, the creator
who is free to change and grow, in contrast to Manon and Sandra, who are

fixed by their roles.

fiain;a__§aznan records Carmen's liberation as an artist and as an
individual, and conveys her fans' exhilaration as they listen to her
message of hope. The play also depicts an establishment above the law,
led by unscrupulous men (the name Maurice is not without significance)
who have the power to destroy Carmen and her message with impunity.
Nevertheless, Tremblay's first heroine, a figure of artistic integrity
and symbol of hope for a dispossessed people, is vanquished too easily,
and her listeners are reduced to inarticulate despair, as if she had
never lived. As a result, the play is seriously weakened. Although

5

praised for its composition, this work about an artist's liberation

and perfect communication did not enable Tremblay to communicate
successfully with his audiences, and its short life was a great

disappointment to him.6

220

In the next play, Tremblay treats his characters' "soif d'absolu"
in a distinctly ironic fashion. Sympathetic to Manon's quest for
sainthood, he nevertheless shows her bliss to be an illusion, and
suggests through Sandra/Michel that friendship and shared memories might
be a greater source of happiness than endless role-playing which
ultimately sffaces the self. Calling Hanan, "1e point final" of the
fiallaa;aaan;a cycle, Tremblay announced in 1977 that he wanted to write
a novel, and had, in fact, nearly finished the research.7 The novel
developed into a series which was set on the Plateau Mont-Royal, in the
neighborhood where he grew up, and which emphasized the background of
the characters who had appeared in the plays.8 As narrator, Tremblay
enjoyed the feeling of talking directly to his reader; he also liked
being able to show his affection for his characters.9 While Sandra
could never reclaim his place among his former neighbors, Tremblay
returned to his childhood through fiction, and in the process
discovered--and affirmed--his solidarity with the people of Quebec. In
1984, after writing four ghxanignaa, he added Aluaxginaa_an_91ng__§anna
to the supposedly completed play cycle, cheerfully conceding ”Ca
m'apprsndra e declarer dss choses."10 Thus, when Hanan is viewed in
light of later works, the play's ambiguous ending can be read as
foreshadowing a new phase in the career of Michel Tremblay; it was not
the end of a "world," but an artist's attempt to maintain freedom and

integrity.

Notes

1 Michel TremblaY. Were. suivi de 5111;111:131
finnnniaal (Montreal: Lemeac 1977) 65. All further references will be

contained within the text.

2 Pierre Filion, introduction, Dannaa_uanan_aaa1aa_§anaza 21.

3 Michel Tremblay, interview, 'Entrevue avec Michel Tremblay,” by
Rachel Cloutier, Marie Laberge, and Rodrigue Gignac, Nana 1.1 (automne
l97l):54-55.

4 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Michel Tremblay: une société qui
s'éveills,” by Yves Tachereau, Annualiga avril 1978: 14.

5 See Renate Usmiani, M19ha1_1;amh1ay (Vancouver: Douglas and Mc
Intyre, 1982) 127.

5 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Quand Michel Tremblay traits au
fanatisme en religion et en sexe," by Martial Dassylva, La__2;aaaa 26
fev. 1977.

7 Tremblay, interview by Dassylva.

8 See text 4-5.

9 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Michel Tremblay et la mémoire
collective,” by Donald Smith, Lettrss_suébéssisss automne 1981: 55.

10 Levesque, Robert, “Michel Tremblay, ls dramaturge," L2.D£!21£ 10

nov. 1984: 31.

221

PART V

SELF-KNOWLEDGE AND INDEPENDENCE IN THE NEW QUEBEC

222

Alhaxgina‘_an_ging_§amna: From ”Continuer" to "Choisir"

Alhanginaa__an_a1ng_;amna opened in Ottawa October 12, 1984. The
Montreal debut took place the following month, as did the publication of
mm. the fourth novel of W
Man;__fiaxa1. Although Albertine and her children are mentioned only
briefly in this novel, which is devoted to Albertine's brother, the
Duchesse, they were major figures in the first two ghxgnignaa. Earlier,
Albertine had appeared in two plays, first as Robertine in En Pieceg
aagaahaaa, and then as Gabriel's sister Albertine in Banjoar, 1a,
fianjgnz. She is not exactly the same individual from one work to the
next, but within any given play or novel, she makes essentially no
progress toward greater self-understanding. In Alhaxgina‘__an__aing
ganna, Tremblay shows Albertine at five points in her life, from 1942,
when she is thirty, until she is seventy in 1982. By using a different
actress to portray Albertine at each decade, Tremblay simultaneously
shows what Albertine was like, and how she has changed. The result is a
dramatic yet realistic representation of a dependent individual who
eventually acquires the strength to exercise personal freedom.

The play opens with Albertine a 70 ans, "une vieille touts menus,
presque trottinants," as she enters her room in a "centre d'accueil" for
the elderly, and begins to acquaint herself with her new surroundings.1

Although not entirely satisfied with her accommodations, she is pleased

to have a rocking chair, and taking a seat, begins to rock. Albertine a

223

224

30 ans is the next to enter. Going to a rocking chair on the porch of a
house in rural Duhamel, she too sits down, and the two women rock in
unison. "Je reviens ds ben loin," remarks Albertine a 70 ans,
explaining that she nearly died six months earlier (17). Her life was
saved, but she laughs to think that the treatment was almost as
dangerous as the problem for which she was being treated. "Tant qu'a ca,
vaut mieux en rirs que de me lamenter jusqu'a ma mort... ma deuxieme...
la bonne, j'sspere," she continues, laughing again (17). Determined to
laugh rather than complain, Albertine seems resolved to make the best of
her present situation.

As Albertine e 70 ans continues to describe her recent health
problems and slow recovery, Albertine e 40 ans settles on the balcony of
the Montreal apartment which she and her children share with her mother
and her brother Gabriel and his family. Then Albertine a 50 ans takes
her post behind the counter of the restaurant where she works in
Lafontaine Park. The next to appear, Albertine e‘60 ans goes to her
bedside table and automatically takes a pill. Finally Madeleine, her
only sister, enters and sits down beside Albertine a 30 ans. It is now
time for Albertine a 70 ans to come to terms with her past.

After introducing all six characters, with Albertine a 70 ans as
the play's central figure, Tremblay presents the major events of
Albertine's life in chronological order. As each Albertine recounts the
experiences of her decade, the others comment according to their
particular perspectives. The ageless Madeleine adopts the same
perspective in time as her interlocutor. Her death in the 19603 is
acknowledged, but communication continues, a sign of Albertine's

enduring affection for her sister.

225

W

A recent crisis has revealed family problems which Albertine cannot
ignore. The week in Duhamel, her first trip away from home, is intended
to give her a more positive outlook on her situation. Instead, it makes
her more aware of how limited and difficult her life has been. After
watching the sunset, for example, she tells Madeleine: "J'avais jamais
rien vu ds si beau" (19). The lovely countryside contrasts sharply with
the crowded apartment on rue Fabre, where peace and harmony are unknown,
and buildings block her view of the sky. As she looks at the stars
which are beginning to appear, she marvels at the thought of other
worlds, and then exclaims: "Pis y fallait que j'tombs ici, ousque tout
va mal!” (24). The remark surprises Madeleine. "Ofi est—cs que tu
voulais tomber?" she wonders, but Albertine does not answer (24).
During the course of the play, however, it becomes increasingly clear
that at thirty she considers herself a victim doomed to lead an
unhappy life, no matter where she is.

As she continues to observe the sights and sounds of nightfall in
the country, Albertine is impressed not only with the beauty, but with
the vitality and spontaneity of this unfamiliar world of nature. Even
the birds overhead "avaient tellement l'air d'avoir du fun," she remarks
(32). This world is so different from her urban milieu that she cannot
always describe it. J'ai pas les mots pour t'expliquer ca... c'est trop
bon," she tells Albertine e 70 ans as she takes a deep breath of the
evening air (32). Supplying the words which her sister cannot find,
Madeleine enumerates the scents which can be detected. "Ca sent la
vie," she concludes (33). The implication is clear: never having

experienced life, Albertine can neither identify nor describe it.

226

Being in Duhamel not only makes Albertine realize how stifled her
life has been, it also inspires thoughts of escaping the ‘painful
situation which she has temporarily left behind. How much better it
would be if they were all habiganga living in Duhamel. As it is, she
dreads returning to Montreal, and wishes she could stay in the country.
'J'le sais que es se psut pas,“ she quickly adds, "que mes enfants
m'attendent meme si y'ont peur ds moi comme du bonhomme sept heures, que
tout ca c'est juste une semaine ds repos parce que chus fatiquée..."
(38). Albertine apparently takes her responsibilities to her children
seriously, and cannot understand what has gone wrong, for it has not
been her intention to make her children fear her.

Albertine's anxiety is intensified by her own fear of being judged
a bad mother, which would mean social rejection. This thought is so
troubling that she wants no one to know what happened. Finally, however,
she turns to Madeleine for help, admitting "j'ai envie ds me vider le
coeur" (52). Slowly the story begins to unfold. Recently Albertine
gave her eleven-year-old daughter Therese a savage beating, and now the
memory of her violence appalls her. ”J'ai failli tuer Therese," she
tells Madeleine; "Si Gabriel etait pas arrive, j'pense que je l'aurais
tuee pour vrai" (52). But while she condemns her behavior, she also
feels that it was not her fault, for she was impelled by feelings over
which she has no control:

Madeleine, j'ai en dedans de moi une force tellement grande!
Une... J'ai une puissance, en dedans de moi, Madeleine, qui me
fait peur! (Silence.) Pour detruire. (Silence.) Je l'ai
pas voulue. Est la. Peut-etre que si j'avais été moins
malheureuse j'aurais fini par l'oublier ou la dompter... mais
y'a dss fois... y'a dss fois ofisque j'sens une... une rage,
c'est de la rage, Madeleine, ds la rage! Chus t'une enragée!
(Silence. Elle leve un peu les bras.) R'garde... la grandeur

du ciel... Ben la grandeur de c'te ciel-1e arriverait pas a
contenir ma rage, Madeleine! (Silence.) Si j'explosais,

227

Madeleine... Mais j'exploserai jamais... A c't'heure, j'sais
que j'exploserai jamais... C'que j'ai faite a Therese m'a trop
fait peur! (53). '
Frightened by the destructiveness of her rage, Albertine knows she must
never "explode.” Nevertheless, she perceives herself as the victim of
an outside force which has invaded and overpowered her. Her thoughts and
actions, triggered by her anger, are no longer her own.

