It is first of all an admission of helplessness, this open letter to “Monsieur” – the rich man, the man of power, the politician. Because the little people are never heard: at best, they serve as extras in electoral campaigns.
The virus and the prey resolutely takes the side of the masses, because we can only get out of this together. (As much as some would have you believe, you are definitely traffic. The stats are you.)
The king is naked
This machine which crushes the human being and life, “the system” of which Monsieur is a part, is meaningless. The political masquerade only serves to renew itself. If by chance a person comes forward with the hope of making a difference, the machine will quickly swallow them up – or spit them out. (We have seen examples of this recently.) The same goes for the ideas, the meaningful words, which politics chews up until only a bleached, bland paste remains.
Except that. We may feel like a stranger to the machine, but the fact remains that it governs our existence.
The virus and the prey operate a reversal, give voice back to the masses that the system usually silences. Against the established order, violent indignation is justified.
In the center, literature
Benoît Vermeulen’s sober staging leaves plenty of room for words and Pierre Lefebvre’s figures of speech. Literature occupies the space, while the four actors, individuals representing the entire crowd, embody the text and carry all its emotional charge.
The dance movements, the creaking sounds punctuating certain moments evoke the uneasiness that one feels in front of the implacability of the system, all these alarm signals that one no longer hears. These elements being used sparingly, their effect is increased tenfold.
And yet it is about theatre, a framed and therefore harmless work.
As part of the Carrefour international de théâtre, the play The virus and the prey is presented again at Le Diamant on Saturday and Sunday, June 4 and 5. (Will there be gentlemen in the room?)
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