The following is a transcript of part of President Obama’s speech in Hiroshima, Japan, as recorded by The New York Times. MAY 27, 2016.

Text

President Obama’s Speech in Hiroshima, Japan

Seventy-one years ago, on a bright cloudless morning, death fell from the sky and the world was changed. A flash of light and a wall of fire destroyed a city and demonstrated that mankind possessed the means to destroy itself.

It is not the fact of war that sets Hiroshima apart. Artifacts tell us that violent conflict appeared with the very first man. Our early ancestors having learned to make blades from flint and spears from wood used these tools not just for hunting but against their own kind. On every continent, the history of civilization is filled with war, whether driven by scarcity of grain or hunger for gold, compelled by nationalist fervor or religious zeal. Empires have risen and fallen. Peoples have been subjugated and liberated. And at each juncture, innocents have suffered, a countless toll, their names forgotten by time.

The world war that reached its brutal end in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was fought among the wealthiest and most powerful of nations. Their civilizations had given the world great cities and magnificent art. Their thinkers had advanced ideas of justice and harmony and truth. And yet the war grew out of the same base instinct for domination or conquest that had caused conflicts among the simplest tribes, an old pattern amplified by new capabilities and without new constraints.

In the image of a mushroom cloud that rose into these skies, we are most starkly reminded of humanity’s core contradiction. How the very spark that marks us as a species, our thoughts, our imagination, our language, our toolmaking, our ability to set ourselves apart from nature and bend it to our will — those very things also give us the capacity for unmatched destruction.

How often does material advancement or social innovation blind us to this truth? How easily we learn to justify violence in the name of some higher cause.

Every great religion promises a pathway to love and peace and righteousness, and yet no religion has been spared from believers who have claimed their faith as a license to kill.

Nations arise telling a story that binds people together in sacrifice and cooperation, allowing for remarkable feats. But those same stories have so often been used to oppress and dehumanize those who are different.

Science allows us to communicate across the seas and fly above the clouds, to cure disease and understand the cosmos, but those same discoveries can be turned into ever more efficient killing machines.

The wars of the modern age teach us this truth. Hiroshima teaches this truth. Technological progress without an equivalent progress in human institutions can doom us. The scientific revolution that led to the splitting of an atom requires a moral revolution as well.

Mere words cannot give voice to such suffering. But we have a shared responsibility to look directly into the eye of history and ask what we must do differently to curb such suffering again.

Since that fateful day, we have made choices that give us hope. The United States and Japan have forged not only an alliance but a friendship that has won far more for our people than we could ever claim through war. The nations of Europe built a union that replaced battlefields with bonds of commerce and democracy. Oppressed people and nations won liberation. An international community established institutions and treaties that work to avoid war and aspire to restrict and roll back and ultimately eliminate the existence of nuclear weapons.

Still, every act of aggression between nations, every act of terror and corruption and cruelty and oppression that we see around the world shows our work is never done. We may not be able to eliminate man’s capacity to do evil, so nations and the alliances that we form must possess the means to defend ourselves. But among those nations like my own that hold nuclear stockpiles, we must have the courage to escape the logic of fear and pursue a world without them.

We may not realize this goal in my lifetime, but persistent effort can roll back the possibility of catastrophe. We can chart a course that leads to the destruction of these stockpiles. We can stop the spread to new nations and secure deadly materials from fanatics.

And yet that is not enough. For we see around the world today how even the crudest rifles and barrel bombs can serve up violence on a terrible scale. We must change our mindset about war itself. To prevent conflict through diplomacy and strive to end conflicts after they’ve begun. To see our growing interdependence as a cause for peaceful cooperation and not violent competition. To define our nations not by our capacity to destroy but by what we build. And perhaps, above all, we must reimagine our connection to one another as members of one human race.

For this, too, is what makes our species unique. We’re not bound by genetic code to repeat the mistakes of the past. We can learn. We can choose. We can tell our children a different story, one that describes a common humanity, one that makes war less likely and cruelty less easily accepted.

My own nation’s story began with simple words: All men are created equal and endowed by our creator with certain unalienable rights including life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Realizing that ideal has never been easy, even within our own borders, even among our own citizens. But staying true to that story is worth the effort. It is an ideal to be strived for, an ideal that extends across continents and across oceans. The irreducible worth of every person, the insistence that every life is precious, the radical and necessary notion that we are part of a single human family — that is the story that we all must tell.

Ordinary people understand this, I think. They do not want more war. They would rather that the wonders of science be focused on improving life and not eliminating it. When the choices made by nations, when the choices made by leaders, reflect this simple wisdom, then the lesson of Hiroshima is done.

The world was forever changed here, but today the children of this city will go through their day in peace. What a precious thing that is. It is worth protecting, and then extending to every child. That is a future we can choose, a future in which Hiroshima and Nagasaki are known not as the dawn of atomic warfare but as the start of our own moral awakening.

