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Plage
Virginie Barreteau
Plage
DR
Actes du théâtre n° 50.[ imprimer ]
In this play, otherwise known as Plage, you should disregard everyday affairs such as work, family, the stock market, etc., and just leave all that out of it. And since the scope of the play is too narrow and not conducive to soul-searching, one should just sit back and enjoy a sweet moment of repose, embellished with a few sighs and memories here and there, like those of Mrs. A whom we find lying on a deck chair.” V. Barreteau.

“Virginie Barreteau has an innate feeling for the stage and for the pacing of her dialogue, which is wickedly effective, plain and tightly wound. (…) In Plage, V. Barreteau’s writing explores new forms. Although it features the same rapid-fire dialogue, this time it comes with long and very specific scene indications. It’s something totally original, a new path she’s trying to invent and explore.”
Jean-Pierre Han, Revue Friction.net, March 2011

Opened at the Glob Théâtre pour Nov’Art in Bordeaux, November 2010.
Director: Frédéric Maragnani. Cast: Amélie Jailliet, Luc Cerruti.

Characters : 1 women - 1 men -
Editions Quartett - www.quartett.fr

MRS. A Do you remember we walked and walked and the marsh was white as white as a long blade you could see nothing nothing but the line made by the ocean far off nothing but that and nothing nothing but white and we walked and walked you with your little child’s parka and your scarf I knitted you a scarf, mothers did that once knitting for those on their way, and your father do you remember your father with the dog for once your father was there you were happy happy that we were there all three of us my god how you frolicked, and everything was quiet not a sound but the great crows that sometimes woke us and that your father killed with his hands pretending bang bang and you laughed and you laughed and the dog yapped and it was as if we were alone in the world the three of us with the dog it was as if they had all died or never come just us with our noise our dog and our love that was possible once in the countryside you could make yourself believe that.

THE SON And my sister?

MRS. A Oh right, your sister?

A scratches her head.
MRS. A But you were first, what can I say! A pity for your sister. She’s not part of our memory. She came after. That’s also why I prefer you to her. I’ve known you longer.

THE SON I think she’s expecting. Her smile...

MRS. A Ah…

A plunges her hand into a bag full of mints, pops one in her mouth and sucks on it. Then she remembers the daughter lives in the country so...

MRS. A So she won’t be lacking in memories like this one! Living in the country. But these days it’s nothing like it used to be, the country, it means something totally different now… What does she think! Wanting to live her own life! Not like other people. Do you think she’d could come and visit us here!
So says the mother, settling the issue, then she imagines her daughter in turn becoming a wife and mother with father, dog and child in the vast expanse of white and the father going bang bang but really pretending this time because there are no crows left. In this day and age!