At first, Madeleine does not realize that Albertine's anger is too
deeply rooted to be dismissed easily. She therefore begins by trying to
persuade her sister that her problems are not unusual, that every mother
has to cope with difficult situations. "C'est notre rels, Bartine," she
tells her, but Albertine disagrees: "Notre rele! C'est pas notre relel
C'est notre lot!” (55). She is persuaded that all women share a common
fats which allows no freedom, no leeway, no choice. Not every woman may
be in a situation as difficult as hers, but surely, she insists, they
are all confined. 'Toi, t'es tombee sur un meillsur lot que le mien,"
she tells her sister, "Okay, mais meme e ca... Tu ts sens pas... tu te
sens pas dans un trou, dss fois, Madeleine, dans un tunnel, dans une
cage!" (55). Since Madeleine does not understand, Albertine continues:
”Dans dix ans, dans vingt ans, on va etre encore 1e, dans notre cage
avec dss barreaux! Pis quand on va etre vieilles, quand y'auront pus
besoin ds nous autres, y vont nous mettre dans des cages de vieilles!
Pis on va virsr folles d'ennui!“ (56). This is as close as Albertine
can come to expressing her view of life: all women are doomed to a
confined existence which culminates in madness.

Albertine apparently does not see a connection between being

"caged” and feeling frustrated and angry. When Madeleine asks what makes

her think such things, Albertine can only reply: "Je 1e sais pas. J'ai

228

pourtant pas l'habituds de me revoltsr" (57). But as she reflects on her
present situation, she once again feels the force of her anger. "C'est
ma rage, Madeleine, c'est ma rage qui veut frapper," she begins, adding:
I'Mais j'sais pas qui, pis j'sais pas ou, pis j'sais pas comment" (58).
This unfocused rage, "une boule de feu dans (s)a poitrine," is always
present, intense, inexplicable, and undiminishsd by her outbursts (61).
Everything upsets her, she says, even good things, because something bad
is sure to follow. Although she is aware that her conduct is often
inappropiate, she cannot control it. Her behavior is automatic; it
controls her and leaves her feeling powerless.

Any mother would indeed be alarmed to learn that a man had been
following her young daughter. Any mother would also be disturbed to have
her daughter enjoy such an adventure. Albertine takes a still more
extreme position, however, treating the incident as further evidence
that men, motivated by sexual desire, are responsible for women's
servitude and humiliation. Moreover, she is convinced that despite the
harm they do, men go unpunished; women are always the ones who suffer
the consequences. The thought of such injustice enrages Albertine.

"As-tu deje eu envie de toute detruire autour de toi? As-tu deja senti

1a force ds toute detruire," she asks her sister (66). Then she
continues: "Les hommes... les hommes... les hommes... C'est eux autres,
Madeleine. Eux autres. Pas nous autres" (66). Once again Albertine

represents women as victims, but this time she identifies men as their
Oppressors. Madeleine's response is to take her sister in her arms, but
Albertine pulls away, too angry to be comforted.

Since Therese was not harmed, and since the man disappeared in

early June, after following Therese for only a short time, the incident

229

might seem closed. From Albertine's perspective, however, it foretells a
terrible fate: her daughter not only attracts men, she is attracted to
them and will therefore always be at their mercy. Albertine recalls
with horror overbearing the conversation in which Therese and a friend
casually discussed the handsome young man who had followed Therese.
"Y'avaient tellement pas l'air de comprendre... ls danger... 1e danger
dss hommes," Albertine tells her sister (68). When she heard Therese say
that the last time she saw the man, she let him put his arms around
her, Albertine completely lost her self-control. "J'ai fesse, Madeleine,
j'ai fessé,“ say all five Albertinss one after another (68). Despite
cries, tears, and staring neighbors, Albertine kept on: "C'est pas
Therese que je frappais, js pense, c'est... c'est toute la vie...
J'avais pas les mots pour expliquer 1e danger, ca fait que j'fessais!"
(68). She had never talked much about men to Therese, she adds, "les
mots que j'aurais employes auraisnt ete trop laids” (68).

This long-awaited account of what took place reveals that
Albertine's violence erupted when she realized that Therese was
flattered by the attentions of her follower. "A'l'aimait ca," Albertine
tells her sister, ”C'est elle qui me l'a dit. C'est pour ca que j'ai
fesse!” (67). She also realizes that her violence was not really
intended for Therese. She wanted to warn her, but lacked the necessary
words. How was she to impart her understanding of sex as the means by
which men use women for their pleasure and then leave them to their
fate? How was she to explain that marriage, which was supposed to
protect the family, could trap women instead? Indeed, how could she

discuss any aspect of sexual relationships until she understood her own

230

sexuality? And so, not knowing how to attack the real problem she
attacked her daughter instead.

Aware that she has overreacted, Albertine looks for ways to
minimize her responsibility. She begins by suggesting that she will be
considered insane, perhaps even be committed to an asylum. Madeleine
rejects this notion, but Albertine continues to insist: I'Mais je 1e
suis, t'sais. Battre sa fille parce qu'a'frele un danger au lieu de
y'expliquer, c'est pas ds la folie, tu pensss!" (70). Refusing to
consider the suggestion that her problem is due to ignorance, and can be
solved, Albertine replies that she is "pas comme les autres;" what may
work for some does not work for her (71). She has tried to talk with
Therese and to understand Marcel, she adds, "Mais on est tou'es trois
pareilles... trois tetes de cochons... pis ls contact est pas possible"
(72). After claiming that she is not able to behave as others would,
Albertine now calls herself and her children pig-headed, which suggests
that they are incapable of change, and that further conflict is
inevitable. Albertine also implies that even if force is necessary, she
must make her children obey. It is the right thing to do, and she
should not be punished for it. 'Si j'me msts a vargsr sur mes enfants de
meme parce que j'sais que c'est pas possible de leur parler, y vont-tu
m'snfermer? Meme si j'ai raison?" she asks (73). Albertine leaves
little doubt that her authoritarian behavior will continue.

In this play, as in Laa_§allaa;aaaa;a, there are no men, but their
influence on women's lives is readily apparent. Although Albertine a 30
ans does not specifically mention her husband, the other Albertines make
it clear that they loathed him. Finally realizing that Albertine's

'violence stems in part from her feelings about her husband, Madeleine

231

comments: ”C'est pas parce que t'as connu un ecoeurant que ca veut dire
qu'y sont toutes pareils" (79). Citing her husband Alex as an example of
”un homme bon,” Madeleine then describes her own marriage, which is as
happy as it is conventional. It exemplifies marriage as defined by her
society, and represents the model which Albertine has failed to achieve.

Perfectly aware that her marriage has been a failure, Albertine
implies that the fault is her husband's. Alex may be a good man, but he
is the exception; men usually do more harm than good, and she wants
to protect Therese from that harm. Admitting that she has no specific
goal in mind for her daughter, she is nonetheless adamant about what she
does not want for her: “J'veux pas qui y'arrive la meme chose qu'a moi!
Pis j'veux pas non plus qu'a ss revolts pis qu'a devienns une tete
brfilée!‘ (81). Furthermore, she has little time left to influence the
important decisions that her daughter will soon make: 'Ben.vite, ca va
etre une femme, pis premiere chose qu'on va savoir, a'va etre enfarmes
comme nous autres! Ou ben donc a'va etre rejstee avec les parias" (81).
Before Madeleine can comment, Albertine adds bitterly: "As-tu deja
pense a ca, toi qui es si intelligente, qu'on avait juste deux choix,
nous autres?" (81). Then, when asked whether she would have been happier
if she had chosen the alternative, revolt and the life of the pariah,
Albertine retorts: ”C'est pas ea, 1e problems! Si j'etais plus jeune,
j'essaierais peut-etrs de m'en inventer un troisieme... (Silence.) C'est
ca qu'y faudrait que j'dise a Therese... Si j'arrivais a y parler, un
jour..." (82).

"Le problems," as Albertine sees it, is that women do not have
genuine choices. Once married, a woman loses her individuality and

becomes a wife and mother, and is expected to live for her husband and

232

children. The woman who sacrifices her reputation in order to have
greater freedom is likely to find that being a pariah is also confining.
Because she realizes that women have too few opportunities for self-
fulfillmsnt, Albertine is ahead of the monolithic Quebec society of
1942. She senses that the women in her world lead narrow and
unrewarding lives whether they are housewives on rue Fabre or working in
the clubs on the Main. But while she can see the need for choice, she
does not understand that choosing is an independent act of will.

The problem facing Albertine is thus more complex than she
realizes. Much of what she experiences as confinement is in fact the
result of dependence fostered by a society more concerned with
conformity than with the integrity of the individual. It is true that
Albertine has too few choices, but she is also too weak to take
advantage of the choices which are available to her. To take a small
example: if she perceives herself as not free to go to the park to
enjoy the sunsets, it is not because she is too busy, but because that
is not what housewives are supposed to do. Even in matters which deeply
affect her, she conforms without looking for alternatives. She
obviously resented her socially prescribed duties to her husband, yet
apparently performed them as if she had absolutely no choice. In respect
to her children, she seems to regret the absence of love, but in
defining her responsibilities as a mother, she considers social norms,
not her children's needs.

The task of child-rearing is indeed a constant source of
frustration, for Albertine knows that she is expected to teach her
children, especially her daughter, to respect norms which she has found

demeaning. When she discovered that Therese had permitted a situation

233

which might well have compromised her entire future, Albertine was
beside herself with frustration and rage. If she did not make Therese
conform, they would both become social outcasts. On the other hand,
conformity meant that her daughter would experience the same kind of
humiliations which she has endured. Caught in a vicious circle of
endless dependency, Albertine sacrifices integrity in order to gain
social acceptance. Anything or anyone who interferes with conformity is
regarded as an obstacle to be overcome by force, if necessary. But
since conformity provides only an illusion of security, Albertine often
feels powerless and completely alone.

By the end of the evening, Albertine e 30 ans has openly
acknowledged her anger, and while she has not resolved any of her
problems, she seems closer to understanding them. Her more relaxed and
optimistic outlook is evident as she imagines being on the opposite
mountain looking at the peaceful scene of two women talking on the
veranda. They would appear happy, she thinks. She sees the world around
her from a new perspective, too. "D'habitude j'ai peur du noir," she
tells Madeleine, ”mais 1a, j'aimerais ca rentrer dedans...J'ai jamais le
temps de penser que le monde existe, immense pis epeurant, en ville.
(Silence.) En ville, le monde est petit" (90). No longer synonymous
with nothingness, as it is in the city, the darkness merely conceals the
vast world of which she is a part. Although it is unknown, and
therefore "epeurant,” it exists, assuring her that she is surrounded by
life. For a moment she thinks she will cry, but no tears come; her
emotions are still too tightly controlled. As Madeleine gets up to go
inside, the two women agree that they will continue their talk the

following day.

234

Alone on the veranda, "tu-seule au milieu du monde," Albertine
watches the August moon rise in the evening sky (101). Although the moon
makes her painfully aware of her isolation, its beauty brings her
pleasure, and its majesty inspires her. For a few brief moments,
perhaps, she glimpses a life in which she charts her own course, alone,
yet part of the world around her.

