Rebecca Journo, Canicular. From Vive le Sujet – Tentatives at Festival d Avignon 2024. Photo © Christophe Raynaud de Lage / Festival d'Avignon

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Avignon: where sweating, schmoozing and cringe collide

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Rebecca Journo, Canicular. From Vive le Sujet – Tentatives at Festival d Avignon 2024. Photo © Christophe Raynaud de Lage / Festival d’Avignon
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It’s all quite a performance at Avignon, with its IN and OFF festivals, its dancers and its audiences – including our writer, Robin Lamothe

Welcome to the Festival d’Avignon: 38 degrees in the shade (if you can find any), crowded restaurants, millions of flyers on the ground, and posters of varying degrees of interest. You meet people you haven’t seen for ages, and others you hoped you’d never see again. And then there are those titles of works that are so revolting because they perpetuate clichés. A nod to the company that named its play ‘Darling, I’ve cheated on you (and that’s not the worst of it)’ with an editorial that reads: ‘He’s a racist and his wife is cheating on him with an illegal immigrant.’ Get the picture? Ah, Avignon, where theatrical fantasy sometimes meets the comedy of the absurd, and where we wonder if our presence there isn’t a performance in itself.

Now among the world’s largest arts festivals, the Festival d’Avignon was founded in 1947 at the instigation of Jean Vilar, and was originally an artistic utopia, a revolt against the elitist and rigid theatre of the time. Today, that utopia has been transformed into a vast fair where the best and (sometimes) the worst of contemporary creation rub shoulders. The IN, where the company is paid by the festival to come, with its exorbitant prices and grandiloquent creations, this year offers a tiny programme of choreography that is often dated and hardly revolutionary. The OFF, where companies can be prepared to ruin themselves to gain visibility, with over 1,600 shows staged in theatres or private garages, often takes place in extremely precarious conditions, both technically and financially, for the artistic companies. Every summer, the streets of the city are transformed into a veritable cultural anthill, where we often wonder (if not every hour) if this liberal and ultra-competitive model isn’t heading for disaster.

So welcome to Avignon, where fiction meets reality, and where art juggles dream and survival. For this 2024 edition, the IN opened its doors in the majestic courtyard of the Palais des Papes with the latest creation by Angélica Liddell, known for her provocative works. True to her reputation, she is quick to criticise the profession of critic (charming attention). And the political context doesn’t help us to approach this edition calmly. With the dissolution of the French National Assembly and the worrying rise of fascism, this fiery opening promises an edition marked by confrontation and reflection, faithful to art as a mirror of our troubled society.

(My selection below is my own choice, and not at all exhaustive.)

 

At the Belle Scène Saint-Denis, the Dance Programme #1

Like every year, for the last 12 years it seems, the Théâtre Louis Aragon in Tremblay, just outside Paris, has migrated to Avignon to offer a panorama of diverse creations. The shows are never longer than 30 minutes, without lighting, on a small shaded stage in the courtyard of the theatre la Parenthèse. These are far from ideal conditions for presenting projects that have often matured over several weeks, or even months. Be that as it may, the intention is laudable and, in these troubled times, any opportunity to perform is precious. The entire network of the French choreographic sector is religiously present, so much so that one wonders if civil society is invited. Ah, the beauty of consanguinity!
The first morning programme of this first week opens at 10am from 2 to 6 July.

AC/DC by Agathe Pfauwadel and Aëla Labbé

Agathe Pfauwadel and Aëla Labbé present an extract from the creation AC/DC. Through dance, theatre and installation, we seem to be plunged into the mind of Jules Lebel, a 19-year-old dancer with autism. These are masterfully used as choreographic tools by the dancer and his acolyte, the performer Stéphane Imbert. Skilfully avoiding sentimentality, this moment lived in the present offers us a way of being in the world in all its flamboyance. We can only applaud this performance, which lights up the stage despite the constraints.

Jusqu'au moment où nous sauterons ensemble (Mélanie Perrier). © Mélanie Perrier
Jusqu’au moment où nous sauterons ensemble (Mélanie Perrier). © Mélanie Perrier

Jusqu’au moment où nous sauterons ensemble by Mélanie Perrier

With Jusqu’au moment où nous sauterons ensemble, choreographer Mélanie Perrier tackles the question of collective action. In an increasingly fragmented social climate, how can we account for the impossibility of uniting? Utopia would have us leap into new, resolutely humanist spaces, but we all know the limits of the human leap, which is no more than 2m45 (and I’m talking about a world record). This limit depicts our state of the world (sorry for the pessimism). The gestural decomposition of the jump brings together six performers dressed in transparent pale blue tulle costumes. Together, they strive to make common ground through play, challenge and collective impulse. It’s spare and sober, perhaps a little too solemn, even pious. It achieves its goal without giving us any hope for the future.