From:www.nytimes.com

The following is a transcript of part of President Obama’s speech in Hiroshima, Japan, as recorded by The New York Times. MAY 27, 2016.

Text

President Obama’s Speech in Hiroshima, Japan

Seventy-one years ago, on a bright cloudless morning, death fell from the sky and the world was changed. A flash of light and a wall of fire destroyed a city and demonstrated that mankind possessed the means to destroy itself.

It is not the fact of war that sets Hiroshima apart. Artifacts tell us that violent conflict appeared with the very first man. Our early ancestors having learned to make blades from flint and spears from wood used these tools not just for hunting but against their own kind. On every continent, the history of civilization is filled with war, whether driven by scarcity of grain or hunger for gold, compelled by nationalist fervor or religious zeal. Empires have risen and fallen. Peoples have been subjugated and liberated. And at each juncture, innocents have suffered, a countless toll, their names forgotten by time.

The world war that reached its brutal end in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was fought among the wealthiest and most powerful of nations. Their civilizations had given the world great cities and magnificent art. Their thinkers had advanced ideas of justice and harmony and truth. And yet the war grew out of the same base instinct for domination or conquest that had caused conflicts among the simplest tribes, an old pattern amplified by new capabilities and without new constraints.

In the image of a mushroom cloud that rose into these skies, we are most starkly reminded of humanity’s core contradiction. How the very spark that marks us as a species, our thoughts, our imagination, our language, our toolmaking, our ability to set ourselves apart from nature and bend it to our will — those very things also give us the capacity for unmatched destruction.

How often does material advancement or social innovation blind us to this truth? How easily we learn to justify violence in the name of some higher cause.

Every great religion promises a pathway to love and peace and righteousness, and yet no religion has been spared from believers who have claimed their faith as a license to kill.

Nations arise telling a story that binds people together in sacrifice and cooperation, allowing for remarkable feats. But those same stories have so often been used to oppress and dehumanize those who are different.

Science allows us to communicate across the seas and fly above the clouds, to cure disease and understand the cosmos, but those same discoveries can be turned into ever more efficient killing machines.

The wars of the modern age teach us this truth. Hiroshima teaches this truth. Technological progress without an equivalent progress in human institutions can doom us. The scientific revolution that led to the splitting of an atom requires a moral revolution as well.

Mere words cannot give voice to such suffering. But we have a shared responsibility to look directly into the eye of history and ask what we must do differently to curb such suffering again.

Since that fateful day, we have made choices that give us hope. The United States and Japan have forged not only an alliance but a friendship that has won far more for our people than we could ever claim through war. The nations of Europe built a union that replaced battlefields with bonds of commerce and democracy. Oppressed people and nations won liberation. An international community established institutions and treaties that work to avoid war and aspire to restrict and roll back and ultimately eliminate the existence of nuclear weapons.

Still, every act of aggression between nations, every act of terror and corruption and cruelty and oppression that we see around the world shows our work is never done. We may not be able to eliminate man’s capacity to do evil, so nations and the alliances that we form must possess the means to defend ourselves. But among those nations like my own that hold nuclear stockpiles, we must have the courage to escape the logic of fear and pursue a world without them.

We may not realize this goal in my lifetime, but persistent effort can roll back the possibility of catastrophe. We can chart a course that leads to the destruction of these stockpiles. We can stop the spread to new nations and secure deadly materials from fanatics.

And yet that is not enough. For we see around the world today how even the crudest rifles and barrel bombs can serve up violence on a terrible scale. We must change our mindset about war itself. To prevent conflict through diplomacy and strive to end conflicts after they’ve begun. To see our growing interdependence as a cause for peaceful cooperation and not violent competition. To define our nations not by our capacity to destroy but by what we build. And perhaps, above all, we must reimagine our connection to one another as members of one human race.

For this, too, is what makes our species unique. We’re not bound by genetic code to repeat the mistakes of the past. We can learn. We can choose. We can tell our children a different story, one that describes a common humanity, one that makes war less likely and cruelty less easily accepted.

My own nation’s story began with simple words: All men are created equal and endowed by our creator with certain unalienable rights including life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Realizing that ideal has never been easy, even within our own borders, even among our own citizens. But staying true to that story is worth the effort. It is an ideal to be strived for, an ideal that extends across continents and across oceans. The irreducible worth of every person, the insistence that every life is precious, the radical and necessary notion that we are part of a single human family — that is the story that we all must tell.

Ordinary people understand this, I think. They do not want more war. They would rather that the wonders of science be focused on improving life and not eliminating it. When the choices made by nations, when the choices made by leaders, reflect this simple wisdom, then the lesson of Hiroshima is done.

The world was forever changed here, but today the children of this city will go through their day in peace. What a precious thing that is. It is worth protecting, and then extending to every child. That is a future we can choose, a future in which Hiroshima and Nagasaki are known not as the dawn of atomic warfare but as the start of our own moral awakening.

