The themes of memory and theatre have always
been closely connected, primarily because
theatre is probably the form of expression that
best embodies collective memory.
So it’s normal that cognitive decline and
dementia are themes that are, at the very
least, troubling for an actor.
In a more pragmatic way, memory is strongly
tied to theatre because those practicing it must
put a lot of effort into memorization.
I never would have guessed that the
exploration of personal memory I embarked
on to create this show would lead me to the
complexities of the class struggle and identity
crisis of 1960s-era Quebec. It’s as though the
most distant memories of personal events are
incomplete if they don’t take into account the
social context in which they happened. This
show is, therefore, not the discourse of an
adult promoting a cause but rather a journey
into a pre-adolescent’s memory, where the
political and the poetic are often conflated.
When an actor makes his or her first onstage
debut, aren’t the first comments after the
premiere usually “You’ve got a great memory!”
or “How did you learn all those lines?”
►► ROBERT LEPAGE
The proof is that, throughout history, the first
thing a totalitarian regime does to ensure the
eradication of a culture is to burn the books—
an act that’s usually followed by killing the
singers, the storytellers and the actors who
carry the living memory of songs, poems and
theatrical works.
887 is, for me, a humble attempt to delve into
a history with a small “h” to better understand
the one with the big “H.”