W

By 1952, the week at Duhamel seems remote. As Albertine sits
smoking a cigarette on her balcony overlooking rue Fabre, she is a
little heavier, her face is harder, and her clothes show signs of wear.
Now more aliented than ever, she looks up at the stars, observing that
somewhere in the universe, there must be better places to live, for life
on earth is unbearable. "T'aimes pas grand chose,” remarks Albertine a
50 ans; 'J'aime rien, nuance!” is the bitter reply (30). Life consists
of nothing but problems: "La rue Fabre, les enfants, 1e reste de la
famille...b&tard que chus tannée,“ she declares (31). The air, which
had smelled of life at Duhamel, has an entirely different odor in
Montreal: "Ici, ca sent le mélangeage de monde qui vont pas ensemble.
Ca sent 1a chicane, pis l'hypocrisie, pis la jalousie, pis..." (35).
But words are not enough to describe the atmosphere which prevails in
the apartment on rue Fabre.

The problems of 1942, rather than being resolved, have steadily
worsened, and new ones have developed. Albertine a 30 ans, reminded
that her mother was born in Duhamel, remarks that the house is "pleine
d'elle,” but does not imply that her mother's presence is unwelcome

(37). At forty, Albertine's attitude toward her mother is openly

hostile. She complains of having her "su'l'dos A'longeur de jour," and

 

235

after commenting "J'peux pus l'endurer ... pis elle non plus," she adds:
"Mais a'l'acheve... pis c'est tant mieux” (37,38). Albertine a 50 ans,
calling this ”effrayant,” is quickly silenced when Albertine a 40 ans
accurately predicts: "Quand a'va étre disparue, on va étre ben
debarrassée, ici-dedans, toi la premiere!” (39).

If Albertine views her mother as a burden, it is not because she
requires special care, but because she adds to Albertine's burden of
self-doubt. "A'pense que chus pas intelligente," Albertine tells
Madeleine (41). In fact, she complains, the whole family thinks so:
"J'vous entends, tu sais ... pis j'vous vois faire! Pauv' Bartine par-
ci, a'l'a pas compris telle affaire, pis pauv' Bartine par-la, c'est pas
de sa faute, est tellement bouchée” (41). Madeleine tries to explain:
"Tu sais comment c'que t'es, Bartine... Des fois tu fais pis tu dis des
affaires qu'on a ben de la misere a s'expliquer' (42). Convinced that
others consider her incompetent and dismiss her opinions, Albertine
feels belittled and is constantly on the defensive. She deserves
sympathy, she insists, not blame.

One of Albertine's most frequently-used strategies for self-defense
is to blame others. "J'ai un garcon pas normal pis une fille exaltée
mais ca veut pas dire qu'y prennent ca de moi," she protests, pointing
to her husband as the real culprit (42). Because he was killed in
action, she claims, people wrongly assume that he was a war hero. She
thinks it far more likely that "y'est allé se saprer devant les autres
pour faire 1e fanfaron pis qu'y'est pas pantoute mort en héros mais en
bouffon" (42). "Un épais” as well as "un bouffon," her husband deserves

a large share of the blame for the children's problems (42).

236

In defending her behavior, Albertine also argues that the fault
lies not so much in what she says and does, but in the way others
perceive it. The family does not try hard enough to understand her:

C'est pas ma téte qui marche, moi, c'est... mes instincts, on
dirait... Des fois j'fais des affaires avant d'y penser, c'est
vrai, mais c'est pas toujours mauvais, ca c'pas vra14 Depuis
que chus p'tite que j'vois le monde me regarder d'un drble
d'air quand j'parle parce que j'dis tout c'que j'pense comme
j'le pense... Vous portez des jugements sur tout c'que j'dis
mais vous vous entendez pas, des fois! Y'a des fois ou vous
devriez avoir un peu moins de téte pis un peu plus de coeur!
Pis vous m'écoutez jamais, a part de ca! Quand j'ouvre 1a
bouche vous prenez tu-suite un air méprisant qui m'insulte
assez! Vous etes tellement habitués a penser que j'ai pas
d'allure que vous m'écoutez meme pus! (43).
Albertine is not being sentimental. She asks her family to listen less
with their heads and more with their hearts because she is convinced
that her feelings, which she cannot explain or justify, point to
important truths. Something is wrong with the world she lives in; she
cannot name it, but it causes her to rebel, and she thinks her family
should understand.

Albertine's rebellion is clearly ineffective, however. First of
all, as she realized a decade earlier, her rage is unfocused. She
attacks people, not problems. Furthermore, she does not have a clear
sense of who she is or what she wants to accomplish. Serge, her nephew
in figuigg;‘__1§‘_hgniggg, had explicit values and goals, and was not
intimidated by the authoritarian behavior of family members who sought
to gain power over him by assigning him roles which would have made him
as dependent and weak as they were. Not only did Serge know how others
wanted to use him, he also realized that the bonds of dependency, which
gave an illusion of strength, in fact resulted in the loss of self-

esteem. He therefore concluded that authoritarian manipulation was

‘harmful; human relationships must be founded on love and mutual respect

237

in order to protect the integrity of the self. Albertine, however, has
no sense of selfhood, and it never occurs to her that people can help
each other live more rewarding lives.

In sum, Albertine's rebellion fails because she cannot clearly
identify the goals she wants to achieve. She is out-of-touch with
herself and with the outside world. Years of frustration and failure
have no doubt distorted her perceptions; wherever she turns, she
automatically sees disappointment and hears nothing but blame. As soon
as she speaks her mind, she complains to Madeleine, "vous m'envoyez
chier" (44). Madeleine, however, insists that communication is
impossible: ”Tu te pompes aussitbt qu'on te dit quequ'chose pis tu
fesses n'importe comment sans r6f16chir!’ (44). And indeed, Albertine
sees no way of ending the continuous quarreling which weakens and
isolates family members:

Si tu savais comme c'est dur de se sentir tu-seule dans une
maison pleine de monde! Le monde m'écoute pas ici-dedans
parce que j'arrete pas de crier pis j'crie parce que le monde
m'écoute pas! J'dépompe pas du matin au soir! A onze heures
du matin chus deja épuisée! J'cours apres Marcel pour 1e
protéger pis j'cours apres Therese pour l'empécher de faire
des bétises plus graves que celles de la veille! Pis j'crie
apres moman plus fort qu'a crie apres moi! Chus tannée d'étre
enragée, Madeleine! Chus trop intelligent pour pas me rendre
compte que vous me méprisez pis chus pas assez prime pour vous
boucher! (45).

Although Albertine recognizes that her behavior is counter-
productive, she is too concerned with controlling her children's
behavior to see their deep need for her affection and support. And
because of her defensiveness, she treats every criticism as a threat.

Not for a moment does she consider the possibility that she would feel

less alone if she listened to what others were trying to say.

238

Embittered by her endless succession of failures, Albertine a 40
ans is more convinced than ever that she is a victim whose suffering is
undeserved. ”Mais comment ca se fait que c'qui m'arrive a moi est
toujours pire que c'qui arrive aux autres," she demands (63). She has
apparently given up all hope for Marcel; he is "un enfant fou' who
cannot be helped (76). Therese's future had seemed more promising, but
now Albertine's worst fears are being realized: rebelliOus and
aggressively interested in men, Therese has become a "téte brulée” (81).
She will not invent a third choice, nor will she be free, and, Albertine
assures her younger self, there is nothing she can do about it. 'Toi,
tout c'que tu vas pouvoir faire, ca va etre d'la regarder aller en
braillant parce que tu vas te sentir responsable. On est toujours
responsables de toute, nous autres,“ she tells Albertine a 30 ans (81).

After using 'responsable' to refer to her feeling of personal
responsibility, which is too painful to explore, Albertine immediately
uses it in reference to duties unjustly imposed on women by society.
Here, speaking in generalities, she feels on safer ground. Society,
which gives women no power, holds them responsible for their children,
yet men have power, but are not held responsible for anything: "les
hommes, y finissent toujours par nous avoir. Que c'est que vous voulez,
c'est eux autres qui menent. Tant qu'on les laisse faire, y'en
profitent, sont pas fous. C'est leur monde, c'est eux autres qui l'ont
faite!" (83). And now, just as she feared, Therese too has been
trapped, taken advantage of by a man.

Choosing the path of non-conformity, Therese had dated a number of
men who would have been unsuitable husbands. When at last she brought

home a personable young man with a steady job, Albertine was relieved --

 

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239

until she realized that he had been Therese's mysterious follower. "Ca
y'avait pris dix ans pour l'avoir, mais y'avait fini par l'avoir!" she
exclaims sarcastically (84). Therese's failure to think through her
choices before making decisions upsets Albertine even more: "Pis savez-
vous c'qu'y m'écoeure le plus,” she continues, "A's'est mis dans téte de
le marier! Parce qu'y’est beau! Parce que les autres femmes sont
jalouses! Pis pour me faire chier! Demandez-vous pas pourquoi j'ai
toujours envie de tuer!" (84).

Although Albertine treats her future son-in-law as the main
obstacle to the life she has wanted for her daughter, Therese herself
is an obstacle, for she has knowingly chosen to marry a man who might
have raped her. Nevertheless, Albertine insists that it is men, driven
by sexual urges, who ruin women's lives. "Ma propre fille va marier un
homme qui a failli la violer y'a dix ans pis qui pourrait recommencer
n'importe quand avec n'importe qui," she exclaims, bitterly concluding:
”C'est ca, les hommes! Y'voyent un trou, y rentrent dedans!" (84).

The long, awkward silence which follows suggests both embarrassment
and disagreement. Then, when.Albertine adds that not even Alex is to be
trusted, some of the others intervene, reminding her that she was once
interested in Alex. But Albertine makes no concessions. Although she
cannot fully explain her situation, she implies that she was sexually
exploited and then abandoned by her husband to raise two problem
children in a difficult family environment. Her complaints about men
leave no doubt that love, respect, and supportiveness, as well as sexual
gratification have all been absent from her life. The resulting
insecurity has taken its toll. She had wanted a better life for her

daughter, but clearly Therese is not headed in the direction of freedom.

240

Albertine blames it on sex and men, knowing, however, that Therese had
some choice, and chose unwisely. Worse still, she cannot escape the
feeling that she has failed her daughter just as her own mother failed
her.

In her last long speech, Albertine a 40 ans sums up her
frustrations and those of her mother and daughter as well. Explaining
her lack of tears, she exclaims: I'J'ai juste des raisons de hurler!”
(91). The fact that all three women howl with frustration rather than
quietly resign themselves to their difficulties is evidence of a self
which exists despite the pressures of conventional society.
Nevertheless, the rage which Albertine describes only adds to their
confinement, and prevents them from seeing possible solutions:

Quand j'vois Therese arriver, les lendemains de la veille,
poquée pis encore emechée, trop fine avec moi parce qu'a'se
sent coupable d'avoir bu mais quand meme baveuse parce que
c'est sa seule facon de me montrer son indépendance, comment
voulez-vous que je pleure? J'crie! Pis a' me répond sur le
meme ton! Pis j'crie plus fort pour l'enterrer! La, moman se
met de la partie, a'sort tout c'qu'a'l'a contre nous autres...
On pourrait se planter ben droites au milieu du salon, toutes
les trois, pis hurler sans arréter en se regardant dans les
yeux, pis ca donnerait exactement 1a meme chose. On écoute
pas c'qu'on dit, on s'écoute crier! (91).