M&M by Amala Dianor

Amala Dianor, who needs no introduction in France, unveils his latest creation M&M to the spellbinding music of Awir Leon. The show features an encounter – an attempt at cross-fertilisation – between a contemporary dancer (Marion Alzieu) and a dancehall dancer (Mwendwa Marchand). I find myself immersed in a world of stereotypes, like walking into a saloon straight out of an old western film, where every character feels more like a cardboard cutout than a real person.

In 2024, it seems always anachronistic to try, with contemporary dance and hip-hop, to demonstrate a link between two aesthetics, histories, codes and bodies that seem so different. The dancers seem to discover each other, without really understanding – and consequently the show struggles to propose an imaginary world, or a new way of looking at this world. Despite the dancers’ undeniable commitment, the outcome looks somewhat clumsy, and clichéd.

Vive le sujet ! Tentatives – Série 1

Imagine a garden where virgins, far from praying, embark on hazardous artistic experiments. Welcome to the Jardin de la Vierge, where the performance series ‘Vive le sujet!’ transforms this lush setting into a playground for creative minds in search of inspiration. Initiated by the Société des auteurs et compositeurs dramatiques (SACD), this event encourages playwrights and artists to come up with short, multi-disciplinary works.


un ensemble (morceauz choisis), with Anna Massoni and Ola Maciejewska. Photo © Christophe Raynaud de Lage / Festival d’Avignon
un ensemble (morceauz choisis), with Anna Massoni and Ola Maciejewska. Photo © Christophe Raynaud de Lage / Festival d’Avignon

Un ensemble (selected pieces) by Anna Massoni

Choreographer Anna Massoni seeks to draw on the primary gestures of Loïe Fuller’s serpentine dances. But who today remembers this pioneer of dance, capable of making her veils twirl like no one else? Ah, maybe just the enthusiasts… A pulled-back hair bun, jeans and a black T-shirt, all sober, a far cry from Fuller’s exuberance. Sober, you say? I would add austere, to be polite.

The two performers (Massoni and Ola Maciejewska) launch into a series of strange, almost original gestures, carrying a form of animality, which seem to imitate living puppets through their mechanical movements and palpations, as if they were testing the joints of their own bodies. Imagine Cro-Magnon women in the Elite Model Agency version, exploring their own motor skills for the first time.

Alas, a thousand times alas, these gestural explorations fail to provoke emotion or reflection. In fact, some of the audience are quick to leave before the show is over, though perhaps because of the overcrowded Avignon schedule. It’s the barren desert of what contemporary dance can sometimes be: an aesthetic search that gets lost in sterile introspection. This proposal is part of a series called ‘Tentatives’, and that’s what it will remain for me: an unsuccessful attempt. An In for some, of course, but definitely not for me. All the best!


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Rebecca Journo, Canicular. From Vive le Sujet – Tentatives at Festival d Avignon 2024. Photo © Christophe Raynaud de Lage / Festival d'Avignon
Rebecca Journo, Canicular. From Vive le Sujet – Tentatives at Festival d Avignon 2024. Photo © Christophe Raynaud de Lage / Festival d'Avignon

Canicular by Rebecca Journo

On this sultry day, when the sound of cicadas reigns supreme and sun cream has already abandoned its promises, the title of Rebecca Journo’s new creation, Canicular, catches the eye (canicule means ‘heatwave’). A cross between a detective story and a summer scorcher, the choreographer slips into the shoes of a new character. Having previously explored the housewife and the wife, here Journo takes on the role of a swimmer from the 1960s, an insect woman addicted to sunbathing.

Lying on the floor, she begins a score for her navel, quickly evoking for me the film Alien and its many sci-fi fantasies. Intriguing and captivating, time seems to stretch like a long summer’s day. Journo’s dramaturgy incorporates a touch of magic when it emerges from its torpor to reveal a burnt body, a skin that is withering away. The body metamorphoses, playing on our summer fantasies. See that fly sticking to your skin as you try to relax? Did you know that this repetitive gesture can become a performance in its own right?

However, the constant frontality of the proposal is surprising. It would have been easy to exploit the multidimensionality of the space and the body, emanating singularly from this woman-cicada.

Journo manages, with biting finesse, to question our society of appearances. How far are we prepared to go for someone else, even if it means burning our skin? By using the cicada, that summer symbol of the south of France, she offers us a deliciously ironic mise-en-abyme, revealing the different layers of her work. So put on your sun cream and get ready to scratch beneath the surface.

