{"id":4968,"date":"2024-10-22T14:50:43","date_gmt":"2024-10-22T14:50:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/greek-theatre.gr\/review\/michel-fais-theatre\/"},"modified":"2024-10-22T15:56:18","modified_gmt":"2024-10-22T15:56:18","slug":"michel-fais-theatre","status":"publish","type":"review","link":"https:\/\/greek-theatre.gr\/en\/review\/michel-fais-theatre\/","title":{"rendered":"MICHEL FAIS’ THEATRE"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Stage Adventure of a Gaze<\/strong><\/p>\n

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\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 [Translation: Elena Delliou]<\/p>\n

From his Autobiography of a Book<\/em> (1994) and up to Burial<\/em> Offerings<\/em> (2012), Michel Fais constantly visits undisclosed but always provocatively present areas of memory and origin, love and family life, history and everyday life. His gaze\u2019s adventure continues in the theater; it started with theatrical adaptations of novels, and continued \u2013 especially in the last five years \u2013 with playwrighting.<\/p>\n

Dramatic adaptations of novels<\/strong><\/p>\n

For the first performances of Autobiography of a <\/em>Book (1995, Municipal Theatres of Komotini and Patra, director: Thodoris Gonis) and Married Couples<\/em> (2003, Metaxourgio theatre, director: Periklis Hoursoglou), the directors relied on material from Fais\u2019 novel of the same title and Aegypius Monachus<\/em> respectively.<\/em><\/p>\n

In 2006, at the Balcony of Amore Theatre, Thanos Anastopoulos directed a “theatrical documentary\u201d, in which the photographer and the homeless people of the photo album The City on its Knees<\/em> meet again in the “darkroom” of the stage. Greek Insomnia<\/em> spurred Roula Pateraki to bring to life the affectionate correspondence between the Reader and G. M. Vizyenos (2006, Embros theatre). Drawing from Aegypius Monachus<\/em>, Fais\u2019 most radical text, Lilly Meleme directed \u2013 in the mode of a ritualistic theatre of marginal transition \u2013 an author\u2019s inner journey of return and self-knowledge; not unlike a trout, this author moves against the current of a simple recounting of events, in an effort to reach the critical vacuum that the long night of the deportation of the Jews rendered the zero point of his life.<\/p>\n

Recently, the Basement of the Art Theatre presented the play La Petite Mort<\/em> (2014, director: Lilly Meleme), which is based on Burial<\/em> Offerings<\/em> \u2013 Fais\u2019 last, so far, novel. Three elegant women \u2013 former mistresses? figures from erotic fiction? fates of the love life? reincarnations of “ideal woman”-Mother? \u2013 unfold the unfulfilled loves of a melancholic author, enlivening \u2013 in a diverse three-way pattern \u2013 experiences, confessions and observations of the past. The tomb-bed that dominates the stage is the male voice\u2019s hideout; a voice which endures, sometimes with irritation and others condescendingly, the women\u2019s \u201cI know everything about you and something more\u201d air. It is only at the end of the play, when this female triangle retreats in the deceased person\u2019s brain and only his voice is left, when is revealed that the mourning writer has provided the archaeology of his erotic memory as “offerings” in the tomb of the Mother.<\/p>\n

“Love is the most powerful acid\u00bb<\/strong><\/p>\n

Like his novels, Fais\u2019 plays lack a \u2018plot\u2019, a \u2018storyline\u2019 that can be narrated or a clarified \u2018theme\u2019; no \u2018story\u2019 with a backbone, no firm \u2018meaning\u2019 to instill, or ideological \u2018message\u2019 to requite. If I only had a few words at my disposal to describe Michel Fais\u2019 plays, I would say that it essentially is the onstage adventure of a gaze upon historical, romantic, familial, random anthropogeographies. These \u2018data\u2019 are primarily gathered through eavesdropping passers-by, through the increased \u2013 almost obsessive \u2013 observation of scenes from the private and public realm, and \u00a0through the \u2018secret\u2019 reading the city\u2019s collective diary \u2013 always with a personal investment.<\/p>\n

In a way, Fais\u2019 unique narrative reality inadvertently passed in second place, when in the theatrical brochure of The Yellow Dog<\/em> (2009, Ex Machina theatre, dir. Lilly Meleme), the author described his first purely theatrical work as an \u201ctext of urgent linguistic reality\u201d, written \u201cin response to last December\u2019s [2008] attack with caustic acid against Konstantina Kuneva, a Bulgarian cleaning lady\u201d.<\/p>\n

The violence of fanatic intolerance which led to the premiere\u2019s cancellation and the restricted number of performances is well-known in Greece. However, what remains as an aesthetic main event after this round of claims regarding the symbol \u201cKuneva\u201d, is the dramatic character of Ruska Ruseva. Personally, I believe that the fact that this figure introduces herself to the spectator as an immediate relative of the undertaker (Autobiography of a Book<\/em>, 1994), of aunt Clara (From the Same Glass and Other Stories<\/em>, 1999), of the black vulture (Aegypius Monachus<\/em>, 2001) and the Reader (Greek Insomnia<\/em>, 2004), is more important than her appearance and exposure in the news. That is so, because Ruska Ruseva\u2019s \u2018political\u2019 significance in The Yellow Dog<\/em> is not \u2013 in my opinion \u2013 primarily found in the union action of this woman syndicalist, who was \u2018worn\u2019 the identity of an emblematic victim of the system; it is located in her intervention as the \u201cface of public love\u201d in the difficult \u2013 but necessary \u2013 dialogue between the gregarious everyday life of the joined crowd (the you<\/em>) and the marginal world of the others<\/em>. The \u2018red cleaner\u2019s\u2019 humanistic concern in The Yellow Dog<\/em> is summarized in the following quotation, which provided the motto of the play: \u201cLet us assume man<\/em> to be man<\/em>, and his relation to the world to be a human one. Then love can only be ex\u00adchanged for love, trust for trust, etc.” (K. Marx)<\/p>\n

