This Is Not a Review of Personal Jesus

I feel bad writing a review of Gaétan Nadeau’s Personal Jesus. I really shouldn’t. It’d be like if I reviewed a show in a language I don’t even understand. I’m not talking about Québécois French, which I’m obviously more than familiar with; in fact, Nadeau and I share a similar background as we are both the sons of farmers from rural Québec.

What I don’t understand is storytelling. You heard me. I know it’s not the most common affliction. It’s probably the reason why I’m so obsessed with contemporary dance, which better satisfies my need for non-narrative. I don’t get stories. Their meaning always seems so contrived, so dependent on human intervention – rather than emerging naturally – that they end up coming across as utterly meaningless to me.

The worst is television, the most story-driven of all media. I haven’t been able to get into a TV show in years. “Tune in next week to find out what happens…” Why? I don’t even care to find out what happens in the episode I’m watching right now. The only TV show I’ve been able to get through in the past four years has been the brilliant NYC Prep, if only because it’s the most anti-climactic series I’ve been able to find on television. It’s like Gossip Girl if you got rid of all the storylines. Amazing.

Even though I adore my friends, I realize this affliction must make me a pretty shitty human being in their eyes. If any of them tells me a story that lasts more than a minute, my mind just goes somewhere else. I’m not even sure where it goes. I probably just start thinking about food. Mmm… food. Anyway, then I realize they’re still talking and I haven’t been listening to anything they’ve been telling me, so I force myself to pay attention again while I also try to fill the holes in the story. If I can’t pull it off and it sounds like I might actually be semi-interested in what they had to say, I’ll ask them to repeat everything they just said. And then my mind goes off again.

To me, all stories sound like that scene at the end of No Country for Old Men, the one where Tommy Lee Jones tells his wife about the dream he had like it’s so fucking deep he can barely stand it. I fucking hate that scene! So fucking stupid. Tell it to your analrapist.

To get back to Personal Jesus, whenever Nadeau would share a story with us – something that happens often given that it’s an autobiographical one-man show – the question that kept popping in my head was “Why is this life experience supposed to be meaningful?” Unable to find an answer, I would begin to think about how I wanted to go to the bathroom or what I was going to eat later. If unlike me you’re into stories and you’re curious to know what I did end up having, the answer is cookies and beer.

You can catch Personal Jesus at Théâtre La Chapelle at 8pm every night until Saturday, December 19. Tickets are 25$, 20$ for students. For more information, visit www.lachapelle.org or call 514.843.7738.