Although Albertine understands that each woman's response is the
result of her particular frustrations, she does not pursue the
implications of ”We don't listen.“ Instead she concludes that each one
must deal with her own problems alone:

Therese a fini au French Casino, sur la rue Saint-Laurent, au
milieu des guidounes, des drogués, pis des soulons, c'est de
ses affaires. Moi, j'ai éléve deux enfants pour rien pis
j'me sens coupable parce que j'ai l'impression que j'les ai
mal dirigés, pis ca me tue, c'est de mes affaires. Moman a été
obligée de quitter la maison de Duhamel pour venir s'installer
a Montreal pis a'l' l'a jamais pris, c'est de ses affaires.
Trois generations parfaites (91).

241

Albertine quickly dismisses the suggestion that it might help if
she listened to what the others had to say, protesting that she already
has enough problems of her own. Her main argument, however, reveals
the very behavior which she has been complaining about: "Y m'écoutent
pas, pourquoi j'les écouterais?” (92). Needless to say, Albertine does
not see that her attempts to protect herself from other people's
problems intensify her own feeling of isolation and helplessness.

Through the younger Albertines, Tremblay depicts early stages in
the transition from a hierarchical, authoritarian social order to one in
which the individual exercises greater freedom and takes more
responsibility for the choices made. Rebelling against the existing
society, in which people have assigned roles and relationships,
Albertine nevertheless clings to traditional definitions of duties and
responsibilities, too insecure to exercise what freedom she has. She
resents being expected to conform to society's standards, but does not
formulate standards of her own. Moreover, although she wants to be
treated as an individual, she does not know how to relate to others in a
personal way. In fact, she rarely perceives anyone, herself included,
as an individual. She spent a week in Duhamel and wished that the
family still lived there, yet shows no insight into her mother's failure
to adjust to life in Montreal. Similarly, Albertine's primary concern is
to control her daughter; she gives little thought to her daughter's
needs, be they intellectual, emotional, or sexual. At forty, Albertine
has yet to understand that if the old social order is to change, people
must discard not only confining definitions of roles, but the
authoritarian relationships which make individuals dependent and

incapable of mutual support.

242

Albertine's feeling of isolation and confinement, which has been
illustrated in many ways throughout the play, is further emphasized by
her response to the growing darkness of nightfall. Wishing that the
street lights would go on, she comments: "Ca m'étouffe, 1e noir. On
dirait que le monde se referme sur moi!" (90). Life has never seemed
blacker, and Albertine has never felt more completely alone.
Extinguishing her cigarette, she gets up to go inside, hoping that for
once, Therese will come home without making an ugly scene. Then, with
the other Albertines, she looks at the sky and notices the rising moon:
"Oui, c'est beau,“ she tells herself, "meme d'ici, c'est beau" (102).
The beautiful moon transcends the dark Quebec night, and while it can
scarcely be said to give Albertine a new outlook, at least it reminds
her that even in her life, there are moments of beauty.
W

In 1962, Albertine appears to be a whole new person. "Joviale,
chantonnante et maigre,‘ she is eating a sandwich with gusto as she
stands behind the restaurant counter in Lafontaine Park (17). Her
pleasure in food seems to be matched by an interest in her appearance,
for she has colored her hair and bought new clothes. Albertine makes her
presence known in still other ways. When she goes out in the evening,
she adds perfume to the odor of French fries which already clings to her
clothing and hair: "J'sais pas comment on pourrait appeler ca, c'te
mélange-la, mais moi j'aime ca! J'sens bonne pis forte!“ (35). These
aggressive, intrusive odors, which announce her presence, symbolize to
Albertine the end of confinement and the beginning of freedom.

The change in her attitude is most striking of all. Rather than

complain about her lot in life, Albertine asserts her rights and

243

actively seeks what she wants. In contrast to Albertine a 30 ans, who
says she has no time to enjoy nature, Albertine a 50 ans declares:
"J'le prends, moi, le temps” (21). Her memories from one week in the
country are not enough, she continues; "Non, aujourd'hui j'prends c'qui
passe pis quand un beau grand ciel tout en couleur se présente a moi,
j'm'arrete pis j'le regarde!" (21). Painful memories, on the other
hand, are deliberately repressed. She does not want to be reminded of
her bitter remarks about her mother, for example, and urges Albertine a
70 ans to concentrate on the good times in her life, for she believes
that memories can be controlled to prevent the past from intruding on
the present:
Si le passe te fait trop mal, contruis-toi z'en un neuf...
Fais comme moi, oublie! Essaye, en tout cas. En fin de
compte, tu vas voir, c'est pas si difficile que ca. Moi,
quand un mauvais souvenir essaye de m'achaler, j'me pousse...
Si chus A'maison, j'sors... Si chus au travail, j'chante...
C'est comme si j'le laissais en arriere, tu comprends, pis que
j'me sauvais (60).
These arguments do not persuade Albertine a 70 ans, but at fifty,
Albertine is not yet strong enough to confront the memories which
disturb her.
Albertine's new outlook on life began with a discovery: ”J'pensais
a mes enfants pis a ma famille qui m'ont jamais écoutée, qui ont
toujours toute faite sans jamais s'occuper de moi, sans jamais me
demander mon avis, comme si j'avais pas existe, pis j'ai découvert que
dans la vie pour se faire entendre, faut ggggbgizl" (Author's emphasis,
74). Albertine has complained before that family members do not listen
to her, but this is the first time that she has mentioned the need for

action. While the term "désobéir" admittedly implies reaction,

Albertine's discovery is important: she has never exercised her own

244

will. Learning to act without first seeking the approval of others was
not easy, she recalls:
J'ai eu d'la misere a me faire a l'idée, au commencement, par
example... J'avais tellement toujours dépendu de tout le
monde! C'est pas des farces, c'etait rendu que quand on me
disait pas quoi faire je 1e demandais! J'quetais! J'ai passe
ma vie e queter! J'etais debout au milieu d'une maison pis
avant de faire un geste j'voulais qu'on me dise que c'etait
correct! Ca alimentait ma rage pis j'etais toujours au bord
d'exploser! (75)
After years of explaining her rage as the result of demands imposed on
her by society, Albertine sees that her dependence also feeds her anger.
Failing to probe the implications of dependence, however, she concludes
that since obedience led to non-existence, disobedience must therefore
be the key to existence.

Having chosen ”desobeir' as her motto, Albertine began to examine
her duties as the mother of two adult children. Therese, 'disparue
dans'brume,‘ called only when she had been arrested for drunkeness, and
needed someone to pay the fine (75). Marcel posed a different problem.
"Un eternel enfant de vingt-cinq ans presque pas responsable," he had
become difficult to control (75). As a result, she declares
defiantly, "J'ai desobei a men rele, Madeleine!" (76). "Si je l'avais
pas fait,” she continues, 'j's'rais encore prisonniere d'un fou qui me
tiendrait dans le creux de sa main pis qui deviendrait de plus en plus
dangereux... c'est pas le rele de parsonne, ca!" (76).

Albertine has finally concluded that her role is impossible. No
longer can society tell her: "T'as mis au monde un enfant fou, c'est de
ta faute, paye!” (76). She has done all anyone could do; no more can be
asked of her. ”J'ai casse le moule de mere-poule," she proclaims (76).

After a silence, she explains: "J'ai dit a Therese que j'voulais pus

rien savoir d'elle... pis j'ai fait placer Marcel loin d'ici" (76). But

245

Albertine knows that more than terminate an impossible role, she has
also terminated relationships which were important to her.

Madeleine does not reproach Albertine for her decision, but turns
away, a gesture which symbolizes the rift which occurred between the two
sisters. Although family relations were strained for several years,
Albertine was determined to be independent, and set out to look for a
job. "Une job,” she exclaims, "La liberte!” (77). At the park
restaurant Albertine now earns her living and is proud of her reputation
for making good sandwiches. The job has other rewards. She enjoys the
sunsets, for instance, and likes to watch the children skate in the
winter. Happy at last, she sings from morning til night. "J'vis comme
j'veux," she declares, "sans famille, sans enfants, sans homme!" (78).

Since Albertine admits that she sometimes sings to chase away
unpleasant memories, she is no doubt exaggerating her present happiness,
but she has made some significant changes in her life. In contrast to
Therese, who sought escape from the life on rue Fabre by choosing the
illusory glamour of rue Saint-Laurent, Albertine has invented the third
choice which she had thought beyond her reach twenty years earlier. She
has found a job which she can do well and which she finds meaningful.
The fact that she is proud of work which is similar to her former tasks
at home emphasizes the importance of choice. Environment is also shown
to be important. The park encourages individual pursuits, yet fosters a
certain community spirit. In this spacious, beautiful setting,
Albertine has gained a new interest in life, and the compliments of her
customers give her self-confidence. And because she is being heard, she

believes that she is at last in control of her life.

246

But Lafontaine Park is a special place, a haven free from the
pressures of life on rue Fabre or rue Saint-Laurent. Feeling secure and
happy, Albertine wants to believe that the future will be equally
untroubled. She has found the simple, safe world she had dreamed of as
a schoolgirl: “j'revais, des fois, qu'y'avait rien en dehors de
l'ecole... Que l’ecole c'tait le monde. Un monde avec rien que des
enfants. Juste des petites filles qui dansent e'corde" (90). Albertine
had not wanted to join the adult world, no doubt sensing that she would
be expected to follow in the footsteps of her mother, a visibly unhappy
and dissatisfied woman. Then during the 1960s, when she severed her
ties to her children, asserted her presence, and made herself heard, she
thought she had found the carefree freedom she had imagined as a child.
Albertine e 60 ans assures her, however, that her freedom is an
illusion, and that she will be called back into the world to face the
consequences of her behavior. Refusing at first to believe her,
Albertine a 50 ans finally resolves to act; ”J'vas toute faire, toute,
pour que rien de tout ca arrive!" (101). Buoyed by her new-found
confidence, she is sure that it is not too late.

As she looks up from her work at the restaurant counter, Albertine
a 50 ans is the first to notice the moon. “On dirait qu'en etirant 1e
bras on pourrait la toucher," she comments (102). Her remark sums up
this period in her life when she is in touch with beauty and nature,
when everything seems possible.