From:www.nytimes.com

The following is a transcript of part of President Obama’s speech in Hiroshima, Japan, as recorded by The New York Times. MAY 27, 2016.

Text

President Obama’s Speech in Hiroshima, Japan

Seventy-one years ago, on a bright cloudless morning, death fell from the sky and the world was changed. A flash of light and a wall of fire destroyed a city and demonstrated that mankind possessed the means to destroy itself.

It is not the fact of war that sets Hiroshima apart. Artifacts tell us that violent conflict appeared with the very first man. Our early ancestors having learned to make blades from flint and spears from wood used these tools not just for hunting but against their own kind. On every continent, the history of civilization is filled with war, whether driven by scarcity of grain or hunger for gold, compelled by nationalist fervor or religious zeal. Empires have risen and fallen. Peoples have been subjugated and liberated. And at each juncture, innocents have suffered, a countless toll, their names forgotten by time.

The world war that reached its brutal end in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was fought among the wealthiest and most powerful of nations. Their civilizations had given the world great cities and magnificent art. Their thinkers had advanced ideas of justice and harmony and truth. And yet the war grew out of the same base instinct for domination or conquest that had caused conflicts among the simplest tribes, an old pattern amplified by new capabilities and without new constraints.

In the image of a mushroom cloud that rose into these skies, we are most starkly reminded of humanity’s core contradiction. How the very spark that marks us as a species, our thoughts, our imagination, our language, our toolmaking, our ability to set ourselves apart from nature and bend it to our will — those very things also give us the capacity for unmatched destruction.

How often does material advancement or social innovation blind us to this truth? How easily we learn to justify violence in the name of some higher cause.

Every great religion promises a pathway to love and peace and righteousness, and yet no religion has been spared from believers who have claimed their faith as a license to kill.

Nations arise telling a story that binds people together in sacrifice and cooperation, allowing for remarkable feats. But those same stories have so often been used to oppress and dehumanize those who are different.

Science allows us to communicate across the seas and fly above the clouds, to cure disease and understand the cosmos, but those same discoveries can be turned into ever more efficient killing machines.

The wars of the modern age teach us this truth. Hiroshima teaches this truth. Technological progress without an equivalent progress in human institutions can doom us. The scientific revolution that led to the splitting of an atom requires a moral revolution as well.

Mere words cannot give voice to such suffering. But we have a shared responsibility to look directly into the eye of history and ask what we must do differently to curb such suffering again.

Since that fateful day, we have made choices that give us hope. The United States and Japan have forged not only an alliance but a friendship that has won far more for our people than we could ever claim through war. The nations of Europe built a union that replaced battlefields with bonds of commerce and democracy. Oppressed people and nations won liberation. An international community established institutions and treaties that work to avoid war and aspire to restrict and roll back and ultimately eliminate the existence of nuclear weapons.

Still, every act of aggression between nations, every act of terror and corruption and cruelty and oppression that we see around the world shows our work is never done. We may not be able to eliminate man’s capacity to do evil, so nations and the alliances that we form must possess the means to defend ourselves. But among those nations like my own that hold nuclear stockpiles, we must have the courage to escape the logic of fear and pursue a world without them.

We may not realize this goal in my lifetime, but persistent effort can roll back the possibility of catastrophe. We can chart a course that leads to the destruction of these stockpiles. We can stop the spread to new nations and secure deadly materials from fanatics.

And yet that is not enough. For we see around the world today how even the crudest rifles and barrel bombs can serve up violence on a terrible scale. We must change our mindset about war itself. To prevent conflict through diplomacy and strive to end conflicts after they’ve begun. To see our growing interdependence as a cause for peaceful cooperation and not violent competition. To define our nations not by our capacity to destroy but by what we build. And perhaps, above all, we must reimagine our connection to one another as members of one human race.

For this, too, is what makes our species unique. We’re not bound by genetic code to repeat the mistakes of the past. We can learn. We can choose. We can tell our children a different story, one that describes a common humanity, one that makes war less likely and cruelty less easily accepted.

My own nation’s story began with simple words: All men are created equal and endowed by our creator with certain unalienable rights including life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Realizing that ideal has never been easy, even within our own borders, even among our own citizens. But staying true to that story is worth the effort. It is an ideal to be strived for, an ideal that extends across continents and across oceans. The irreducible worth of every person, the insistence that every life is precious, the radical and necessary notion that we are part of a single human family — that is the story that we all must tell.

Ordinary people understand this, I think. They do not want more war. They would rather that the wonders of science be focused on improving life and not eliminating it. When the choices made by nations, when the choices made by leaders, reflect this simple wisdom, then the lesson of Hiroshima is done.

The world was forever changed here, but today the children of this city will go through their day in peace. What a precious thing that is. It is worth protecting, and then extending to every child. That is a future we can choose, a future in which Hiroshima and Nagasaki are known not as the dawn of atomic warfare but as the start of our own moral awakening.

