FRANCO FRY OR PARDON MY FRENCH
Directed by David Kaye; written by Susan Poulin; songs and music by Gordon
Carlisle
With: Susan Poulin, Gordon Carlisle
At McDonough Street Studio in Portsmouth, New Hampshire
From March 21 to April 12, 2003
Reviewed by Laurie Meunier Graves
The imaginary homeland is itself homeless. There’s no home except in the
mind, where ideas of home are grown…There’s no safe place from the injuries
of history…But the poet doesn’t recover the bitter past to serve present
grudges—his acts of remembering, his quest for identity are grounded in
generosity.
—Marina Warner
What does it mean to be a Franco-American in Maine and indeed in New
England? The French came to North America before the Pilgrims and have lived
here for hundreds of years. Yet, in New England, Franco-Americans have
almost been a ghost-presence, here to work in the factories and to be
ridiculed (or even worse), yet invisible in so many ways. For too long,
their stories have been composed by others who were, to say the least,
unsympathetic. However, as a Franco-American, I am happy to report that this
is starting to change. We are finding our voice. We are starting to tell our
own stories.
In Franco Fry or Pardon My French, Susan Poulin examines what it is
to be Franco-American. She also explores the notion of home and the
importance of language. She does this with the generosity of a true poet,
but paradoxically is slower to extend the generosity to herself than she is
to others. She stopped speaking French, her first language, when she was
three, and the show deals with her efforts, at times humorous, at other
times sad and moving, to relearn French. Because she stopped speaking French
at such a young age, relearning the language is not as easy as she imagines
it will be (but then, such things are always easier in our imaginations).
She takes a class at the local university; she hires a tutor so that she can
have individual instruction; she tries hypnosis. Nothing seems to work, and
her frustration with herself grows deeper and deeper. When Ms. Poulin
resorts to learning French via a CD on the computer and winds up resenting
not only the happy family featured on the box, but also their cat, we sense
she is at a low, turning point.
Interwoven with Ms. Poulin’s failed attempts to learn French are stories of
her parents and her grandparents; of the life they lived in Jackman, “the
Switzerland of Maine”; of life in the woods; of close ties with Canada; of
owning a store; of sparkling clean floors; of molasses cookies. All these
stories come together to form a mosaic of a culture that Ms. Poulin feels
she has lost, and they, along with the loss of the French language, cause an
ache that is nearly unbearable. In addition, she gives us a history of
Franco-Americans. By the time the play is over, she has braided this history
with her personal story and with her forebears’ stories to give an impression
of a vibrant culture that has changed through the years but is still very
much alive.
Those in the audience who are familiar with Ms. Poulin’s other shows, the
hilarious Ida: Woman Who Runs With the Moose and the equally funny
Spousal Deafness…and Other Bones of Contention, are in for a surprise.
Gone are the ribald humor and the deep belly laughs. While there are
humorous moments—and many of them are supplied by Gordon Carlisle, who
produces sound affects, plays the guitar, and sings with Ms. Poulin—Franco
Fry, is at heart, a serious performance. It combines the specific with
the universal, and Ms. Poulin’s fine performance will resonate not only with
Franco-Americans but also with people from any background.
In the end, Ms. Poulin’s search and struggles form a quest that stretches
back to ancient times. It is a quest that will never end, and each
generation will look for an answer. But that, too, is part of the story. E.B.
White wrote of Stuart Little, his mouse protagonist in the book of the same
name: “Stuart’s journey symbolizes the continuing journey that everybody
takes—in search of what is perfect and unattainable.”
Mice, men, women, and even Franco-Americans all search with the same longing
and intensity. In Franco Fry, Ms. Poulin chronicles this quest, and we can
only wish her good luck on her journey as we reflect on our own.