AW

"Courbee, vieillie, pele,” Albertine a 60 ans is the picture of

defeat (18). Alone in her bedroom, withdrawn from the world, she goes

to her bedside table and takes a pill without a glance at the lable on

247

the bottle. Habitual and unthinking, the gesture suggests inner
collapse and chemical dependency. Agreeing with Albertine a 40 ans
that life is unbearable, she bristles when Albertine a 70 ans tells
her to be quiet. “Tout le monde m'hait," she complains, to which the
older woman replies sharply: "Y'a de quoi" (26). Deriding the optimism
of the previous decade, Albertine sometimes echoes the anger of the two
younger women, but more often than not, she simply maintains that
nothing matters. Human beings have no control over their lives, and to
think that they can make things happen is just as ridiculous as to
believe that the astronauts really went to the moon. She is surprised
to learn that Albertine a 70 ans thinks that the moon landing took
place, but remains indifferent to what is going on around her. When the
others are trying to describe and identify certain birds they have
noticed, she exclaims impatiently: "0n s'en sacre, des hirondelles!"
(32). Whether the subject is world events or the birds overhead,
nothing interests her or is worth thinking about. Her mind is numb.
Albertine's senses are equally numb. As the others talk about the
distinctive odors of their respective worlds, Albertine a 60 ans can
only speculate: "C'est le renferme que ca doit sentir, ici!" (35).
”J'ai trop peur d'attraper mon coup de mort,” she says to justify her
habit of keeping the bedroom window shut, but life, not death, is what
she fears most: ”J'me sus enfermee dans la maison ou chus venue au
monde... meme pas... dans une chambre de c'te maison-la... pour me
proteger des senteurs du dehors. Y'a pus rien qui peut me toucher, j'ai
perdu l'odorat" (35-36). Albertine has lost touch with the world in
other ways as well. When Madeleine tries to put her arms around

Albertine e 40 ans, the older woman remarks that sometimes she remembers

248

"des contactes physiques," but, she continues, "C'est dans ma tete que
j'm'en rappelle. Pis ca me degoute tellement que je remercie le ciel de
pus connaitre personne" (50). She is of course the person she least
wants to know. To avoid self-knowledge, Albertine isolates herself from
the world and represses not only her intellect, but her senses and
emotions, too. She then claims to share with Albertine e 30 ans the
feeling of being caged, ignoring the fact that she chose confinement as
a way to withdraw from life and forget the past.

Throughout the play Albertine e 60 ans maintains her basic
argument that human freedom is impossible; life is shaped by fate. To
the thirty-year-old Albertine, who mentions revolt, Albertine a 60 ans
replies: "Ca sert jamais a rien, la revolte' (56). "La revolte, c'est
enfantin,‘ she continues, ”Pis la punition est toujours trop grande!“
(S8). Thirty years ago she had said: ”c'est ma rage qui veut frapper,”
but now she has learned that rage is futile: "Y'a pas de mots...pour
décrire... l'impuissance de la rage!” (58). Experience has also taught
her that the escapism of the previous decade cannot succeed, either:
l'C'est pour es que j'me sus resignee! Tu peux jamais te sauver nulle
part, jamais!“ (60). Having lost all hope, Albertine is indeed
resigned-~to death.

The reasons for Albertine's resignation and withdrawal are revealed
only after Albertine a 50 ans has admitted that it is painful to talk
about breaking her ties to her children. Commenting, "Ca coute cher de
desobeir, hein,” Albertine e 60 ans wants nothing to do with this "sans-
coeur," and identifies instead with the intense anger and guilt of
Albertine e 40 ans (76, 78). "De quoi tu peux ben te sentir coupable,"

objects Albertine a 70 ans, "t'es droguee jusqu'aux yeux!" (94). But

249

drugs do not protect Albertine e 60 ans from the thoughts that haunt
her. Her hands shake and her mouth is dry as she tells of the day she
was asked to identify Therese's body, which had been found in a room on
rue Saint-Laurent. The sight of Therese's swollen face, her white skin,
and the pools of blood horrified Albertine and filled her with guilt:
"C'est-tu 1a que ma vie menait,‘ she asked herself, "C'est-tn le prix
que j'ai e payer pour quequ'z'annees de tranquillite? (...) C'est-tu
moi qui l'a rendus 1a... ma fille... que j'ai jamais su tenir?" (97).
Looking at Therese's lifeless body, Albertine was painfully aware of her
daughter's vulnerability and desperate need for help. No longer able to
say with a shrug of her shoulders “C'est de ses problemes,' Albertine
knows that beneath Therese's rebelliousness there was a valid desire for
freedom. She also knows that she was among those who failed to give
Therese the help she needed.

Rather than analyze her responsibilities to her daughter, Albertine
merely repeats what was probably the opinion of her family and
neighbors: she “disobeyed“ and now must pay for her attempted revolt
during the previous decade. Turning to Albertine e 50 ans, she
scornfully berates her for thinking that she could choose freedom. The
day will come when the world falls apart; then, predicts Albertine a 60
ans, ”tu te retrouveras tu-seule devant absolument rien d'autre que la
bonne vieille culpabilite" (98). This kind of guilt neither forgives nor
understands.

To numb her thinking, feeling self, Albertine a 60 ans relies on
pills: "Des fois j'ai pas le choix ... c'est ca ou la folie... J'la sens
venir... Je revois Therese... Marcel, aussi, qui s'est definitivement

retire en lui-meme... (Elle leve les bras en croix.) Le monde...

250

explose! La rage revient" (99). When told that one day, overwhelmed
with guilt, she will take one pill too many, Albertine welcomes the
prospect of escape: "Tant mieux! Tant mieux! On sait jamais! La
porte que j'vas ouvrir va peut-etre mener quequ'part d'endurable! Le ou
j'vas aboutir, ca va peut-etre etre moins pire qu'ici!" (99). The past
is a terrible burden; she wants to rid herself of it, even if she must
destroy herself in the process.

Sitting in her room, looking forward to nothing but the relief
which her next pill will bring, Albertine does not immediately see the
moon. Then putting on her glasses, she too watches it rise. To the
others, it appears large, beautiful, and almost close enough to touch.
Albertine a 60 ans first notices how red it is, as if reminded of the
bloody scene of her daughter’s death. Nevertheless, after observing that
the moon “aussi est tu-seule," Albertine joins the others in a fleeting
gesture of solidarity as they reach toward the moon (102).
AM

Because the play opens with Albertine e 70 ans, the audience knows
from the beginning that in 1982 she is in a ”centre d'accueil pour
vieillards' (15). According to the author's description, Albertine has
the appearance and gestures of an elderly woman, but while she is old
and alone, she is clearly determined to be as independent as possible.
Before deciding where to live, for example, she visited the Center and
saw her room. On her arrival, she again evaluates the living
arrangements, and concluding that she has made the right decision, she
prepares to make herself at home. "Apres toute," she declares, "chus

chez nous, e c't'heure, ici" (l6).

251

After months in the hospital, Albertine treats her move to the
Center as an accomplishment. She has no illusions about the future, but
knows that she has choices as to how she will live, despite situations
which will undoubtedly weaken her resolve to be independent. There is,
for example, the minor ‘but annoying problem of adjusting to the
unpleasant odor which permeates her room. Then there are her memories.
She smiles to see Albertine a 30 ans, but the sight of Albertine e 60
ans mechanically taking a pill is so upsetting that she turns away.
"Tant qu'a ca, e c't'heure, chus ben contente d'etre revenue de tout
ca,‘ she declares, ”Parce que es va mieux. Parce que chus tranquille.
Parce que j'vas etre bien, ici. (Court silence.) Meme si ca sent pas
bon” (18). Her reluctance to face her behavior of the previous decade
indicates that she is not so 'tranquille' as she claims. Nevertheless,
she is ready to begin listening to the voices of the past.

Ever since 1948, Quebec's motto, 'Je me souviens,” had officially
encouraged the people of Quebec to remember and-continue unchanged a
heritage which had already become restrictive. In Albertine's case,
however, remembering proves to be a liberating experience. For decades,
she had listened to the voices of authority and tradition, voices
which she had eventually internalized so thoroughly that by the time she
was thirty, they were the only ones she heard. At seventy, however,
Albertine discovers that she has, and has had, a voice of her own. She
listens with amazement to younger selves describing the sunset at
Duhamel and in Lafontaine Park, scarcely able to believe that she ever
expressed herself so well: "Mais y me semble... que j'ai jamais parle
beau, comme ca" (22): She then realizes that the way she perceived

herself was colored by what others said about her: ”J'ai tellement ete

252

elevee e me trouver laide que j'ai de la misere a penser que j'ai deje
dit des belles choses' (23). Now less influenced by others' opinions,
Albertine is open to truths which she did not hear in the past.

Albertine e 70 ans has begun to uncover the truth in other ways. At
sixty, refusing to consider the evidence, she insisted that the moon
landing was a hoax. Ten years later, she accepts the facts; "J'ai ben
change," she explains, "J'ai lu. A c't'heure que j'vois clair avec mes
lunettes neuves, j'm'informe pis j'comprends des affaires" (29).
”J'vois clair,“ referring to her eyesight, applies equally well to her
clearer vision of the world. After years of suspecting that her family
was right in calling her unintelligent, Albertine has discovered that
she can understand events and issues. She can therefore make her own
decisions; she can even question tradition and the authorities whose
dictates she had been taught to obey. She need no longer say, as she
had at forty: “Faut ben jouer son rele jusqu'au boute, hein? On nous
l'a tellement dit“ (76). Now the indefinite "on” seems much less
intimidating, and confident that she can cope successfully with her
problems, she finds the world less irrational and unpredictable.

One sign of Albertine's increasing strength is that instead of
disguising problems, she acknowledges them without the self-pity or
defensiveness typical of her behavior in previous decades. When
Madeleine describes the many odors of the fields and woods at Duhamel,
Albertine fights back the tears, for the stale odor in her room reminds
her of the hospital, which smelled not of life, but of disease and
disinfectant (33). But she asks for no pity; her room is clean, she
reminds herself, and in time she will no doubt become accustomed to the

odor. Then drinking a cup of warm milk to help her sleep, she adds that

253

it is normal to be a little nervous the first night in a new place. In
the past, Albertine had consistently failed to identify her problems.
During her thirties and forties, for instance, she had seen her problems
as part of a vast, nebulous, inescapable fate. Next, she tried to ignore
her problems altogether, as if they did not exist. Failing in this, she
turned to medication to make her impervious to everything, even life
itself. Not until she is seventy, when she begins to ”voir clair,“ is
she able to identify and then attck her problems successfully.

