The piece performed in Budapest last year and this year's A Little Tenderness for Crying Out Loud are part of a trilogy, the concluding instalment of which will likely be a sold-out performance at next year's drama festival. The performance shown this year gives viewers plenty to ponder.
What we saw was dance theatre - with few, but excellent, words - which succeeded in maintaining a sparkling tension for a full two hours, an extraordinary achievement in itself.
Examining it from different aspects, St-Pierre's performance crossed a line and continued further. Some might call the performance pornographic, provocative or insulting, though these descriptors would not be accurate, considering the stuff one can see on television even before midnight.
Just two members of the audience walked out of St-Pierre's sold-out performance after seven performers, wearing nothing but blonde wigs, climbed through the crowd at the beginning of the show. The host of the evening, a demonic vamp called Sabrina, was the last to enter. She sat in a deep, red armchair, but did not stay put for long. Sabrina provoked, tested and played with the audience, reflecting the audience's reaction sometimes before they even had time to do so.
The performance caused jaws to drop. There was dancing, acting and risk-taking. It was uninhibited, in the best sense of the word. At the same time, however, it was as sharp as a diamond. The vividly alternating scenes were based on contrasts: weakness and strength, subordination and rule, woman and man, admirer and leader, and indeed, tenderness and cruelty. We saw characters collapse and lose themselves in seconds, we saw the joy of victory and of total self-sacrifice.
The men "changed gender" several times during the show, though they did not become female impersonators. This screaming, narcissist, preening horde of men was a breed all their own. The women, as their roles dictated, remained in the background most of the time. The image of painful world was outlined in Sabrina's stories and the dances that illustrated them. Though many laughed as she repeatedly fell on her behind, they soon realised the sense of darkness creeping into the play.
St-Pierre masterfully cut short every atmospheric moment and unexpectedly turned every feeling. Shocking or moving moments were resolved with bawdy jokes. Spectators were faced with so many new developments on the stage and their senses were bombarded with so many new sensations that they must have felt dizzy by the final scene of the performance, in which all 15 of the performers disrobed and began to slide and roll on the water-soaked stage to the music of Arvo Pärt. Some in the audience laughed, some sat silent.
Author: Tamás Halász
