A room in a sauna. A guy gets high, hooks up with other guys. This poetic and evocative monologue, Ces regards amoureux de garçons altérés, written by Éric Noël, performed by Gabriel Szabo, and directed by Philippe Cyr, will soon be hitting the stage at Théâtre Prospero. Chemsex—Éric Noël knows it. He wrote this text during a period of wandering, between hope and hopelessness. No euphemisms, no evasions—a deep dive to escape others, to escape oneself. And maybe, to recognize oneself?
What is the origin of this text?
Éric Noël: It’s a text I wrote several years ago, a piece I had read, and it took ten years to get produced. Of course, there was also the pandemic, and Philippe Cyr and I had long dreamed of bringing it to the stage. It’s finally happening.
Is it autofiction?
Éric Noël: I’ve never hidden that, but I’ve also never formally claimed it. Watching the play, there’s no doubt the writer knows what he’s talking about. I can’t hide it. I take plenty of liberties, but it is inspired by my own past with chemsex. I began it like the character in the play—after a breakup. That was the trigger, but it also sparked the writing because I was in pain.
When I began writing it in 2014, those were the years of heavy use. That’s when I started taking crystal meth. It was just after the run of my play Faire des enfants at Théâtre Quat’Sous in 2011. The day after the final performance, more or less without planning it. What’s funny is people who had seen the play assumed I was using drugs to write it—but I wasn’t. I was in a space of fantasy and imagination. In truth, I was very eager to explore that world. Then came a painful breakup, and I began using heavily—and I couldn’t create anymore. Autofiction came naturally, because the only thing I could write about was what I was living.
But perhaps the writer’s instinct kicked in, too?
Éric Noël: Yes, I’ve always had that instinct. The structure came quickly—I’ve always fantasized about structure, and that part has always come easily. So the idea of a man locked in a sauna room for several days, speaking to us from there, imposed itself. I wrote a first draft in just a few weeks, and then reworked it—but it really came in a single breath, and part of it was written while using. I’m very glad I wrote it, but I also know I couldn’t write it again, because the Éric I was then no longer exists.
It’s a fragment, a snapshot of my life, the mindset I was in—and I think it can resonate with many people. It may seem simple—a monologue—but it moves between the days the character spends in the sauna and the months he spent with a man, and their breakup. It plays with mirrors. There’s an alternation, a multiplicity, an intensity—of encounters, of drug use, of sex in the sauna, and of romantic, emotional feelings. I’d even say it’s quite classic—a love story told to an audience. It may be my most romantic play.
The piece was read publicly—what were the first reactions?
Éric Noël: It was read at the Festival du Jamais Lu […] and in Strasbourg. At first, I didn’t think it would be selected, but I remember Marcelle Dubois, the former director of Jamais Lu, told me she was deeply moved by the story of someone escaping their life—someone completely unmoored. No matter what causes that, everyone can relate to that. Whereas I thought it would only interest a small segment of our communities.
You’ve read this text several times, but you won’t be performing it?
Éric Noël: I love the piece, but I’m glad I’m not performing it, for one simple reason. It was originally going to be staged in 2017, and at that time, it would’ve been very hard for me to be in the media, in front of the public—especially since I was still using. Today, I feel much calmer presenting it, and I can focus on the staging choices. I’m detached, in a good way. I don’t get too involved. That distance is good for me. After the first public reading at Jamais Lu, I immediately thought: never again.
At the time, of course, people around me knew I wasn’t doing well, but they had no idea what I was really going through. The reading forced me to talk about it, and it pushed me toward healing. But at the same time, I was putting myself in danger—because right after that first reading, I ran off with my stash in my backpack. There was no distance between what I had just done—reading the text—and the reality I was living. If I had had that distance, I might not have had the courage to expose myself like that. Thankfully, I was unconscious enough to do it. I remember trembling as I walked off stage, wondering what I had just done. And when reworking the text, even ten years later, thinking I was detached, I realized it could still be painful. So there’s no way I could perform it on stage for three weeks straight.
Éric Noël: What interests me is what chemsex reveals—about us, about our relationships. For me, it met a need, and it did what it needed to do. I think I had things I needed to resolve, and chemsex happened because things weren’t going well. It’s a bit of a cliché, but we know drugs aren’t the problem—they’re a “solution.” Drugs fix something temporarily. I went all the way with that solution, and when it stopped working, I had to face the things I didn’t want to see in myself.
What’s striking is that the piece isn’t trying to be educational—it doesn’t aim to warn us about the dangers of chemsex. It’s far from documentary theater.
The character says that—he talks about his relationship and how he wanted to be thrown out of it, to justify tearing down the wall between himself and crystal meth. There was also a desire for danger, the lure of transgression. I think I unconsciously sought that out.
This is a translation of an interview conducted in French
INFOS | Ces regards amoureux de garçons altérés. April 8 to May 3, 2025 at Théâtre Prospero.Written by: Éric Noël. Directed by: Philippe Cyr. Performed by: Gabriel Szabo
Extra performances: April 29 to May 3, 2025
https://theatreprospero.com– Ces regards amoureux de garçons altérés, by Éric NoëlPublished by: Leméac, 2025 https://theatreprospero.com