As she begins to think about the past, however, Albertine does not
immediately focus on the central events of her life. Instead, after
listening to complaints and quarrels typical of previous years,
Albertine turns to her sister: 'Pauvre Madeleine... J't'en ai fait voir
de toutes les couleurs, hein... mais j'sais pas si tu savais a quel
point j't'aimais” (44). Surprised, Madeleine admits that no one in the
family knew exactly how she felt, but at times she talked about her
hatred so much that it was almost palpable. Not only does Albertine now
recognize the importance of expressing love openly, she also realizes
her need to feel respected. She might have discussed more and argued
less, she thinks, if Madeleine had used a different tone of voice.
Most important, however, was her need for affection: "j'aurais eu
besoin que tu me prennes dans tes bras, que tu m'embrasses," she tells
her sister (48). When she was younger, she had been afraid that any
display of affection only made her vulnerable to more wounds, and had
pushed Madeleine away.

For years, Albertine complained of her circumstances, but never
wanted to discuss her own behavior, too insecure to admit any

responsibility for causing or correcting her problems. By the time she

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is seventy, Albertine concedes that discussing problems is difficult,
but nonetheless favors telling Madeleine about punishing Therese. When
Albertine a 30 ans instead talks of her inescapable lot in life, the
older woman becomes impatient: ”Chut... pas si fort," she admonishes,
“Pense avant de parler“ (55). As Albertine a 30 ans continues, adding
that women are caged, and then discarded them when they are no longer

useful, Albertine a 70 ans becomes upset. I'C'est pas parce qu'y'ont pus

besoin de moi que chus ici... c'est parce que chus tu-seule," she
protests (57). Nevertheless, she is keenly aware of being alone--
'Tu-seule! Comme un chien!” (57). She listens as the others talk of

rage, revolt, and resignation; then, knowing that these kinds of
responses will not solve her problems, she calls for help: “Non, faut
pas que j'me laisser aller au decouragement... Aidez-moi!“ (58).
Determined not to succumb to the old fears and self-doubts which once
plagued her, Albertine seeks the support she needs to face a difficult
situation.

Responding to the older woman's pleas, Albertine e 50 ans sits
beside her and takes her hand. Comforted, Albertine nonetheless refuses
the advice of Albertine e 50 ans, who recommends repressing painful
memories and pretending that the events had never taken place.
Objecting that escape is impossible, Albertine tells her: "Tu
comprends, y'a pas de place, ici, pour se sauver, ni pour se revolter"
(60). Nor is she willing simply to give up, as she had at sixty. "Tu
t'es pas résignée," she tells Albertine e 60 ans, "Tu t'es juste laisse
aller. T'as abandonne... la vie, c'est pas pareil" (60). Having thus
faced, if only briefly, the worst period of her life, she feels more

sure of herself. ”Ca va aller mieux," she tells Albertine a 50 ans

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(61). The next time Albertine a 60 ans attacks, accusing both
Albertines of pretending to be happy and positive, Albertine a 70 ans
retorts: ”Moi, au.moins, chus heureuse d'etre en vie!" (64). Life
itself is to be valued, even though the circumstances may be far from
ideal. This does not silence Albertine e 60 ans, but Albertine now
turns her attention back to Albertine a 30 ans, again encouraging her to
talk about the recent crisis with Therese: "Vas-y," she tells her, "Ca
va te faire du bien“ (66).

All five Albertines participate in the account, sometimes "en
alternance," as is the case for “J'ai fesse, Madeleine, j'ai fesse”
(68). Clearly, they all view it as a critical event, but even at
seventy, Albertine does not appear completely confident of how to deal
with the issue. Rejecting the younger woman's notion that she must be
insane, Albertine e 70 ans diagnoses the problem as a matter of
ignorance. She then turns to Madeleine, asking her for confirmation.
When Madeleine demurs, Albertine becomes insulting, even calling her
sister 'ignorante" for saying that it would not help to tell Albertine
that her problems arise from ignorance (71). At one time, these
differences would have led to a quarrel, but Albertine chooses instead
to explain her reasoning: ”si tu y dis que c'est juste de l'ignorance,
pis que l'ignorance ca se repare, ca va peut-etre l'encourager e... je
le sais pas... a s'informer, a se poser des questions" (71). Albertine
e 30 ans, as we have seen, refuses to consider this‘ suggestion,
convinced that nothing will help solve her problems.

Still hopeful that the young Albertine can be persuaded to look for
ways of establishing a more positive relationship with both children,

Albertine e 70 ans tries another approach: "On depend toutes de toi,"

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she tells her, "Essaye... de discuter avec Therese... pis de comprendre
Marcel... quand y seront pus le, y va etre trap tard" (71). Albertine a
30 ans assures her that she does try, but without success. Then
addressing Albertine e 70 ans, she concludes: ”Juge-moi pas. Tu dois
pus te rappeler e quel point c'est dur' (72). With this, Albertine is
forced to admit that she can neither change the past nor escape the
consequences of her behavior:

Tant qu'e ca... Ca sert a rien de demander de changer quoi que

ce soit... Quand on est jeune on est sur d'avoir raison...
quand on est vieux on se rend compte qu'on a eu tort... e quoi
ca sert de vivre. On devrait avoir le droit de vivre une

deuxieme vie... mais on est tellement mal faite... on ferait
probablement pas mieux (72). ~

In 1982, rather than presenting herself as a helpless victim caught
up in events over which she has no control, Albertine acknowledges
having made mistakes. But the appropriate response to human error, she
now realizes, is not to deny or excuse it, but to understand it, even
if there is no assurance that she will make fewer mistakes in the
future. A change in Albertine's perspective is also reflected in her
language. When she used “on” in the past, it usually referred to
“them," the members of a society from which she felt excluded. Now,
however, Albertine speaks of herself as sharing experiences common to
all people; in doing so, she shifts the meaning of "on" from "them" to
”us." In the process of accepting responsibility for her actions,
Albertine has experienced a new sense of belonging as well as a clearer
sense of self.

Seeing herself and society in a new light, Albertine begins to
reconsider her former definition of freedom. As she listens to
Albertine a 50 ans tell her story, the older woman smiles to remember

her first and only job; for a few years, at least, she had the pleasure

 

257

of doing work which she had chosen, and which was rewarding. The
decision which freed her to work is more difficult to justify, however.
She refuses to go so far as Albertine e 60 ans, who calls her younger
self "une sans-coeur" for abandoning her children, yet is not willing to
give unqualified approval. This was the act which led to a cooling of
relations with Madeleine, who had strongly disapproved of the way she
finally shut Marcel and Therese out of her life. To be at peace with
herself, Albertine must rethink the issues which she once discussed with
Madeleine.

Madeleine is unique among Tremblay's women characters in being
both conventional and happy, but like the majority, she has little sense
of individuality, and does not distinguish, as does Albertine, between
social role and personal choice. Listening as Madeleine uses examples
from her own happy marriage to demonstrate that not all men are bad,
Albertine e 70 ans remarks: 'T'etais tellement naive, Madeleine” (80).
Admitting that she too is generalizing from just one individual,
Madeleine nevertheless prefers to think that men are good. She also
thinks that marriage offers women enough opportunities for
fulfillment, and would not be sorry to see her daughter have a life like
hers. At seventy, Albertine still believes that women must have other
options, but she is better able to understand Madeleine's position and
also her own feelings at the time:

Pauvre Madeleine. T'avais peut-etre raison, toi aussi. Y'a
pent-etre pas toujours juste une verite. Des fois y'a peut-
etre une verite pour nous autres, pis une autre pour les
autres... T'etais heureuse comme t'etais, Madeleine, pis au
fond,j'devais etre un peu jalouse de toi(82).

Albertine's observations elicit a varied response. The two younger

Albertines, insisting that they are not jealous, are quietly overruled:

258

"Vous vous l'etes pout-etre jamais avoue," Albertine a 70 ans tells them
(82). Albertine e 50 ans qualifies her' denial; she likes her
independence too much to be jealous, she says, "mais quand a' vient me
voir au restaurant avec sa petite-fille qui est si cute pis si bien
habillee, j'me dis que j'aurais peut-etre aime ca, moi aussi, geter des
petits-enfants, les catiner' (83). This is as close as any of the
Albertines comes to expressing a desire to love and care for others in a
nurturing relationship.

But Albertine a 70 ans is still thinking about marriage: ”Tant qu'a
ca, si j'avais pas marie un bouffon j'aurais peut-etre pas pense comme
j'pense“ (83). Her former attitudes are illustrated by Albertine e 40
ans, whose denunciations of men apply even to Alex: "y'est certainement
pas parfait,“ she tells Madeleine, “Ca se peut pas. C'est sur et
certain qu'y cache quequ'chose" (84). Taking exception to these
remarks, Albertine e 70 ans points out that no one is perfect, and warns
against making such judgments. Then, despite the objections of
Albertine e 40 ans, who calls Alex a "sans-dessein,” Albertine e 70 ans
declares that she was once interested in .Alex herself: "Y'etait sans-
dessein mais c'est ca qui faisait son charme... C'est vrai! On sentait
qu'y'etait pas dangereux, lui... Mais Madeleine a été plus vite que moi"
(85). As Albertine gains insight into earlier experiences, she realizes
that mutual love and respect, not roles, are the basis for a happy
marriage.

Albertine knows that her life was not without love, however, and
again thinks of Madeleine. Their brothers, Edouard and Gabriel, were
"ben fins," but Madeleine was 'la plus fine de la famille" (86). During

the 1960s, differences strained, but did not break, their relationship:

259

"Ah! on se voyait pas souvent depuis longtemps parce que t'avais pas
pris que j'tourne le dos e mes enfants, comme ca... meme si au fond
j'pense que tu comprenais... mais on s'etait remis a se telephoner,
juste pour se donner des nouvelles, au commencement, pis ensuite parce
qu'on avait eu envie de se revoir" (87). One of Albertine's happiest
memories is of the first day Madeleine came to see her at the restaurant
in Lafontaine Park. They had both changed so much in appearance that
they scarcely recognized each other, but they still loved each other as
before. A

No such expression of love and support was to be found in
Albertine's relationship to either her mother or her daughter. At forty,
she' had known that these "trois generations parfaites" were alike in
_their powerlessness and rage, but when at seventy she realizes that by
sharing their burdens, they could have reduced them, it is too late, for
by then her mother and Therese are both dead. Nevertheless, the problems
arising from the mother-daughter relationships are never far from
Albertine's thoughts in her struggles to understand what happened as
one generation succeeded the next. The memories of the older Albertines
are particularly revealing in explaining how a hertiage of dependence
culminated in self-destructiveness.

While Albertine's mother was alive, the three generations were
bound together in mutual dependence, but after her death, the
relationship between Albertine and Therese began to change. At first,
recalls Albertine a 60 ans, although "soulagee" to be relieved of her
mother's presence, she felt "debalancee," and her life seemed empty
(39). Then she realized what was missing: "c'tait ses bétises... pis ca

me manquait... parce qu'a' debloquait pus c'qu'y'avait en dedans de moi

260

comme avant!" (40). To fill the void, she said, "J'ai pris la place de
moman pis c'est Therese qui a herite des betises" (40). And so the
cycle continued; cruel remarks, intended to make the bearer suffer as
the speaker did, invited retaliation which inflicted fresh pain and
punishment.

