The text circulates freely, without barriers between us and them, between them and the text, between the text and us. It is an experience to be lived!
Arts and Entertainment | Audience Testimonials
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The Innocents

Written and directed by David Noir

Company: La Vie est courte
With : V. Brancq, S. Codhant, A. Laurier, F. Médina, M. Notte, M. Piémontèse, A. Tournayre, J-F. Rey, J-H. Laleu, P. Savoir, J.Meystre, J. Coulomb P. Groleau, R. Bardet, D. Noir
Set design: David Noir
Music: Jérôme Coulomb, Pascal Groleau, Pierre Notte
Lighting: Staff

Audience testimonials

The primates are waiting for us at the entrance, staring at us wildly and unsettling me. I take my seat and then the show begins in a rhythm where one tableau follows another in an atmosphere where ghosts emerge from the human mind and denounce decay; three little girls are walking in the woods where the trees are naked men, they will be devoured (you know you can hang yourself with pants or worse), the loss of humanity. The violence expressed reminds me of Clockwork Orange. The nudity and cannibalism in a scene where a naked man and a naked woman are eaten to death by naked savages with no hope of return.
They've dared to hit the nail on the head. Despite a strong message of passivity and love at the end, I'm on my guard because I know that tomorrow morning I'll be thinking about this play (and I won't hide the fact that I went back a second time).

Pierre Lebeugle

 

In this land of heatwaves, I've found a little fresh water in a well of freedom. This year, Pulsion Théâtre is inhabited by an energy that circulates with the force of life. Jostled by a chaotic, anarchic breath that responds only to listening to its organic force, this show awakened me in a fabulous way. From the moment I entered the auditorium, I sensed that this was going to be a singular experience, and it was. From playfulness to horror and from horror to playfulness, I followed these Little Red Riding Hoods into the jungle of our unspoken secrets.

I saw the childlike soul of these people on the set. I saw joy, amazement and openness. Everywhere. Everywhere. So much of it. All full.

In a journey that takes the form of an initiation tale, we see mounds of cushions and eiderdowns being made and unmade on the stage, breasts gushing out, buttocks stretching, sexes emitting sounds, unarmed words echoing. On the screen, in the distance, images from old black and white films scroll past, sequences not unlike Lars Von Trier's world of idiots. Melting-pot elves appear on stage to tell us about everyday racism. It's not what you'd call theatre, it's something else. There are no rules and it's built up from second to second. It's Sisyphean. I have the feeling that at each performance, like the mythological character, they have to carry this show to the top of the mountain and that no two of their journeys are alike. "Les innocents" is dripping with sweat and it's beautiful. The text is read as if for a recital at a microphone. The text flows freely, with no barriers between us and them, between them and the text, between the text and us. It's an experience to be had! In this age of contraction, we're learning to breathe again. These "conscious unconscious" fight intolerance with their bodies and their hearts. They bring us face to face with our inner walls. What light, for me, in these luminous beings of generosity, love and lucidity. What subtlety and sensitivity in this band! They don't take themselves too seriously, and they don't elaborate or epilogue on such fragile, monstrous truths. This modesty does not exhaust the horror in formal discourses that seek only to forget it. But we forget nothing. We all live with our memories... The nudity of the bodies on the stage confronts me with my own limits, and mirrors my own sexuality.

In the midst of this dark season in Avignon, a season in which theatre owners are being questioned about the politics and commitment of their programming, Pulsion théâtre stands out for its bold and sensitive choice. It's the choice to let the "innocent" mirrors of our chaotic and terrifying world speak for themselves, the choice not to be afraid to listen to the lyrical din of a generation that dances its fears, sings its dreams and, despite everything, searches in the heart of its infinite solitude for the child who still dreams with insolence. Thank you for making me dream.

Khadija El Mahdi

David Noir

David Noir, performer, actor, author, director, singer, visual artist, video maker, sound designer, teacher... carries his polymorphous nudity and his costumed childhood under the eyes and ears of anyone who wants to see and hear.

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