At the Théâtre de la Porte-Saint-Martin, in Paris, Catherine Hiegel turns “the loving servant” into a formidable war machine

The loving Servant or The Loving Servant ? The title doesn’t click in French. It is therefore displayed in Italian on the pediment of the Théâtre de la Porte-Saint-Martin, in Paris, where Catherine Hiegel stages with firmness and clairvoyance the play by the Venetian author Carlo Goldoni (1707-1793). In this show where the laughter does not devalue the political significance of the subject, Coraline is not a “loving servant”. Moreover, Isabelle Carré, who plays the title role, is less a skilled maid than a formidable war machine whose project is stated in her first lines: “The best thing you can do to your enemies is to suffer with constancy, to laugh with indifference and to show them that you know and that you can do without them.”, states in a programmatic preamble, the one which, three acts later, will conclude alone in front of the public: “Long live our sex. And whoever dares to speak ill of it dies. »

Between these two offensive tirades lies a fascinating comedy which, under the guise of recounting a family imbroglio against the backdrop of a despoiled inheritance, anticipates the time of great revolutions. In 1762, ten years after creating his piece, Goldoni moved to France. 1789 is approaching. Did he sense it? On the plateau, the historical anchoring is not hidden, but it remains discreet. Faded colors of the facades, faded interiors of the houses, the scenography is an assumed vestige of the 18th century^e century. Space is not naturalistic but mental. The action that is taking place only exists in Coraline’s head. A woman who could have made a revolution but is content to bring order to chaos. Everything in its time, seems to indicate the representation of Catherine Hiegel.

What is happening? Young Florindo was thrown out of his home by his stepmother Beatrice (Hélène Babu), second wife of his father, Ottavio, a rich merchant from Verona. The stepmother covets the inheritance of the house for herself and her own son, Lélio. You have to love money, we say, to endure life with a senile old man played, with many mutterings (submitted or chosen?), by the actor Jackie Berroyer. Draped in her corseted dresses, her feet sliding across the floor with the skill of a snake, Hélène Babu has those dark looks that would strike an opponent on the spot. To his credit, a diabolical tactical sense against which men are no match. Even detestable, it imposes. Only a woman manages to defeat her. It is Coraline, servant, attendant, servant, maid, in short, subordinate here elevated to the rank of alter ego of the powerful.

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