Live Arts production office
LA MUSICA DEUXIEME
Guillemette Laurent | Marguerite Duras
THEATER
70 ′
From 16 years old
A woman and a man loved each other passionately. They no longer love each other today.
On the eve of their divorce, they seek to understand (each other) and engage in the autopsy of their love story.
A text by Marguerite Duras carried by an outstanding duo in a staging of a dizzying accuracy.
Text Marguerite Duras | Directed by Guillemette Laurent | With Catherine Salée and Yoann Blanc | Scenography and costumes Christine Grégoire and Nicolas Mouzet-Tagawa | Light creation Julie Petit-Etienne | Stage manager (alternating) Nicolas Sanchez / Michel Delvigne | Photos Michel Boermans / Jérôme Van Belle / Alice Piemme / AML Support & distribution BLOOM Project
Production Le Colonel Astral and the Théâtre Océan Nord | A residency creation at the Théâtre Océan Nord | With the support of Bloom Project and the takeover aid of the Fédération Wallonie Bruxelles - Service du théâtre CAPT
This show was created in March 2017 at Théâtre Océan Nord.
Art et Vie code 9152 - 1
Tour availability Contact us
A woman and a man loved each other passionately. They no longer love each other today.
On the eve of their divorce, they seek to understand (each other) and engage in the autopsy of their love story. A text by Marguerite Duras carried by an outstanding duo, in a staging of dizzying accuracy.
Time, its pangs and its temptations have followed in their footsteps, until they were lost and brought down. She, Anne-Marie, wanted suicide, he, Michel, murder. Then they separated.
It was the day before yesterday. It was yesterday.
Today brought them together again in court (at the theater) to hear their divorce. One last time, during the night, before returning to their respective “others”, they will try to talk to each other, try to understand the enigma which has led them to the loss, to the disaster of the other.
Cries and whispers, forced smiles and sudden giggles, stifled sobs, desire to understand and refusal to know, hatred and stupidity, words torn from the silence to silence the silence, to delay the last moment of departure where nothing, ever, cannot be said.