From:www.nytimes.com

The following is a transcript of part of President Obama’s speech in Hiroshima, Japan, as recorded by The New York Times. MAY 27, 2016.

Text

President Obama’s Speech in Hiroshima, Japan

Seventy-one years ago, on a bright cloudless morning, death fell from the sky and the world was changed. A flash of light and a wall of fire destroyed a city and demonstrated that mankind possessed the means to destroy itself.

It is not the fact of war that sets Hiroshima apart. Artifacts tell us that violent conflict appeared with the very first man. Our early ancestors having learned to make blades from flint and spears from wood used these tools not just for hunting but against their own kind. On every continent, the history of civilization is filled with war, whether driven by scarcity of grain or hunger for gold, compelled by nationalist fervor or religious zeal. Empires have risen and fallen. Peoples have been subjugated and liberated. And at each juncture, innocents have suffered, a countless toll, their names forgotten by time.

The world war that reached its brutal end in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was fought among the wealthiest and most powerful of nations. Their civilizations had given the world great cities and magnificent art. Their thinkers had advanced ideas of justice and harmony and truth. And yet the war grew out of the same base instinct for domination or conquest that had caused conflicts among the simplest tribes, an old pattern amplified by new capabilities and without new constraints.

In the image of a mushroom cloud that rose into these skies, we are most starkly reminded of humanity’s core contradiction. How the very spark that marks us as a species, our thoughts, our imagination, our language, our toolmaking, our ability to set ourselves apart from nature and bend it to our will — those very things also give us the capacity for unmatched destruction.

How often does material advancement or social innovation blind us to this truth? How easily we learn to justify violence in the name of some higher cause.

Every great religion promises a pathway to love and peace and righteousness, and yet no religion has been spared from believers who have claimed their faith as a license to kill.

Nations arise telling a story that binds people together in sacrifice and cooperation, allowing for remarkable feats. But those same stories have so often been used to oppress and dehumanize those who are different.

Science allows us to communicate across the seas and fly above the clouds, to cure disease and understand the cosmos, but those same discoveries can be turned into ever more efficient killing machines.

The wars of the modern age teach us this truth. Hiroshima teaches this truth. Technological progress without an equivalent progress in human institutions can doom us. The scientific revolution that led to the splitting of an atom requires a moral revolution as well.

Mere words cannot give voice to such suffering. But we have a shared responsibility to look directly into the eye of history and ask what we must do differently to curb such suffering again.

Since that fateful day, we have made choices that give us hope. The United States and Japan have forged not only an alliance but a friendship that has won far more for our people than we could ever claim through war. The nations of Europe built a union that replaced battlefields with bonds of commerce and democracy. Oppressed people and nations won liberation. An international community established institutions and treaties that work to avoid war and aspire to restrict and roll back and ultimately eliminate the existence of nuclear weapons.

Still, every act of aggression between nations, every act of terror and corruption and cruelty and oppression that we see around the world shows our work is never done. We may not be able to eliminate man’s capacity to do evil, so nations and the alliances that we form must possess the means to defend ourselves. But among those nations like my own that hold nuclear stockpiles, we must have the courage to escape the logic of fear and pursue a world without them.

We may not realize this goal in my lifetime, but persistent effort can roll back the possibility of catastrophe. We can chart a course that leads to the destruction of these stockpiles. We can stop the spread to new nations and secure deadly materials from fanatics.

And yet that is not enough. For we see around the world today how even the crudest rifles and barrel bombs can serve up violence on a terrible scale. We must change our mindset about war itself. To prevent conflict through diplomacy and strive to end conflicts after they’ve begun. To see our growing interdependence as a cause for peaceful cooperation and not violent competition. To define our nations not by our capacity to destroy but by what we build. And perhaps, above all, we must reimagine our connection to one another as members of one human race.

For this, too, is what makes our species unique. We’re not bound by genetic code to repeat the mistakes of the past. We can learn. We can choose. We can tell our children a different story, one that describes a common humanity, one that makes war less likely and cruelty less easily accepted.

My own nation’s story began with simple words: All men are created equal and endowed by our creator with certain unalienable rights including life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Realizing that ideal has never been easy, even within our own borders, even among our own citizens. But staying true to that story is worth the effort. It is an ideal to be strived for, an ideal that extends across continents and across oceans. The irreducible worth of every person, the insistence that every life is precious, the radical and necessary notion that we are part of a single human family — that is the story that we all must tell.

Ordinary people understand this, I think. They do not want more war. They would rather that the wonders of science be focused on improving life and not eliminating it. When the choices made by nations, when the choices made by leaders, reflect this simple wisdom, then the lesson of Hiroshima is done.

The world was forever changed here, but today the children of this city will go through their day in peace. What a precious thing that is. It is worth protecting, and then extending to every child. That is a future we can choose, a future in which Hiroshima and Nagasaki are known not as the dawn of atomic warfare but as the start of our own moral awakening.