Although the two mother-daughter relationships were sado-
masochistic, they were not identical. Albertine and her mother, both
widows, were not only emotionally dependent on each other, they also
depended on one another in practical matters, such as living
arrangements. As a result, they took out their frustrations on each
other, but were too insecure to break off their relationship entirely.
When her mother died, Albertine then tried to make Therese depend on her
as she had once depended on her mother, but failed. Her "betises"
undoubtedly diminished her daughter's self-esteem, but instead of
fostering the desired dependence, they provoked rebellion. Perceiving
Albertine as the primary obstacle to her happiness, Therese resisted her
mother's attempts to dominate her and left home. She quickly discovered
her weakness, and having no one but herself to blame, became
increasingly self-destructive. With less and less to live for, she may
even have goaded someone into murdering her.

Trying to obliterate the memory, Albertine e 60 ans nearly took her
own life, but now, ready to confront this final and devastating event,
Albertine. a 70 ans asks to hear it recounted aloud. She must do this,
she says, "Pour verifier... si mes souvenirs sont aussi effrayants que
je pense... pis pour recommencer a choisir' (95). There is, however,
nothing to diminish the horror. Her daughter, so weak and vulnerable

beneath her defiance, is dead. Who is responsible? Not men, as

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Albertine a 40 ans might say, and not a corrupt underworld, as was the
case in Sain;§_garmgn. Tooth Pick may have engineered her death, but the
important causes are related to a heritage which impedes human
development, and promotes weakness, dependency, and ultimately, self-
destructiveness.

Albertine too was weakened by this heritage, but thanks to the care
of the medical staff who ressuscitated her, detoxified her, and helped
her find a suitable place to live, she has more than survived. As she
tells Albertine a 60 ans, "Y vont te guerir de tout, sauf de tes
souvenirs..." (99). Albertine's memories are in fact incurable, but in
the course of regaining her physical strength, she has developed a
clearer sense of self. For decades, influenced by conventional social
definitions, Albertine had always felt inadequate. In the hospital,
however, society was not organizedto use her, but to serve her. Only
then did she discover her existence as an individual. She, not her role,
was important; her life was worth saving simply because she was a human
being. Contrary to what she had predicted forty years earlier, she was
not put in a cage with other old women and left to go mad, but was
encouraged to grow strong and take control of her life.

Taking control of her life, Albertine soon realized, did not mean
domination, as she once thought. Instead, control meant making choices
freely and independently according to her own values and judgments. But
before she could "recommencer a choisir," she had to know herself,
including those selves she preferred not to think about. During the
course of her conversations with the other Albertines, she has
discovered that beneath the authoritarian behavior which had been like a

second nature, there was also an inner self which had never been able to

262

make itself known. Furthermore, by listening, discussing, and
explaining, Albertine proves to her own satisfaction that she is now
able to confront former problems without resorting to the authoritarian
strategies she had used in the past. Nevertheless, there is no escaping
the consequences; she has been part of a society which, failing to
recognize the individuality and worth of its own members, all too often
destroyed the life which it meant to protect and nourish. Human freedom
offers the possibility of beginning to choose again, but it cannot
efface past choices or compensate for painful losses.

Perhaps Albertine has those losses in mind when she turns to
Madeleine and remarks, as if to console her sister for her premature
death: "De toute facon... Ca vaut pas la peine de vieillir" (100).
Madeleine makes her final exit without comment, leaving the five
Albertines alone.

At first, each woman thinks about her own immediate situation,
including Albertine e 70 ans. "A c't'heure, rien va se passer," she
muses, as if she had been hoping that some of her new neighbors might
pay a visit (101). ”Tent qu'e ca, c'est aussi ben de meme," she
continues, "Une femme vide devant une television vide dans une chambre
vide qui sent pas bon. (Silence.) C'est-tu ca qu'on appelle une vie
bien remplie?" (101). Looking up, she notices the moon. "Comme c'est
beau," she observes; then, as they all begin to reach up toward the
moon, she adds: ”Touchez-y... c'est pout-etre la meme" (102). In unison
the five women breathe "Haas..." -- "comme si elles avaient un contact
physique” (103). In the magic of the moment, Albertine a 70 ans is
restored and made whole. Exhausted by her examination of the past, she

had felt empty and lifeless. The sight of the moon, however, evokes a

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spontaneous response which assures Albertine of her individuality and of
her humanity as well. In tOuch with herself and with the world at
large, Albertine is no longer "tu-seule."

According to the stage directions, when the last word has been
uttered, "la lune, solitaire et rouge sang se leve," followed by "noir"
(103). This final disturbing image, the blood-red moon which Albertine
a 60 ans had described, emphasizes the tragic events in her life, and
warns that there will be moments when she needs every available bit of
strength, not only to endure her memories, but to continue making
genuine choices. Nevertheless, the worst is over; during the evening,
Albertine has faced a lifetime of doubts, fears, and guilt without
sacrificing her integrity. In the morning, after a night's sleep, she
will surely make choices that favor life. Opening her window to let in
some fresh air, she will arrange her belongings, and when that is done,
she may turn on the television to catch up on current events, or open
her door and introduce herself to the other residents in the Center.
Her past life cannot be called "bien remplie,” but she has renewed
contact with her younger selves, the selves whom she had once tried to
destroy. Now reunited, the five Albertines have become a complete,
integrated individual. Albertine knows and is herself; at last she is

strong and free.

Through the character of Albertine, Tremblay reviews the problem of
freedom and suggests that with help from society, even deeply ingrained
attitudes and self-images may be unlearned and replaced. At thirty,

Albertine feels caged and predicts that her confinement will eventually

264

become unbearable, but forty years later, as she moves into her room at
the Center, she has never felt freer. Although her choices are limited,
she is confident that she will be able to pursue some of her interests,
and live comfortably and with dignity. And because she has confidence
in her ability to cope with her problems, she looks forward to being
more self-directed than she has ever been before. Most important,
relieved of social pressure and strengthened by a new feeling of
personal worth, she examines her past, painful though it is, and
realizes that other choices have always been available. This discovery
carries with it the bitter knowledge that her life could have been
different, but also assures her that she is truly free, and can make new
choices in the future. By accepting each of the younger Albertines as
they were at the time, without abdicating her right to be the self-
directed person she has become, she achieves the ”possession de soi"

necessary for the exercise of personal freedom.

Notes

1 Michel Tremblay, Alberting‘_gn_§1ng_;gmp§ (Montreal: Leméac,l984)

15. All further references will be contained in the text.

265

 

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CONCLUSION

The Conquest, ending French control in Canada in 1763, followed by
the defeat of the Baggigggg seventy-five years later, made it impossible
for the descendants of French colonists to develop as an independent
nation. Fearing assimilation, French Canadians accepted Church
leadership and the policies which were developed to ensure "1a
survivance.‘ In the name of survival, the clergy strengthened the
already existing authoritarian, hierarchical social order, and called
for French Canadians to fulfill a God-given religious mission in North
America rather than seek the worldly wealth and power of their
neighbors. By the 1950s, people from many walks of life were beginning
to question Quebec's values and goals. Then came the Quiet Revolution,
and the transformation of a monolithic, theocratic society into a
pluralistic and secular one. During the 19703, independence was much
discussed, but in 1980 the proposal for Sovereignty-Association was
defeated at the polls. This was a set-back for separatists, but Quebec
has nonetheless continued to grow and develop as a distinct entity
within Canada.

Although Michel Tremblay supported the separatist movement, as a
playwright he focused on the meaning of personal freedom and ways of
achieving it within the existing political system. He began his
examination of Quebec's traditional society in mm, in

which he demythified the mere de famille, showing in her place alienated

266

267

women who saw themselves as having no choice but to continue roles which
they perceived as meaningless and personally unrewarding. The remedy
did not lie in revitalizing the myth of the Quebec mother, however, for
it had arisen to promote population growth, and in emphasizing the
woman's reproductive role, had gradually dehumanized her. In
dramatizing this situation, Tremblay showed that the emphasis on
specific roles for men and women reinforced couples' tendency to see
themselves and each other as objects, functions, or even as enemies.
Assuming that external forces controlled their lives, the l - u
not only accepted, but supported, the system which repressed
individuality and denied them any existence or purposes of their own.
Although they never ceased hoping for a stroke of good luck, they did
not believe that they could change their situation themselves. Escape
from the family to the Main was no solution either, for there too an
authoritarian system assigned roles and denied individual worth. Thus
the conformist society of the hellg§;§ggg;§ was part of a social order
which systematically weakened and dispossessed its members.

In £n_£1egg§_de§agheg§, the world of the hg11g§;§ggg;§ formed the
‘backdrop against which Tremblay portrayed the disintegration of a family
in the waning years of "la survivance." Tradition was still powerful,
even in the mid- to late 19503, discouraging the development of
individual potential and limiting choices of lifestyle and career. As
'her family collapsed around her, Robertine's response was "continuer."
Continuing was better than nothing, she told herself, which revealed how
little choice she thought she had. Her daughter, convinced that change
was possible, had rebelled, but soon became dependent on men who used

her for their own purposes. Marcel's obsession with returning home and

268

making a new start as part of a united, supportive family underscored
the need to rebuild society from its very foundations.

Tremblay broadened his analysis of role-playing in La_nughgg§g__gg
Langeais, showing that being able to choose and successfully perform a
role was not synonymous with freedom. The Duchesse had claimed to be
free because rather than disguise his homosexuality in conventional
society, he had joined a marginal society and established himself in a
feminine role of his own choice. Unlike his sister Robertine, who had
internalized her role as me;g_gg_fam111g, the Duchesse was aware of
role-playing; nevertheless, not until he experienced spontaneous love
did he acknowledge that he had used roles to conceal and repress the
person he had never dared reveal for fear of being rejected. In brief,
although he chose his roles, he was confined to role-playing; he never
felt free to express himself fully.

Nowhere did Tremblay portray confinement more vividly than in A
I21i_n2g:_§221921§‘_§§_fla§1§;L93, where characters described the family
in terms of imprisonment and entrapment. But perhaps the most
appropriate image was suggested by Marie-Louise, who called the family
"Une gang de tu-seuls ensemble" (90). Confined in separate, narrowly-
defined roles, she and Leopold had nothing in common but their desire to
be free of each other. Concluding that their relationship would never
improve, Leopold ended their lives. His one hope, that the attitudes
and beliefs which had governed their lives would not be perpetuated in
their daughters, was partially fulfilled. Ten years later, Manon still
identified with her mother, but Carmen, who understood that her parents'
decisbons did not reflect personal choice, had worked for and achieved

goals that were meaningful to her. Although being a western singer

269

required her to play a conventional role, it did not stifle her
individuality, and she was able to establish a personal relationship
with her audiences. She was the first Tremblay character who recognized
and refused the confinement of tradition, and chose instead a career
which enabled her to grow as an individual and become a participating
member of her community.

