A sub-Arctic and dark night of January. A dark, freezing winter night made in Quebec. Incisive. No car, no manhole sewer, no human breathing which not smoking like a chimney, in this minus 40 Celsius (-30 F). An Arctic night where even a faintest breathing would saw up your lungs. My husband and I had dinner downtown to avoid to return trip Montreal-Laval. Getting near the Denise-Pelletier theater, no parking space of course, we had to go around the block three times to finally get one. Then we ran to the theater on the crunchy snow. The Siberian air was chocking me.

There was a crowd at the door. Young people, under 40. My brother got me the tickets, assuring me that they were very good seats. I trusted him because sometimes he is able of doing miracles. We both believe in fairy tales. So, again, he did a very good job, as we were seating on the fifth row and right in the middle. The stage was at eyes level. Perhaps, I do exaggerate a little but it is true we were in a perfect spot. The hall being of a good size with over 800 seats.

After taking off my coat and folding it on my knees, I have started to glance at the NTC program. But I was very exited by everything around me as the hall was packed. So I then decided to look at the stage and sets. It was a large stage, with all around it, like a picture frame, drawings of Californian scenes and landscapes, a similar feeling of what you see before landing in Los Angeles. The San Gabriel mountains, the residential areas with their swimming pools. All nine scenes take place on the same set: a kitchen ( reminding me of the atmosphere of my childhood) and a adjoining alcove. The kitchen (stage left) consists of a sink, surrounded by counter space, a wall telephone and a fridge. In the alcove (stage right) there is chairs, a table with an old Royal typewriter on it and a candlestick with a candle. Lights were dimmed at 8 PM sharp. Norman Helms who was playing the role of the young script-writer's brother, sat down, lit up the candle and started to write. Roy was standing on the left side in the shadow and was watching him.

Altought it was dark, I could very well see him. He looked taller because he was wearing a long coat. One of those beautiful long coats worn by western cowboys, very long leather vest which make your body look taller and slim. Wearing shirt and jeans, he looked just like an American bum. His haircut was not too long and a bit curly. Roy was at this special moment at the apex of his career. In Québec, Scoop a most popular Tv series locally was in this third season. Three quarter of the audience were saturated with women unconditionnals, they sat silent like in a church, respectful and I was on the same level as them having the same strong feeling of love that was linking the audience to this man standing in the shadow. You could almost touch this invisible moment. A taught went through my mind. Do people who possess such a great attraction know how much pleasure they are able to convey to others by only being there ? Well...let’s go back to play.

A good story on Cain and Abel theme. It reminded me of East of Eden. Very American, manly, with no real female presence except for Mrs Sutto playing the mother. The big role, Cain, that is Lee was played by Roy. Norman playing his brother was more subtle and generous, leaving all the space for Roy to fill it naturally and easiness. As if Norman was happy to fade away and share the stage with him. Roy was the physically and theatrically brilliant.

All alone being luminous and wrapped up in gold. His green eyes changing to blue in the spotlights. Sculptural , his chest naked during the last scenes.

 The part was really made for him. Out of the bush, or out of the desert in this case, he was impatient, quick, ready for a fight, cut from a block, without refinement. He resembles his absent father, neglected by his mother and love thirsty.
The scene where his brother tries to kill him while the mother is watching helplessly proves this argument. That scene was as tense as the one of the axes in Un oiseau vivant dans la gueule. The two brothers lying on the floor, Roy on his back while Norman on top of him, Roy’s profile right in my sight ; I recall that I was scared for him for a second or two, when Norman has tightening up the telephone cord around his neck to strangle him. He was unable to free himself from Austin’s hold, his look had gone mad, his jugular protruded, pulsating, Hypnotized by the look of his vein ready to burst and caught up in the magic of theater I almost whispered : « Can anyone do something to help him ». Brigitte Haentjens who also directed Un oiseau vivant dans la gueule, has mastered the Art of getting him out in a rage and for me to believe it. So fragile and strong. Just like we can imagine Cain, the curse son.

He was outstanding, gorgeous. One hour and forty-five minutes later, the curtain went down. It was over. When the actors came back to take a bow, we were facing each other. I was clapping hands but also thinking how ridiculous this gesture was to thank them for so much generosity. Had I listened to my heart I would have climbed up to the stage and thrown myself in his arms to thank him from the bottom of my heart. How much pleasure he gave us, and he must have been pleased himself. Nobody gets on the stage without love and passion. A pleasure to play a part, and also the contact of others. It is a kind of osmosis. On one side, a fool under the lights that gives out everything he has and on the other side a bunch of people, sitting in the dark, anonymous, attentive and eager to receive their share of dream. It is even a greater feeling when you see your favorite actor or actress. It is like meeting a friend you see rarely and have so much to tell each other. You must hurry up and it gets very intensive. Recently, I came across an interview given by Roy where he was speaking about rehearsals and he was saying how much he enjoyed them and how much you can miss them if you are not on the stage and how glad he was to get back on it. As far as I am concerned, I can add, that little poor me, also feel sad when he is away from the stage. He makes me believe that can and must be true universe and I hope that time will bring him back on the stage, so we can share again more privileged moments. The passport for a magic world, a make-believe reality...

We left the theater walking out slowly, our heads full of his voice, enlightened by him, leaving the warmth of the hall with a sincere regret. Outside it was freezing, a few degrees lower than when we came in. Fortunately, I was warmed up by a demon with green eyes, who had been again true to his great talent.