From:www.nytimes.com

The following is a transcript of part of President Obama’s speech in Hiroshima, Japan, as recorded by The New York Times. MAY 27, 2016.

Text

President Obama’s Speech in Hiroshima, Japan

Seventy-one years ago, on a bright cloudless morning, death fell from the sky and the world was changed. A flash of light and a wall of fire destroyed a city and demonstrated that mankind possessed the means to destroy itself.

It is not the fact of war that sets Hiroshima apart. Artifacts tell us that violent conflict appeared with the very first man. Our early ancestors having learned to make blades from flint and spears from wood used these tools not just for hunting but against their own kind. On every continent, the history of civilization is filled with war, whether driven by scarcity of grain or hunger for gold, compelled by nationalist fervor or religious zeal. Empires have risen and fallen. Peoples have been subjugated and liberated. And at each juncture, innocents have suffered, a countless toll, their names forgotten by time.

The world war that reached its brutal end in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was fought among the wealthiest and most powerful of nations. Their civilizations had given the world great cities and magnificent art. Their thinkers had advanced ideas of justice and harmony and truth. And yet the war grew out of the same base instinct for domination or conquest that had caused conflicts among the simplest tribes, an old pattern amplified by new capabilities and without new constraints.

In the image of a mushroom cloud that rose into these skies, we are most starkly reminded of humanity’s core contradiction. How the very spark that marks us as a species, our thoughts, our imagination, our language, our toolmaking, our ability to set ourselves apart from nature and bend it to our will — those very things also give us the capacity for unmatched destruction.

How often does material advancement or social innovation blind us to this truth? How easily we learn to justify violence in the name of some higher cause.

Every great religion promises a pathway to love and peace and righteousness, and yet no religion has been spared from believers who have claimed their faith as a license to kill.

Nations arise telling a story that binds people together in sacrifice and cooperation, allowing for remarkable feats. But those same stories have so often been used to oppress and dehumanize those who are different.

Science allows us to communicate across the seas and fly above the clouds, to cure disease and understand the cosmos, but those same discoveries can be turned into ever more efficient killing machines.

The wars of the modern age teach us this truth. Hiroshima teaches this truth. Technological progress without an equivalent progress in human institutions can doom us. The scientific revolution that led to the splitting of an atom requires a moral revolution as well.

Mere words cannot give voice to such suffering. But we have a shared responsibility to look directly into the eye of history and ask what we must do differently to curb such suffering again.

Since that fateful day, we have made choices that give us hope. The United States and Japan have forged not only an alliance but a friendship that has won far more for our people than we could ever claim through war. The nations of Europe built a union that replaced battlefields with bonds of commerce and democracy. Oppressed people and nations won liberation. An international community established institutions and treaties that work to avoid war and aspire to restrict and roll back and ultimately eliminate the existence of nuclear weapons.

Still, every act of aggression between nations, every act of terror and corruption and cruelty and oppression that we see around the world shows our work is never done. We may not be able to eliminate man’s capacity to do evil, so nations and the alliances that we form must possess the means to defend ourselves. But among those nations like my own that hold nuclear stockpiles, we must have the courage to escape the logic of fear and pursue a world without them.

We may not realize this goal in my lifetime, but persistent effort can roll back the possibility of catastrophe. We can chart a course that leads to the destruction of these stockpiles. We can stop the spread to new nations and secure deadly materials from fanatics.

And yet that is not enough. For we see around the world today how even the crudest rifles and barrel bombs can serve up violence on a terrible scale. We must change our mindset about war itself. To prevent conflict through diplomacy and strive to end conflicts after they’ve begun. To see our growing interdependence as a cause for peaceful cooperation and not violent competition. To define our nations not by our capacity to destroy but by what we build. And perhaps, above all, we must reimagine our connection to one another as members of one human race.

For this, too, is what makes our species unique. We’re not bound by genetic code to repeat the mistakes of the past. We can learn. We can choose. We can tell our children a different story, one that describes a common humanity, one that makes war less likely and cruelty less easily accepted.

My own nation’s story began with simple words: All men are created equal and endowed by our creator with certain unalienable rights including life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Realizing that ideal has never been easy, even within our own borders, even among our own citizens. But staying true to that story is worth the effort. It is an ideal to be strived for, an ideal that extends across continents and across oceans. The irreducible worth of every person, the insistence that every life is precious, the radical and necessary notion that we are part of a single human family — that is the story that we all must tell.

Ordinary people understand this, I think. They do not want more war. They would rather that the wonders of science be focused on improving life and not eliminating it. When the choices made by nations, when the choices made by leaders, reflect this simple wisdom, then the lesson of Hiroshima is done.

The world was forever changed here, but today the children of this city will go through their day in peace. What a precious thing that is. It is worth protecting, and then extending to every child. That is a future we can choose, a future in which Hiroshima and Nagasaki are known not as the dawn of atomic warfare but as the start of our own moral awakening.

