Concurrently with I Am a Country, Vincent Macaigne is proposing a participatory performance around the themes of entertainment, imprisonment, the obstructed future and violence. A visual and plastic immersion into the world of the performing arts.
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Nota bene: il n’est pas possible de voir Je suis un pays et Voilà ce que jamais je ne te dirais dans la même soirée.
Ordre des spectacles: si vous souhaitez assister aux deux spectacles, nous vous recommandons de voir Voilà ce que jamais je ne te dirais un premier soir, Je suis un pays ensuite.
Horaires: Les spectacles étant en création et liés l’un à l’autre, l’horaire de Voilà ce que jamais je ne te dirais peut être amené à être modifié. Si c’était le cas, nous vous préviendrons par courriel ou SMS.
A découvrir: Enfin, les spectateurs de Voilà ce que jamais je ne te dirais sont invités à découvrir le premier moyen-métrage de Vincent Macaigne, Ce qu'il restera de nous, en premier partie de soirée (réservation conseillée).
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Robert Cantarella repeats the words of Gilles Deleuze during one of his seminars, finding the voice of the famous philosopher-teacher, with all of its intonations, its inflections, and its pauses. Thus emerges the craft of thought, and philosophy as addressed invention.
David Marton reinvents Vincenzo Bellini’s opera in this sensitive, contemporary piece - the first to be presented in the new Wooden Pavilion. Bellini’s melodies represent both a refuge and a hope for the four protagonists drawn into a game of desires and expectations.
The baroque and poetic theatre of Mapa Teatro continues its enquiry into celebration and violence in Colombia with La Despedida, a “goodbye party” invoking the ghosts of the FARC armed guerrilla.
Through this piece which “creates itself” over the years, Johann Le Guillerm - a poet-researcher, inventor-acrobat and sorcerer-clown - explores a not-so-imaginary world, inviting us on a poetic adventure somewhere between a balancing act, a tour de force and a daydream, under the marquee.
A journey through the work of the Algerian dancer and choreographer Nacera Belaza, and her minimalist, sensual and spiritual dances. From a solo to a four-hander and back to a three-hander, she naggingly explores processes of letting-go, that might foil her existential solitude.
A woman tells the story of how, over the course of a year, she organised her intimate and professional life around a passionate love affair. Emilie Charriot stages this autobiographical fiction by Annie Ernaux by bringing together the games and rules of love, and the theatre’s techniques of hide-and-seek.
The boss of a start-up hires an out-of-work actor to play his own role, so as to avoid dealing with his unpopular decisions. Oscar Gómez Mata’s theatre of the absurd adapts this exuberant comedy, inspired by a Lars von Trier scenario.
A solitary body glides peacefully from posture to posture, sometimes grotesque, sometimes poised. As if it were exploring the expressiveness and the memory of the possibilities it is discovering, it conjures up a sensitive and amusing dance, dedicated to the perception of its spectator.
Robert Cantarella repeats the words of Gilles Deleuze during one of his seminars, finding the voice of the famous philosopher-teacher, with all of its intonations, its inflections, and its pauses. Thus emerges the craft of thought, and philosophy as addressed invention.
An import-export hangar, Laurent Poitrenaux as a hilariously paranoid Harpagon, and a jolly troupe who play on the paradoxes of Molière’s characters as rebellious teenagers or obsequious employees. This comedy is as spirited as it is cruel, in a world where money prevails over relationships and feelings.
Augustin Rebetez is back, flooding Vidy with his dreamlike world, peopled with machine-animals and puppet-poets. The Age of Brambles speaks to our era of proliferation, speed, scatteredness and thorns.
With Guerrilla, the Swiss-Catalan group El Conde de Torrefiel offers a unique theatrical, electric and political experience in three tableaux. What emerges is a sort of surprising mirror of our lives today, and what links us to each other: the ordinariness of existence and a common future.
What would Frankenstein be today? A scientific invention, probably. Or perhaps an actor? Jean-François Peyret stages the tragic hope of the scientist who experiments on the living and against the dead: the contemporary scientist as modern Prometheus.
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