Dehumanizing though they were, traditional family roles were not
the only ones that prevented people from knowing and being themselves.
In Hosanna, Tremblay showed that the sex roles promoted by Hollywood
also interfered with genuine self-understanding. The protagonist
believed that he looked like a woman, and taking his cue from Hollywood
films, assumed that he had no assets but his looks, and no access to
power, except through sexual conquest. His unsuccessful attempt to
impersonate a celebrated actress led him to examine the images which he
and his lover had tried to create. He then realized that many social
distinctions between the sexes served no useful purpose, and often
inhibited the spontaneous expression of the inner self. Peeling away
the clothes, makeup, gestures, and vocabulary of sexual disquise,
Hosanna discovered a man whose career, if not ideal, allowed him to earn
a living without losing his self-respect; a man who shared his life with
someone he loved and who loved him; a man who was ready to free himself
from gender roles and simply be himself.

In fignjgu;‘_1§‘_hgnigur, Tremblay depicted the transformation of a
father and son relationship. Inhibited by the tradition of the
authoritarian father, Gabriel did not express his feelings to his
family. Once he and Serge had acknowledged their mutual affection,

however, they were able to behave unself-consciously, and offer each

270

other understanding and support. The father, who had been absent,
collapsed, or self-destructive in previous plays, was thus restored as a
wise, loving, non-authoritarian figure. The aunts, who reflected the
legacy of survivalism, and the married sisters, who exemplified the
values of the modern consumer society, were alike in their dependence.
They were manipulators who took little, if any, responsibility for their
own lives. Because of their irresponsibility, Tremblay implied, they,
not the incestuous brother and sister, were the ones who were genuinely
immoral.

The first character to reappear in a major role was Carmen, whose
transformation from popular entertainer into socially committed artist
was depicted in W. While studying with musicians
in the States, Carmen discovered unsuspected beauty and meaning in her
music. She also gained fresh insight into the lives of the dispossessed
inhabitants of the Main, and composed a song to assure them of their
worth. Her listeners were inspired with new hope and confidence, but
before they could begin to rebuild their lives, Carmen was killed. Her
replacement was a singer whose music and words from another culture
provided distraction, but did not offer a vision of change. This play
might have been seen as a Greek tragedy or as a Christian drama.
Instead, it was apparently seen as an unduly pessimistic reflection of
the situation in modern Quebec. The play had much to recommend it, but
it did not match the mood of Quebec audiences, who in 1976 had never
felt less oppressed or more independent.

The problem of freedom was less clearly defined in W

W than in previous plays. Each of the two black and white

characters claimed to have found the solution to life's problems, Manon

271

in religion, Sandra in sex, and refused to consider any other options in
life. Their personal rituals were not as satisfying as they once had
been, however, and as they sought to intensify their experiences, each
one revealed an awareness, even need, of the other. But despite all
they had in common, they perceived themselves as distinctly separate
entities--body and spirit, sex and religion. Their shared ecstasy, and
the suggestion of reconciliation, were quickly dissipated by the
revelation that they had been invented by Michel. With this Tremblay
left the problem of dualism still unresolved, and invited playgoers to
reflect instead on the problem of the playwright's freedom to
communicate with his audience.

With Manon, Tremblay announced that the cycle of Lg§__§g11g§;§ggu;§
had come to an end. Criticisms of his work-~that he was parochial and
repetitive--undoubtedly influenced his decision to leave the theatre for
a while, but did not deter him from the project he had begun: a novel
which would show the background of the characters in his plays, and thus
serve as the genesis of his theatre.1 As the novel grew into a series,
Tremblay seemed more convinced than ever that he would continue to be
inspired by the neighborhood of his youth, whether he wrote novels or
‘plays. ”J'ai vraiment l'impression, apres avoir essaye toutes sortes
d'affaires, que je suis ne pour perpetuer une rue," he commented in
1980.2

Tremblay was not new to fiction-writing, but he admitted that the
change from writing for the theatre had been his ”choc culturel" of the

3 Nevertheless, he welcomed the opportunity to talk

late seventies.
dil-I'ectly to the reader; as narrator, he could express his own ideas and

oPenily’reveal his affection for his characters. The novel seemed to make

272

possible a personal, intimate relationship with the individual reader:
"J'ai vraiment l'impression qu'au theetre on est 1a pour crier des
affaires au monde et que quand t'ecris un roman tu racontes une histoire
a l'oreille de ton meilleur ami.“l‘ The playwright who had intended his
first major play as a 'claque sur la gueule" was clearly trying to
communicate in a different way.

In renewinglhis writing, Tremblay did more than adopt a different
tone and “parler de' tendresse."5 He deepened his knowledge of family
roles and relationships. In his novels, he was no longer trying to
"explode" the family unit,6 but to explain how the vicious circle of
dependency and confinement had developed. When AW
opened in 1984, Tremblay acknowledged that writing the novels, which
were set mainly in the forties, had helped him better understand the
characters in his plays7 Certainly no previous play gave such careful
attention to the influence of one generation on the next, or to the way
social and psychological pressures led to dependence, madness, and self-
destructive behavior. However, “hexane also reflected for the first
time a supportive society which helped strengthen individuals and
encouraged them to exercise personal freedom.

Mm depicted a woman's struggle to reunite her divided self
by resolving repressed inner conflicts that had been accumulating for
years. Nothing had prepared Albertine for life, and at thirty, she was
already having serious problems raising her children in conformity with
neighborhood standards. Her authoritarian behavior only worsened the
situation. For this, she was considered a bad mother by a society that

was itself authoritarian. Furthermore, it offered no help for her

retarded son, no choice of careers for her daughter, and no treatment

273

for her daughter's alcoholism. After enjoying a brief period of
liberation, Albertine discovered that she had failed to distinguish
between affective bonds and internalized bondage to duty. Judging
herself as severely as society did, she became self-destructive. Her
cure began with the good care she received in the hospital. For the
first time in her life, instead of being blamed and made to feel guilty,
she was encouraged to lead as independent a life as possible. Instead
of being taught to obey, she was taught to choose. The health services
represented only one segment of society, but nevertheless they acted on
behalf of society to promote individual well-being and freedom, rather
than conformity to social norms.

Alhexeine thus represents significant progress toward freedom, not
only because a once-alienated individual achieves selfhood, but because
it is achieved with the help of a supportive society. Until she was
fifty, Albertine was not strong enough to seriously question the
fundamental roles assigned to men and women. During the sixties,
Albertine became more independent, but collapsed after her daughter's
death. Society had no help to offer except medication to dull the pain.
During the seventies, the Tremblay characters who became liberated did
so by breaking the social code or defying authority. Only as non-
conformists could they find happiness and self-fulfillment. Finally, in
1982, society made possible a character's recovery of self; it was a
small but important step toward freedom.

Writing in 1941, social psychologist Erich Fromm described the kind
of supportive environment which some forty years later was to help

Albertine become strong enough to take possession of her self and her

life:

274

The victory of freedom is possible only if democracy develops
into a society in which the individual, his growth and
happiness, is the aim and purpose of culture, in which life
does not need any justification in success or anything else,
and in which the individual is not subordinated to or
manipulated by any power outside of himself, be it the State
or the economic machine; finally a society in which his
conscience and ideals are not the internalization of external
demands, but are really big and express the aims that result
from the peculiarity of his self.
The goal which Fromm describes here is the goal toward which Tremblay's
theatre has progressed in the fiellee;fieee;e cycle. Beginning with
authoritarian characters in an authoritarian society, where no one could
imagine self as separate from social definitions, Tremblay went on to
portray characters who chose to exercise freedom despite the risk of
social rejection. Then, in Aleezeine, society helped an individual
overcome her feeling of powerlessness and take initiative in managing
her own life. "The victory of freedom is possible,” even in a society
which had a tradition of authoritarianism.

A final reading of AIDQISLDE concludes this study of the theme of
freedom; it focuses on the parallels between Albertine's erratic
progress toward freedom and that of Quebec itself.

In 1942 the feeling of helplessness was pervasive. Albertine felt
powerless to help her daughter escape servitude in the male-dominated
system. Similarly, French Canadians strongly opposed conscription, but
nonetheless found themselves obliged to accept military service under
the king who symbolized their own conquest. A decade later, authority
was more often contested, but it was also enforced in increasingly
repressive ways. In response to her children's non-conformity,
Albertine redoubled her efforts to enforce the prevailing social code.

The result, however, was not conformity but alienation. During this

period, Quebec's major institutions also became more repressive as

275

social and economic problems continued to mount in an atmosphere of
resentment, fear, and despair.

During the Quiet Revolution, when Albertine discovered the immense
satisfaction of managing her own life, Quebec, under new leadership,
took charge of matters once controlled by others (the Church, the
federal government, foreign investors, English Canadians). And much
like Albertine, some Quebecois, in their zeal to liberate themselves and
make a fresh start, felt justified in pushing aside any obstacle to
immediate, personal freedom. Then came the 1970 October crisis, when a
hostage was killed by FLQ terrorists, and Canada's Prime Minister, a
French Canadian, sent federal troops to maintain order in Quebec.
Opinion was divided, but many, concluding that the FLQ had behaved
irresponsibly in the struggle for freedom, abandoned all thought of
independence, and supported policies of law and order. This reaction
was not unlike Albertine's guilt and self-destructiveness after
Therese's death.

The failure of the Sovereignty-Association proposal to win support
in 1980 was a final blow to separatists, but by then Quebec's
institutions and economy had undergone such a far-reaching
transformation that even without political independence, Quebec was in a
position to direct its internal affairs more completely than ever
before. It was also able to make its voice heard in Canada and in
economic and cultural relations with other nations as well. Thus while
not in agreement as to what was the best choice, the Quebecois held fast
to their right to choose. The play's final image, the rising blood-red
moon, lends itself to a variety of interpretations; such ambiguity is

disconcerting, but not inappropriate. Whatever the future holds, there

276

is reason to believe that solidarity and unity of pupose will give

Quebec the strength it needs to exercise freedom.

Notes

1 See text 4-5.

2 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Michel Tremblay" une société qui
s'éveille,‘ by Yves Taschereau, A££B£11£é avril 1978: 17.

3 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Du TheAtre au roman," 1980,
Ee;1231ne__eeneemne;eine, Tome 3, by Jean Royer (Montreal: Editions de
Hexagone, 1985) 73.

4 Tremblay, interview by Royer 73.

5 Michel Tremblay, interview, "Michel Tremblay et la mémoire
collective," by Donald Smith, Lettrss_suebecsisea automne 1981: 55.

6 See text 132. i

7 Robert Levesque, "Michel Tremblay, le dramaturge," Mei; 10
nov. 1984:31.

8 Erich Fromm, Eeeene_£;en_£;eeeem (1941; New York: Discus-Avon,

1965) 297.

277

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