From:www.nytimes.com

L’EMPIRE DU RIRE

"Juste pour rire", c’est le plus grand festival d’humour au monde avec des chiffres qui font tourner la tête: pour l’édition 2014, il a réuni 2830 artistes et artisans provenant de 50 pays, dont 500 humoristes.

En 1983, Gilbert Rozon décide, alors qu’il a à peine 30 ans, de monter un festival d’humour à Montréal. Car "l’humour guérit tous les maux et lui-même se décrit comme marchand de bonheur". Rapidement, le festival prend de l’ampleur, aidé par un coup d’éclat dès la première édition: l’invité d’honneur n’était autre que Charles Trenet. Le "fou chantant" n’est certes pas un humoriste, mais il a permis au festival d’attirer l’attention des médias.

Les éditions "Juste pour rire" permettent aux nouveaux talents de percer. En plus de trois décennies, des centaines d’humoristes ont ainsi été révélés par le festival, passage quasi obligé dans le domaine de l’humour au Québec. La liste est longue des grands comiques locaux qui s’y sont fait un nom, mais elle l’est aussi pour leurs homologues français présentés au public québécois.

"Juste pour rire" ne s’arrête pas aux prestations des humoristes, on y découvre un peu de tout. Cette année, par exemple, on retrouve la comédie musicale Grease, des galas comiques sur le thème des sept péchés capitaux, un autre d’acrobaties extrêmes, ou encore un grand classique avec Les trois Mousquetaires, mis en scène en collaboration avec le Théâtre du Nouveau Monde.

Pour Lisbeth Tremblay, une habituée du festival, ce qu’elle préfère, c’est la portion du festival que l’on retrouve au Quartier des spectacles: les arts de la rue. Troubadours, amuseurs publics, danseurs, stands de jeux, spectacles de lumière, stand-up... Ce sont près de deux millions chaque été à venir rire à gorge déployée, pendant dix jours. "J’aime surtout l’ambiance le soir, la scène extérieure permet de se promener, c’est plus familial. Mais si tu veux vraiment voir des spectacles, il faut planifier et acheter des billets", précise Lisbeth.

Le festival offre toutefois des spectacles gratuits de qualité. "Nous voulons démocratiser les spectacles en les mettant dans la rue, pour que tous les Montréalais, peu importe leur budget, puissent en profiter", affirme Jean-David Pelletier, le directeur communications du festival.

Au total, "Juste pour rire" 2015, c’est 1600 représentations dont 500 gratuites, et 250 spectacles en salle. Avec une seule mission: "Rendre les gens heureux." Et pas seulement pendant le festival, mais toute l’année car il s’agit d’un empire du rire, avec des émissions télévisées, des spectacles vivants, de la production d’artistes et qui s’est exporté dans plusieurs grandes villes du monde.

JOSSELIN, Marie- Laure, L’empire du rire, In Le français dans le monde, France: FIPF/ CLE international, 2015, Nº 400, p.11.

L’EMPIRE DU RIRE

"Juste pour rire", c’est le plus grand festival d’humour au monde avec des chiffres qui font tourner la tête: pour l’édition 2014, il a réuni 2830 artistes et artisans provenant de 50 pays, dont 500 humoristes.

En 1983, Gilbert Rozon décide, alors qu’il a à peine 30 ans, de monter un festival d’humour à Montréal. Car "l’humour guérit tous les maux et lui-même se décrit comme marchand de bonheur". Rapidement, le festival prend de l’ampleur, aidé par un coup d’éclat dès la première édition: l’invité d’honneur n’était autre que Charles Trenet. Le "fou chantant" n’est certes pas un humoriste, mais il a permis au festival d’attirer l’attention des médias.

Les éditions "Juste pour rire" permettent aux nouveaux talents de percer. En plus de trois décennies, des centaines d’humoristes ont ainsi été révélés par le festival, passage quasi obligé dans le domaine de l’humour au Québec. La liste est longue des grands comiques locaux qui s’y sont fait un nom, mais elle l’est aussi pour leurs homologues français présentés au public québécois.

"Juste pour rire" ne s’arrête pas aux prestations des humoristes, on y découvre un peu de tout. Cette année, par exemple, on retrouve la comédie musicale Grease, des galas comiques sur le thème des sept péchés capitaux, un autre d’acrobaties extrêmes, ou encore un grand classique avec Les trois Mousquetaires, mis en scène en collaboration avec le Théâtre du Nouveau Monde.

Pour Lisbeth Tremblay, une habituée du festival, ce qu’elle préfère, c’est la portion du festival que l’on retrouve au Quartier des spectacles: les arts de la rue. Troubadours, amuseurs publics, danseurs, stands de jeux, spectacles de lumière, stand-up... Ce sont près de deux millions chaque été à venir rire à gorge déployée, pendant dix jours. "J’aime surtout l’ambiance le soir, la scène extérieure permet de se promener, c’est plus familial. Mais si tu veux vraiment voir des spectacles, il faut planifier et acheter des billets", précise Lisbeth.

