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Seuls les vivants peuvent mourir
Aurore Jacob
Seuls les vivants peuvent mourir
photo: Pierre Grosbois
Actes du théâtre n° 94.[ imprimer ]
The grandmother's not quite all there and the girl has had a car accident. The father doesn't know what role to play anymore, the son is absent, the mother is keeping up appearances and the fiancé is just trying to fit in.
Like in every family story there are unspoken things and secrets. And that inability to put words on it corrupts everything.
The play deals with the end-of-life question in a tender and poetic way. Without stigmatizing the debate over euthanasia it brings to light society's struggle to be coherent and plan for the future while getting lost in the present.

"Seuls les vivants peuvent mourir focuses its dramatic composition on an area of space-time where things leak out, fade and slip away. We are at a time of life where there is a persistent confusion in people, and in their words and their deeds. In her writing and dramatic composition Aurore Jacob takes us to the edge of that end of life, the floating quality making the tragic story lighter without taking away its depth. Through the apparent ordinariness of the exchanges, she catches the intensity of what is at stake, using a minor key, and thanks to her precise stylistics, takes a deeper look at the countdown that is ticking away for all of us."
Madeleine Louarn, November 2015, program presentation - FTO#2 - Théâtre Ouvert

Théâtre Ouvert - Festival FTO #2, 2016.

Characters : 3 women - 3 men -
Edition Tapuscrit - Théâtre Ouvert

The "/" are spaces with no words. But since nature abhors a vacuum, it may happen that these holes are filled with bits of lines that precede or follow the ellipsis. Sometimes. It can trigger accidents or colliding meanings or duos that develop as a counterpoint or as words on the offbeat or syncopation in speech or a thought that skips like a record and bangs against the sides of the skull and the things that are said. You can also choose to ignore them like musical measures. Invisible to the ear. It's all a question of rhythm. Nothing is systematic. Everything is a question of measure. The "//" mark a sigh or a silence or a pause or a measure that ends a piece. A moment when thought gets stuck and goes into a different space-time.
A door opens. Without anyone introducing themself. The door opened. Behind the door an old woman, probably a grandmother, is putting away what look like photographs in a metal box. Red or white. It's hard to see. Probably one of those boxes of chocolate people give as gifts at Christmas.

MUTTI oh it's you
GIRL nothing but me yes nothing more than me who just rang your doorbell
MUTTI yes / right / you / yes / what is it / oh yes it's
GIRL I'm a bit late
MUTTI right / yes / you

GIRL can I come in
MUTTI I don't expect anyone / as a rule
GIRL as a rule does it bother you when I come to your house without calling
MUTTI precisely
GIRL without being considerate without taking off my shoes when I come in
MUTTI at the moment / yes / oh / I don't expect anything from anyone / nothing at all / really / that's all I expect / nothing / yes / total / I don't expect / from anyone / from anything / yes / no one comes and rings my doorbell anymore
GIRL I'm here