Acclaimed Quebec actress Sylvie Drapeau takes center stage in "Tableau d'une exécution," a compelling theatrical production that explores the complex relationship between artistic freedom and patronage through the story of a rebellious female painter. After her memorable performance as an acrimonious critic in Rebekka Kricheldorf's "Mademoiselle Agnès" in 2022, Drapeau now embodies an artist character driven by her unique vision of art and consumed by the exhilaration of transgressing rules and deceiving the expectations of her patrons.
The play, written by prolific British author Howard Barker in 1990 and translated by French translator Jean-Michel Déprats, centers around a Venetian warrior-like figure loosely inspired by baroque painter Artemisia Gentileschi. This powerful female character confronts official powers, specifically those wielded by men and money. The production is directed by Michel Monty and is currently running at the Rideau Vert theater through October 25th.
The central conflict emerges when the Doge of Venice, a pompous figure who prides himself on his knowledge of pictorial art, commissions Galactia to create a monumental work commemorating the victory at the Battle of Lepanto. However, instead of glorifying martial heroism as expected, the artist's fresco illustrates the shameless violence of these confrontations and their devastation by crudely exposing fragments and quarters of human flesh. The painter aspires to evoke "revulsion" in her audience, deliberately challenging conventional expectations of commemorative art.
While the play addresses important themes about artistic freedom from funding authorities and women's liberation from imposed societal images, the production suffers from pacing issues that dilute its impact. The discourse stretches to the point of becoming diffuse, weighed down by considerations about criticism that are superimposed on the main narrative. These critiques are conveyed through a confusing figure in a pantsuit who initially seems to belong to our contemporary era, offering explanatory commentary on Galactia's work, but then infiltrates the main story set in the 16th century without changing costume.
The costume design creates an intriguing temporal blend that serves the play's thematic purposes. Galactia's daughter and colleague wears overalls and a shirt, while the admiral whom the artist must sublimate on her canvas displays a uniform reminiscent of both 19th-century European armies and the Nazi regime. The protagonist appears dressed in period attire, while her counterpart, the Doge, showcases stylistic research that defies temporal categorization, thanks to costume designer Pierre-Guy Lapointe. This amalgamation of different eras aims to illustrate that the power relationships between creators and those who finance creation remain unchanged across centuries.
The production's greatest strength lies in its central character, a woman riddled with paradoxes who combines arrogance, genius, and pusillanimity. Although audiences must adjust to the very serious tone and raspy timbre that Drapeau brings to her voice, the masterful interpreter proves perfectly suited to give body and soul to this complex individual. Jean-Moïse Martin's composition as the Doge strikes the right balance, portraying a character who is simultaneously precious and narcissistic yet genuinely enamored with pictorial art in his own way, providing just enough comedy to elicit smiles without falling into excess.
The technical aspects of the production create a visually stunning experience that serves as a magnificent showcase for the performances. Admirably fluid scene changes transport the audience from the palace, an opulent room adorned with classical painting, to the artist's workshop, which transforms with equal efficiency into a prison. The set consists of a pivoting two-story wooden structure whose upper level recalls a ship's bridge, an effect enhanced by wave projections created by Gaspard Philippe.
Philippe's imagery, particularly the details of Galactia's sketches, skillfully complements Olivier Landreville's magnificent scenography without overstatement, making "Tableau d'une exécution" a visual work in its own right. The seamless integration of these technical elements creates an immersive theatrical experience that enhances rather than overshadows the central performances and themes of artistic rebellion and creative independence.