Le festival offre toutefois des spectacles gratuits de qualité. "Nous voulons démocratiser les spectacles en les mettant dans la rue, pour que tous les Montréalais, peu importe leur budget, puissent en profiter", affirme Jean-David Pelletier, le directeur communications du festival.

Au total, "Juste pour rire" 2015, c’est 1600 représentations dont 500 gratuites, et 250 spectacles en salle. Avec une seule mission: "Rendre les gens heureux." Et pas seulement pendant le festival, mais toute l’année car il s’agit d’un empire du rire, avec des émissions télévisées, des spectacles vivants, de la production d’artistes et qui s’est exporté dans plusieurs grandes villes du monde.

JOSSELIN, Marie- Laure, L’empire du rire, In Le français dans le monde, France: FIPF/ CLE international, 2015, Nº 400, p.11.

L’EMPIRE DU RIRE

"Juste pour rire", c’est le plus grand festival d’humour au monde avec des chiffres qui font tourner la tête: pour l’édition 2014, il a réuni 2830 artistes et artisans provenant de 50 pays, dont 500 humoristes.

En 1983, Gilbert Rozon décide, alors qu’il a à peine 30 ans, de monter un festival d’humour à Montréal. Car "l’humour guérit tous les maux et lui-même se décrit comme marchand de bonheur". Rapidement, le festival prend de l’ampleur, aidé par un coup d’éclat dès la première édition: l’invité d’honneur n’était autre que Charles Trenet. Le "fou chantant" n’est certes pas un humoriste, mais il a permis au festival d’attirer l’attention des médias.

Les éditions "Juste pour rire" permettent aux nouveaux talents de percer. En plus de trois décennies, des centaines d’humoristes ont ainsi été révélés par le festival, passage quasi obligé dans le domaine de l’humour au Québec. La liste est longue des grands comiques locaux qui s’y sont fait un nom, mais elle l’est aussi pour leurs homologues français présentés au public québécois.

"Juste pour rire" ne s’arrête pas aux prestations des humoristes, on y découvre un peu de tout. Cette année, par exemple, on retrouve la comédie musicale Grease, des galas comiques sur le thème des sept péchés capitaux, un autre d’acrobaties extrêmes, ou encore un grand classique avec Les trois Mousquetaires, mis en scène en collaboration avec le Théâtre du Nouveau Monde.

Pour Lisbeth Tremblay, une habituée du festival, ce qu’elle préfère, c’est la portion du festival que l’on retrouve au Quartier des spectacles: les arts de la rue. Troubadours, amuseurs publics, danseurs, stands de jeux, spectacles de lumière, stand-up... Ce sont près de deux millions chaque été à venir rire à gorge déployée, pendant dix jours. "J’aime surtout l’ambiance le soir, la scène extérieure permet de se promener, c’est plus familial. Mais si tu veux vraiment voir des spectacles, il faut planifier et acheter des billets", précise Lisbeth.

Le festival offre toutefois des spectacles gratuits de qualité. "Nous voulons démocratiser les spectacles en les mettant dans la rue, pour que tous les Montréalais, peu importe leur budget, puissent en profiter", affirme Jean-David Pelletier, le directeur communications du festival.

Au total, "Juste pour rire" 2015, c’est 1600 représentations dont 500 gratuites, et 250 spectacles en salle. Avec une seule mission: "Rendre les gens heureux." Et pas seulement pendant le festival, mais toute l’année car il s’agit d’un empire du rire, avec des émissions télévisées, des spectacles vivants, de la production d’artistes et qui s’est exporté dans plusieurs grandes villes du monde.

JOSSELIN, Marie- Laure, L’empire du rire, In Le français dans le monde, France: FIPF/ CLE international, 2015, Nº 400, p.11.

L’EMPIRE DU RIRE

"Juste pour rire", c’est le plus grand festival d’humour au monde avec des chiffres qui font tourner la tête: pour l’édition 2014, il a réuni 2830 artistes et artisans provenant de 50 pays, dont 500 humoristes.

En 1983, Gilbert Rozon décide, alors qu’il a à peine 30 ans, de monter un festival d’humour à Montréal. Car "l’humour guérit tous les maux et lui-même se décrit comme marchand de bonheur". Rapidement, le festival prend de l’ampleur, aidé par un coup d’éclat dès la première édition: l’invité d’honneur n’était autre que Charles Trenet. Le "fou chantant" n’est certes pas un humoriste, mais il a permis au festival d’attirer l’attention des médias.

