The first shock is the decor, Richard Peduzzi course, if usual accomplice Chéreau, almost overflowing the seats (rows have the lowest suddenly disappeared) and the spectator entrance, which must crawl through : This is the transcript of a few rooms of the Louvre (where the show had its birth), to high red walls, open doors to the majestic dimensions, and heights inhabited pieces of paintings.
Here comes a man, Pascal Gregory, who grows to be lost and fall asleep, then a wife, Valeria Bruni-Tedeschi, who saw the man panic, and then approach the wake. Here comes the second shock, that of text. But it is rather negative: full of repetitions that arise from the musical, philosophical remarks without meaning emerges, it seems hollow, boring. The long dialogue of the rediscovery of these two makes me fear the worst, if we go through this for almost two hours ... But fortunately
join them on stage first other body, the ambiguous status: Are they ghosts, since this meeting is happening, for what says the text, in a cemetery? Personifications of memories and regrets? Or more real characters? Different times, we move from one of these states to another, in a beautiful float, and related work on the body, is a major strength of this show. When parents arrive
Rights (Bulle Ogier, kindness captor, and Bernard Verley, aging silent block) and his ex-wife and her son died, it becomes a family comedy, a wicked paint meetings not really family friendly. In
time jostling, years passing without that being said and we leave this place without a single grip and the body wither, grandmother shoeless with infinite delicacy his son fell to the ground, then covered with a handkerchief the faces of all these men died one after the other, women standing all come together, "it's time to go," said the grandmother hitherto silent, and go to the scenes, magnificent final a piece that I did not like the text, but saved in part by the staging by Patrice Chereau, the decor, the work on the bodies of the actors.
Elsewhere: Luce, Three shots
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