Paris and the great theater festival

ParisMuñeca, Valentina, Olga, Alexandra, Antonina, Tamara, Loudmila, Klavdla, Zinaida. Nine Russian women who speak about the war they lived through in the show War has no woman's faceFrom the Second World War. From all wars. From how they affect women. How they change them. From fear and resilience. Nine women. Nine lives. And the words of Svetlana Alexievich, the journalist and writer who, in this work, reflected the reality of Russian female combatants in a series of interviews. The book, published in Catalan by Raig Verd in 2018, had a theatrical version at the Taganka Theatre in Moscow. Now, the French director Julie Deliquet has transformed it into a brilliant and moving testimony to a subject of lamentable and eternal relevance, which could be seen this weekend in Paris.

Another of the offerings that has arrived in the French capital is that of Bartabas, the paradigm of the man who loves horses. Forty years ago, the artist surprised us in the open field of the old Barcelona slaughterhouse with the Cirque Aligre, or circus of rats and geese, and captivated us during the years of the Forum (Tryptik in 2001 and Loungta in 2004) with the poetic nature of his equestrian shows with oriental flavors under the big top. He is the choreographer of horses who managed to get the French State to build him a magnificent wooden tent in Aubervilliers, almost at the end of metro line 7. There he has premiered a dozen equestrian shows of overwhelming stage poetry.

But in The songs of the corveal It takes a turn with a creation that baffles its audience, who offer only lukewarm applause. On a stage almost covered in water, the protagonist is the word. The word of his writings (published by Gallimard) on the origins of humanity. Songs in which humankind encounters animals and asks questions. A coveted spectacle during the pandemic, with a philosophical bent, accompanied by an orchestra of Iranian musicians playing traditional instruments and adorned with splendid antlers. But the word reigns supreme in the voices of devoted rhapsodes. Texts devoid of dramatic intuition, lacking connection between them. The staging retains the poetic features of the creations of the centaur Bartabas, who initially rides encased in a raven mask. The best part, of course, where talent truly shines, lies in the actions between the texts. Brief and exquisitely beautiful actions. Of fire and, finally, of horses. Like the white mares ridden by skeletons, surely related to those hanging from the dome of the bar at the entrance to the tent. A few brief moments of wonder in a rather less charming setting, despite the biscuits, the mulled wine on every table, and the geese that invaded the dance floor as we left.

A comedy overflowing with tenderness

The personality and theatre of Jean-Luc Lagarce (1957-1995), which we discovered with Oriol Broggi at the Library in 2020 with Only the end of the world, It has parallels with Koltès (1948-1969). But while Koltès had the patronage of Patrice Chéreau, Lagarce grew up alone. New, the heroes, de Lagarce, It's about theater. About a company from the fifties or sixties after the end of a performance that hasn't gone entirely well. The actors change and leave their characters in trunks to be themselves. Or so they think. Around the wedding of the owners' eldest daughter to the lead actor, the miseries, but also the joys of the profession, erupt. Even the ideological clashes between those who command and those who serve. Eleven wonderful performers, almost always on stage, deliver a comedy overflowing with tenderness, humor, and, of course, love for the theater. Bravo!

Philippe Decouflé and his company DCA (diversity, camaraderie, agility) are well known among us. Since they have visited us several times (Shazam! at the TNC in 2001; Only at the Grec in 2003; Iris at the TNC in 2004; Octopus at the TNC in 2011) with very diverse shows in which dance is mixed with circus and video phrasing in a charmingly playful way. Her new creation Meanwhile It playfully explores the passage of time (a rather crazy clock hangs above the scene) and is basically a source of joy. collage as a tribute to silent cinema, to music hall And a touch of Pina Bausch in the movement, the music (live piano, rock and pop recordings, and vocals), and the dramatic structure. A rather monochromatic first act with magical touches and a dance of arms that seek each other but never meet (the veteran Dominique Boivin's theatricality is magnificent). And a colorful second act with a group of fantastical characters, a delightful change of perspective from what we saw in the first act. A delightful final touch, the kind that leaves you with a smile, where some twenty volunteer dancers join the company until they embrace each other. Fantastic. Yes, Paris is a theater festival.