Theatre review: Émilie Monnet's Okinum mesmerizes in a spiritual journey
The interdisciplinary artist’s performance at PuSh Festival draws on Anishinaabe teachings
Émilie Monnet, Okinum. Photo by Espace Go
PuSh Festival presents Okinum to February 5 online (reviewed in-person at The Anvil Theatre)
IMMERSING THE AUDIENCE in a dreamlike state between the spiritual realm and reality, Okinum consists of circular storytelling methods grounded in Anishinaabe teachings to create a vivid, multisensory experience. Written and performed by Émilie Monnet, founder of Onishka Productions, the work reflects the interdisciplinary artist’s spiritual connection to her Anishinaabe and Algonquin ancestors through a series of recurring dreams. It’s mesmerizing.
In Okinum, which is performed in English, French, and Anishinaabemowin, Monnet recounts her dream of a giant beaver that comes to offer her spiritual guidance during a turbulent period of her life. Taking its name for the Anishinaabemowin word for beaver dam, Okinum examines the multilayered symbolism of the animal and the interpretive journey that Monnet’s visions awaken within her.
Monnet shares various metaphors throughout the show, from the beaver dam representing the spiritual blockages she faces to the commodification of the animal’s pelts symbolizing violence against Indigenous women. By connecting with the creature and making sense of the ancestral wisdom her dreams hold, Monnet reaches a state of greater spiritual clarity.
Upon entering the theatre, viewers are greeted with the medicinal, smoky scent of sweetgrass. Featuring a theatre-in-the-round format with set design by Simon Guilbault, Okinum offers an intimate setting that seems to transcend space and time. Contributing to the immersive environment are interdisciplinary elements such as Clark Ferguson’s video recordings of birch-bark biting (an artform of dentally perforating designs onto folded sheets of birch bark) and audio clips of elders speaking Anishinaabemowin, which give the impression that Monnet’s ancestors are speaking to her directly. Monnet is surrounded by Lucie Bazzo’s intense lighting, which travels from vibrant displays of colour into darkness. At one point, awash in a cascade of warm orange and jarring fluorescent white light, Monnet dons a brown bodysuit that vaguely resembles a beaver’s pelt.
Throughout the performance, Monnet turns to address the audience from all different parts of the stage, retelling her visions in three languages while adding more context, weaving through dreams, reality, and internal reflections. The result is an embodied experience that changes depending on where the viewer is sitting. Her insights take on greater depth with the score (performed live by sound designer Jackie Gallant), which features guttural cries of animals, the babbling of a stream, and a rumbling distant rainstorm. Monnet seems to purge herself of her inner blockages as she moves wildly across the stage and, during the performance’s most intense moments, cries out in song and touches the tears that flow down her face.
Through the solo’s nonlinear vignettes, Monnet masterfully shares Anishinaabe storytelling methods. The powerful performance awakens in Monnet a sense of spiritual lucidity. It also acts as a testament to the potency of ancestral connections and teachings, which extend beyond a single lifetime.
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