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Playwright database |
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Seuls les vivants peuvent mourir
Aurore Jacob |  | | photo: Pierre Grosbois |
| | | 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.
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| "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
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| | Théâtre Ouvert - Festival FTO #2, 2016. |
| Characters : 3 women - 3 men -
Edition Tapuscrit - Théâtre Ouvert |
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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. 