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P.P.: Silent, disregarded, invisible, [we] clean your dirt. […] But beware, you who are like Augeas. Beware! We. A collective nothing. Beware of the collective nothing! […] We are the public faces of love. Yes. Are you laughing? That\u2019s what we are. […] Our work is love. That\u2019s where we earn our heavy and unhealthy living. All your garbage has a place in our hearts. Immigrants, homeless, deranged, junkies, perverts, criminals. The children that would be thrown in Keadas are our children.<\/em><\/p>\n

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As a dialectical indicator between the \u2018familiar\u2019 and the \u2018alien\u2019 from metropolis\u2019 transit ‘underground’ (in this case the dock of a Metro station), Ruska Ruseva asserts a world of love through the “politics” of the defenseless self. She takes in the voices of the others<\/em> \u2013 her speech is a multi-voiced raving” \u2013 to challenge our conniving. She uses the power of her weak position (\u201ca collective nothing\u201d that cleans with \u201cnightmares of Good\u201d) in order to restore a framework for dialogue, and enable the communication between the “Augeas-like people”(the public morals of the Centre) and the \u201cchildren of Keadas\u201d (the excluded ones, those who inhabit the margins of society, but also our own insecurities).<\/p>\n

Three plays of \u201ccomic despair\u201d \u2026 <\/strong><\/p>\n

In three one-act plays of the period 2011-2012 \u2013 described by Fais himself as “comedies of despair” (After Our Last Words, Feather Nothing, Someone to Hurt Them<\/em>) \u2013, love, family, psychoanalytical, and other “triangles” obscure \u2013 to varying degrees \u2013 the boundaries between public and private, past and present, real and dreamlike, farce and dramatic. Whether they levitate at the edges of an Ibsenian triangle (Andreas\/Chrissa\/Mania in After Our Last Words<\/em>), make their house a workshop of stage perfectionism (Athena\/Hannah and Abraham\/Alexander in Feather Nothing<\/em>), or destine their most loyal audience \u2013 namely, their children \u2013 for successive confrontations with their childhood mess (Someone to Hurt Them<\/em>), these troubled couples render the fury and mourning of their relationships, the absence of meaning in their perpetual conflict, and the pleasure of violence, a spectacle.<\/p>\n

… and a “raving of Athens\u00bb<\/strong><\/p>\n

In The Bench of Any <\/em>(2014, 104 theatre), two anonymous heroes (A.\/B.) and Alexia Kaltsiki\u2019s (the director\u2019s) disembodied voice are the protagonists of Fais\u2019 latest theatrical triangle. The two protagonists are ordinary people; simple, with no clear identity, but with insecurities and concealed fears. Developing their crosstalk through underlying humor, they emerge as true collectors of human energy in the megalopolis\u2019 transit society, as having a love for observation. On a bench \u2013 a favorite zone of fleeting encounters and impending separation in Fais\u2019 writing \u2013 the ardent and the neutral observer relay the public life\u2019s shattered present. They neither scream nor rave; they are not afflicted by its erraticness, its paroxysms or \u2013 on occasion \u2013 its unexpected tenderness. \u00a0Above all, they are captivated by a marginal contemplation that renegotiates the private and the public of (self) observing quest in the shared meeting time:<\/p>\n

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F.:\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0Concentrate on what you see. What do you see?<\/em><\/p>\n

A. , B.: \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Do we see what we see, or do we see who we are?<\/em><\/p>\n

F.: \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Who’s talking?<\/em><\/p>\n

A.: \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I!<\/em><\/p>\n

V.: \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I!<\/em><\/p>\n

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With passing interventions, the \u201cvoice\u201d readjusts the axis of tension that connects the two protagonists, now rendering it \u2013 with her own participation \u2013 a triangle. While the \u201cvoice\u201d catches the attention through relevant indications, she helps the patrons of observation take the decisive step out of themselves. The “hypnosis” presumes an inconceivable but deeply humane communication with the city\u2019s voices, and opens to more existential outlooks: Is our own subjectivity dependent on the observation of the other, and the “texts” that one carries? Is whatever is not observed (and cannot, therefore, be captured or voiced) as if it doesn\u2019t exist? What stimulates our relationship with others? Is the gaze a form of moral energy?<\/p>\n

With the blinding language of comic despair \u2013 or circular game of the self and the other \u2013 Fais\u2019 plays dissect the landscape of multiple crises (historical, familial, erotic, existential, and so on), in order to create a \u2013 primarily \u2013 literary event that diagnoses and mocks the spectacular pathogenesis of the private and public life itself, as well as our intimacy with its onscreen logic. Nevertheless, in Fais\u2019 theatrical triangles, the third term of mediation does not pretend to hold some liberating truth, neither does it make instructive comments to conceal or to resolve this (unuttered?) disorder. Desperately seeking alternative imitative ways, however, they aim for a better, humane life.<\/p>\n

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Soethaert<\/p>\n","protected":false},"template":"","categories":[11,12],"class_list":["post-4968","review","type-review","status-publish","hentry","category-essays","category-general-essays"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/greek-theatre.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/review\/4968","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/greek-theatre.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/review"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/greek-theatre.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/review"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/greek-theatre.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/review\/4968\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/greek-theatre.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4968"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greek-theatre.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4968"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}