Les éditions "Juste pour rire" permettent aux nouveaux talents de percer. En plus de trois décennies, des centaines d’humoristes ont ainsi été révélés par le festival, passage quasi obligé dans le domaine de l’humour au Québec. La liste est longue des grands comiques locaux qui s’y sont fait un nom, mais elle l’est aussi pour leurs homologues français présentés au public québécois.

"Juste pour rire" ne s’arrête pas aux prestations des humoristes, on y découvre un peu de tout. Cette année, par exemple, on retrouve la comédie musicale Grease, des galas comiques sur le thème des sept péchés capitaux, un autre d’acrobaties extrêmes, ou encore un grand classique avec Les trois Mousquetaires, mis en scène en collaboration avec le Théâtre du Nouveau Monde.

Pour Lisbeth Tremblay, une habituée du festival, ce qu’elle préfère, c’est la portion du festival que l’on retrouve au Quartier des spectacles: les arts de la rue. Troubadours, amuseurs publics, danseurs, stands de jeux, spectacles de lumière, stand-up... Ce sont près de deux millions chaque été à venir rire à gorge déployée, pendant dix jours. "J’aime surtout l’ambiance le soir, la scène extérieure permet de se promener, c’est plus familial. Mais si tu veux vraiment voir des spectacles, il faut planifier et acheter des billets", précise Lisbeth.

Le festival offre toutefois des spectacles gratuits de qualité. "Nous voulons démocratiser les spectacles en les mettant dans la rue, pour que tous les Montréalais, peu importe leur budget, puissent en profiter", affirme Jean-David Pelletier, le directeur communications du festival.

Au total, "Juste pour rire" 2015, c’est 1600 représentations dont 500 gratuites, et 250 spectacles en salle. Avec une seule mission: "Rendre les gens heureux." Et pas seulement pendant le festival, mais toute l’année car il s’agit d’un empire du rire, avec des émissions télévisées, des spectacles vivants, de la production d’artistes et qui s’est exporté dans plusieurs grandes villes du monde.

JOSSELIN, Marie- Laure, L’empire du rire, In Le français dans le monde, France: FIPF/ CLE international, 2015, Nº 400, p.11.

L’EMPIRE DU RIRE

"Juste pour rire", c’est le plus grand festival d’humour au monde avec des chiffres qui font tourner la tête: pour l’édition 2014, il a réuni 2830 artistes et artisans provenant de 50 pays, dont 500 humoristes.

En 1983, Gilbert Rozon décide, alors qu’il a à peine 30 ans, de monter un festival d’humour à Montréal. Car "l’humour guérit tous les maux et lui-même se décrit comme marchand de bonheur". Rapidement, le festival prend de l’ampleur, aidé par un coup d’éclat dès la première édition: l’invité d’honneur n’était autre que Charles Trenet. Le "fou chantant" n’est certes pas un humoriste, mais il a permis au festival d’attirer l’attention des médias.

Les éditions "Juste pour rire" permettent aux nouveaux talents de percer. En plus de trois décennies, des centaines d’humoristes ont ainsi été révélés par le festival, passage quasi obligé dans le domaine de l’humour au Québec. La liste est longue des grands comiques locaux qui s’y sont fait un nom, mais elle l’est aussi pour leurs homologues français présentés au public québécois.

"Juste pour rire" ne s’arrête pas aux prestations des humoristes, on y découvre un peu de tout. Cette année, par exemple, on retrouve la comédie musicale Grease, des galas comiques sur le thème des sept péchés capitaux, un autre d’acrobaties extrêmes, ou encore un grand classique avec Les trois Mousquetaires, mis en scène en collaboration avec le Théâtre du Nouveau Monde.

Pour Lisbeth Tremblay, une habituée du festival, ce qu’elle préfère, c’est la portion du festival que l’on retrouve au Quartier des spectacles: les arts de la rue. Troubadours, amuseurs publics, danseurs, stands de jeux, spectacles de lumière, stand-up... Ce sont près de deux millions chaque été à venir rire à gorge déployée, pendant dix jours. "J’aime surtout l’ambiance le soir, la scène extérieure permet de se promener, c’est plus familial. Mais si tu veux vraiment voir des spectacles, il faut planifier et acheter des billets", précise Lisbeth.

Le festival offre toutefois des spectacles gratuits de qualité. "Nous voulons démocratiser les spectacles en les mettant dans la rue, pour que tous les Montréalais, peu importe leur budget, puissent en profiter", affirme Jean-David Pelletier, le directeur communications du festival.

Au total, "Juste pour rire" 2015, c’est 1600 représentations dont 500 gratuites, et 250 spectacles en salle. Avec une seule mission: "Rendre les gens heureux." Et pas seulement pendant le festival, mais toute l’année car il s’agit d’un empire du rire, avec des émissions télévisées, des spectacles vivants, de la production d’artistes et qui s’est exporté dans plusieurs grandes villes du monde.

JOSSELIN, Marie- Laure, L’empire du rire, In Le français dans le monde, France: FIPF/ CLE international, 2015, Nº 400, p.11.