The French director is exceptionally daring by merging internal and external spaces, or the theatre with ordinary life. The stage set in the Trafó was a forest scene, a clearing with snow everywhere. A white Citroen, from the 90s with a trailer appeared on stage. In it were four scruffy metalheads, pulling another two in a trailer. Later in the play, a grandmother wearing a Metallica shirt also appeared, as well as many cans of beer, bags of chips and plenty of artificial snow.
In this part of Europe these six middle-aged characters dress in leather and jeans. They wear long hair and listen to metal music that brings back very special memories. The set is devised of many fine details, the story presents itself in a dreamlike series of acts and the whole thing becomes rather baffling. The mysterious trailer is like a terrarium with glass walls, appearing as a shining light in the forest clearing. After all, the troupe is named Vivarium. The characters discuss a concert which they will miss because the car has broken down but they are not actual musicians. Instead, what they are preparing to set up is an amusement park. They bring out a fan, wigs, a soap-bubble blower and even a hand-held snow gun, which penetrate the "fourth wall" between the actors and audience.
But after some time, the performance gets a bit weary. The strong point of Quesne's play is that at certain points the details have been worked out to near perfection. One realizes that these characters could be very real even sitting in a Budapest pub some years ago, speaking bad English and drinking one beer after another. The illusion we get is perfect, with the entire mysterious situation characterized by awkwardness, senselessness and a bittersweet and petty sadness. Some kind of melancholy. But to call this theatre is a bit of an exaggeration.