Tendre Carcasse, by Arthur Perole. © Nina Flore Hernández
Tendre Carcasse, by Arthur Perole. © Nina Flore Hernández

The OFF Festival

Tendre Carcasse by Arthur Perole

The choreographer opens his show with small talk, a soundtrack revealing four dancers chatting informally off stage and then composing a biographical exquisite corpse. With the biting humour of a drag queen at a party, they share episodes from their lives, evoking our internal histories and the (perfect) imperfections of our bodies.

In a collective score, the performers take over the space and force themselves into it, dominated by a palpable interdependence. External forces seem to restrict them, trapping their movements in a choreographic loop where the key seems to be confiding in the audience. It’s like a therapy session, where the bodies end up expressing silent responses, leading to a trance of acceptance.

The atmosphere then shifts to extravagance: the glittery costumes and old school disco lighting reveal performers whose faces become caricatures, overly dramatic. The intensity of this excess is such that even a Jim Carrey might find it outrageous, but it remains captivating, nonetheless. This socially engaged creation, in its quest for self-acceptance and acceptance of others, is sure to draw in the crowds, offering a welcome reflection on a dreaming society that aspires to sensitivity and empathy.

At the end, a performer speaks on behalf of the company, recalling the French political context and stressing the vital importance of preserving art. This intervention is like a breath of fresh air in a choreographic field in constant search of its voice and its rights.

Ruuptuur by Mercedes Dassy

A dilemma: should I write about this show? It pushed my tolerance to the limit and made me question the very nature of my role as critic. This show provoked a rupture in me, a veritable invasion of revolt and anger over the course of this long session. Perhaps I’ve found my answer in this emotional whirlwind: it’s permissible, even necessary, to point out this rupture.

On a stage that looks more like an abandoned rehearsal room, four young women work around tables cluttered with notebooks, cans and flowers, accompanied by coloured touch screens designed to create a soundscape. They are clad in straps reminiscent of horse harnesses of dubious quality, one of which even breaks on one of the performers. Their movements seem constrained and uninspiring, punctuated by deafening screams. The sound and visual space seems to indicate that the choreographer has sought to provoke rupture, perhaps without giving too much thought to these essential elements.

My gaze instinctively fled from this lengthy proposal, which had provoked such an unexpectedly intense response from me.

This feeling led me to reflect on the responsibility of programming venues, particularly in a context such as Avignon, who take the risk of undermining the credibility of a choreographic programme by presenting works which, at least in my opinion, would have been better left forgotten.

Romain Berthet - Le Glaneur. Photo © Axel Queval
Romain Berthet – Le Glaneur. Photo © Axel Queval

Le Glaneur by Romain Berthet

Because that’s what Avignon is all about: recommendations that, depending on who’s giving them, can lead us to marvel at a proposal that has flown under the radar.

Such is the case with Romain Berthet’s latest creation, which took me back to my childhood. The tri-frontal show opens with a light-hearted rally: a schizophrenic character crosses the cramped space of the stage in a small go-kart, playing with our cinematic imaginations to capture our attention. The 90s are omnipresent, celebrating this seminal period (coinciding with my own birth, to boot).

Set to a polished, immersive soundtrack, the choreographer brilliantly embodies inconstancy and rupture, both in the body and in the performance, as a dramaturgical structure. We become attached to this grown-up child who just wants to play and relive his film memories. The impact of cinema on our identity is undeniable, and Berthet gleans this truth to expose the imprint of these works on our bodies.

A sensitive tribute to cinema.

It’s brilliant!

After IN and OFF, it’s over and out…

And so my Avignon Festival comes to an end after more than 40 shows, little sleep and total immersion in this 2024 edition.

What has emerged is that dance is increasingly trying its hand at the spoken word, sometimes forgetting that it requires a certain technique and real work in itself. That the contemporary dance sector must not forget for whom its works are intended: the public, not the inner circle. That the rules of the festival game are ruthless: you have to captivate the audience, please the critics, break even, network, and all under a blazing sun.

The whole experience prompted me to wonder about our collective responsibilities in participating, directly or indirectly, in this kind of festival. The works are scattered, the quality extremely variable, the pressure intense and the finances always tight. Finding the light at the end of the day? An arduous quest in this labyrinthine artistic field. Courage to the artists for the dark hours ahead. Yes, I admit, I’m rather pessimistic. Perhaps a consequence of sunstroke. Something to ponder under a parasol with a spritz, perhaps? 


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29.06.24–21.07.24, Avignon, France
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