Skip to main content Skip to footer site map

Review: The Festival d'Avignon Presents FLESH By Sophie Linsmaux and Aurelio Mergola

Flesh reminds us of this, but it lets us laugh at the attempt.

Review: The Festival d'Avignon Presents FLESH By Sophie Linsmaux and Aurelio Mergola

Most times in Avignon, when a work is called something ominous like Blood, Bones, or, as is the case for Sophie Linsmaux and Aurelio Mergola's new work, Flesh, the worst is to be expected. The experience might be transformative, but it'll be a taxing journey. Happily, the two artists tackle questions of our relationships to our bodies with dark humor. Set in four vignettes at Avignon's Gymnase du Lycée Mistral, Flesh is Avignon's answer to Charlie Chaplin.

Flesh's first sequence is of a young man going to see who we presume to be his grandfather in the hospital on his deathbed. He is put in a full PPE suit. While sitting alone by his unresponsive grandfather's hospital bed, his cellphone rings. He can't get it to unlock with his gloves on. For a moment he considers using the sleeping sick man's hand. He thinks better of this. Then, finally when he's been able to take off his gloves, the phone's ringtone mingles with the noise of the heart monitor flat lining. He turns the phone off.

The next sequence is of a wealthy couple. The man is covered in bandages from plastic surgery. He hands the woman a gift, scissors. She releases his bandages. He's pleased. She isn't. They discover that something's gone wrong and his face is moldable like clay. He is transformed from a caricature to a monster. The third scene is of a woman going to virtual reality arcade. She chooses "The Titanic Adventure." She is plunged into the story from the film. Lastly, four people mourn the death of a bartender, perhaps she's their mother. There is some disagreement from the outset, but when the ashes are fought over, the tension heats to a boil.

The company performs a remarkable balancing act. They allow the world to be introduced, build an atmosphere, and play with theme, without the scene either feeling like a single punch line, or outstaying its welcome. The actors convey a great deal without any dialogue. Muriel Legrand almost stops the show with her hilarious "Titanic Adventure." Her commitment to this dream immersive experience moves between touching and absurd. Jonas Wertz as the arcade attendee performs his function of "not paid enough for this crap" with convincing deadpan humor. Aurelio Mergola communicates much with his body, as he has to perform without dialogue or a face in the second scene. Lastly, Sophie Linsmaux is irresistible as both the horrified wife and then, in the final sequence, as a pregnant woman on a mission.

The performance transitions with a curtain that rolls in between sequences. It covers a raised platform, calling to mind a car showroom. The curtain has slots in it, so atmospheric lighting can be seen on the other side. Lighting designer Guillaume Toussaint Fromentin helps carve out the atmosphere, helping us understand when we are in a workplace comedy, a New Yorker cartoon, or a dark sitcom. Set design by Aurélie Deloche, while not minimalist, is simple enough for quick changes. Lastly, sound design by Eric Ronsse is hilariously precise. Whoever is responsible for making the ringtone in the open sequence "Mambo Number Five," bravo.

We are all held responsible for our bodies. Though no matter how much we tell ourselves we're the ones in control, our bodies will continue to shock us. We will undermine it and it will undermine us. We throw newer and newer technologies at it in an attempt to transcend our human flesh. It is a losing battle. Flesh reminds us of this, but it lets us laugh at the attempt. On the 400th anniversary of Molière's birth, it's good to remind audiences that comedy can deal with serious business.

Photo Credit: Christophe Raynaud de Lage

From This Author - Wesley Doucette

Wesley Doucette is a PhD student in French Literature at the CUNY Grad Center. His research focuses include French cultural institutions such as the Festival d'Avignon and the innovations of administrators... (read more about this author)

Review: The Festival d'Avignon Presents THE LINE IS A CURVE By Kae Tempest
July 28, 2022

The 76th Festival d'Avignon officially concluded last night with Kae Tempest's The Line is a Curve at the Cour d'Honneur. This is the fifth album by Tempest. Previous works include Brand New Ancients, which I had the benefit of seeing some years back at New York's St. Ann's Warehouse. Their work in that instance was a transporting piece of storytelling. It was a very sober affair. The Line is a Curve started that way, but quickly became the cathartic rock concert to end the annual Festival.

Review: The Festival d'Avignon Presents SILENT LEGACY By Maud Le Pladec and Jr Maddripp
July 28, 2022

Silent Legacy, now in performance at the Festival d'Avignon's Cloître des Cèlestins, asks questions about points of exchange. The relationship between the dancer and choreographer is complex. Literarily focused theatre's collaborative quality sometimes benefits from the boundaries made by script writing. In this way, the playwright has a product outside the performance. In most instances with dance, the work can only exist within the body of the performer. Silent Legacy presents its audience with two such points of exchange.

Review: The Festival d'Avignon Presents RICHARD II By Christophe Rauck
July 25, 2022

According to a poll taken in 2016, a little more than half of all British people have seen or read Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. That number dips just below half for Macbeth and Midsummer. The Tempest rounds out the Top 10 at 22% engagement. Deep down in this list at 7%, tucked between Merry Wives of Windsor and Love's Labour's Lost, is Richard II. This obscurity was seen as a feature not a bug for Jean Vilar when he opened the first Festival d'Avignon with Richard II in 1947. Since this performance, the play has become something of a hallmark of French theatre. This year, Christophe Rauck adds his own directorial vision at the Festival's Gymnase du Lycée Aubanel with Micha Lescot in the title role.

Review: The Festival d'Avignon Presents DU TEMPS OÙ MA MÈRE RACONTAIT By Ali Chahrour
July 25, 2022

One of the most famous images of 20th century theatre is that of Brecht's Mother Courage who, when told she needs to remain incognito when her son is shot, offers a silent scream. In Ali Chahrour's Du Temps Où Ma Mère Racontait, now in performance at Avignon Université's Cour Minérale, Laïla Chahrour similarly unhinges her jaw into a scream, though it's anything but silent. Undergirded by musicians playing behind her, she cries into the audience, her voice rising into the starry sky. In the face of all the tragedy she has explored with her family, it is a resonating moment of catharsis.

Review: The Festival d'Avignon Presents LE SACRIFICE By Dada Masilo
July 25, 2022

Choreographer Dada Masilo, a South African native, studied dance at Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker's school in Brussels. While there she developed an appreciation for the grand patrimonial dance-works. Her company, Dance Factory Johannesburg, has made a name for itself through oftentimes-comedic deconstructions of European classics like Swan Lake, and Giselle. In Le Sacrifice Masilo has decided to address a different dance classic, Le Sacre du Printemps. It was a long road to the Festival for Le Sacrifice, now performing in Avignon's Cour du Lycée Saint-Joseph. The piece has been twice canceled due to Covid. While her movement vocabulary lacks in imagination, the performances themselves were thrilling.