Moving Uncertainties: Negotiating ‘Theatre in Movement’ and Field-work Research in the French Context

Escale is a travelling physical theatre company based in France. For most of the past twenty years, its members have lived in caravans and performed in a marquee, bringing experimental performances to rural areas. Their itinerant lifestyle and artistic choices do not only situate them in the margins of the French theatrical landscape, but also in a terminological gap, as ‘physical theatre’ does not exist as a genre in France in the same way that it does in the UK. Therefore, to create and promote its work, Escale negotiates several disciplines and vocabularies. Such terminological uncertainty also influences my position as a researcher: it raises questions about the translation of a vocabulary developed in one context, and its adaptability to a similar practice in a different context. There does not yet exist in French an adequate lexicon for the kind of physical theatre that Escale practices. As a researcher, this has forced me to question the relationship I have with French, my mother tongue. The position of the researcher as an ethnographer, the influence of physical labour on my relationship with and approach to Escale, as well as the ethics of friendship and dialogue between researcher and artist are also issues generated by Escale’s position in transitional zones, in-between disciplines, in-between identities. Physical Theatres in the French context: Negotiating Marginalised Identities. The stage is divided by three walls of plexiglass. On either side, a couple is dancing, each mirroring the other. From where the camera stands, the couples appear symmetrically on each side of Platform 5.1, Transformations 80 the fine line created by the plexiglass walls. The women grab their partners by the chin, passing an arm around the back of their necks. In this position, looking at the men’s faces, they direct their partners and walk toward the camera, in a line parallel to the walls. An instant later, the couples have returned to where they started. The women stand two metres away from the walls, their backs turned to the plexiglass. The men stand behind them. They pass an arm around the women’s waists, and hold tightly so that their bodies touch their partners.’ They push a leg backward, wrapping their free arm around the women’s throats. Holding their partners, they turn and swing them slightly to face the wall. They hold a minute, as if looking at the reflection in a mirror, rather than at another couple. At this moment, an image of a brick wall is projected onto the stage, and onto the male performers’ bodies. The contours of the bricks cover the surface of the men’s bodies, which become moving prisons, as the bricks remain still on their dancing forms. (Façades, 2009) Escale is a company that aims to produce ‘total theatre,’ ‘pushing further the boundaries of theatre, mime, dance, circus and object theatre’ (Escale ‘Gestuel’).1 Formed at the beginning of the 1990s by Hugues Hollenstein and Grit Krausse, respectively French and German, the company became itinerant when the couple’s children were born. In order to deal with the constraints of intensive touring without being separated from their progeny, Hollenstein and Krausse decided that life on the road was the best option. After a dramatic car accident that destroyed all their material, the company was hosted by the new circus collective Les Oiseaux Fous. It is in this context that Escale discovered the use of marquees, and eventually purchased two. After a few years of collaboration, Escale started touring more on its own, and in 1998 it became fully itinerant, not settling down again until 2004. The work Escale produces might be labelled ‘physical theatre’ if it were performed in the UK. The French language, however, has no linguistic equivalent to the term ‘physical theatre.’ Instead, to translate the expression, it proposes a multiplicity of approximate terms such as ‘théâtre gestuel,’ ‘théâtre corporel, or ‘théâtre visual.’2 I argue that if there are no terms in French, however 1 Author’s translation : ‘un théâtre total, ‘nous jouons à repousser les frontières du théâtre, du mime, de la danse, du cirque et du théâtre d'objet.’ 2 ‘Gestural theatre,’ ‘corporeal theatre,’ or ‘visual theatre.’ Moving Uncertainties 81 general, that provide an equivalent to ‘physical theatre,’ it is likely because such work is far from being dominant in the French theatrical tradition. On the other hand, this terminological lacuna complicates the ways in which physical practices can be presented in France. The term ‘physical theatre’ is highly unsatisfying, and I agree with Simon Murray and John Keefe who propose that speaking about ‘physical theatres’ instead would allow an acknowledgement of these practices’ inherent multiplicity.3 Critical discourse on ‘physical theatres’ is therefore problematised by the divergent plurality of practices categorised as such. More, many commentators rely on vocabularies borrowed from dance studies to analyse movement in performance. The equation is, in the case of Escale, more complicated, as the company develop their work in a context where theatre studies is still heavily informed by literary criticism and much less academic attention is focused on dance. In this context, Escale’s shows inhabit a liminal space, drawing on a multiplicity of disciplines and terminologies. Its situation therefore inflects and influences my position as a researcher who wishes to study the company’s work from the perspective of ‘physical theatres.’ Both Hollenstein and Krausse consider the work they create and perform to be inseparable from their choice for itinérance. The one is at the same time cause and consequence of the other: it is because they are a ‘theatre of movement’ that they also are ‘theatre in movement’4 (Personal Interview). Putting a great emphasis on physicality in their shows, Escale locate their work on the margins of the theatrical landscape. Contemporary theatre practice in France often places considerable importance on the text, and on language.5 Several critics have noted that this tendency consists of ‘putting the character in brackets,6 and with them all practices that relate to 3 There is indeed no exhaustive definition of ‘physical theatre’: as Murray and Keefe suggest, ‘[it] is [...] about intersections, cross-over and spillages’ (1). Physical theatres are composite, made from a multiplicity of techniques. 4 Author’s translation: ‘théâtre en mouvement’ and ‘théâtre du mouvement.’ 5 Consider for example the experimental playwriting of Valère Novarina, Hubert Colas or Nadège Prugnard, or the work of director Claude Régy, whose latest production Ode Maritime (2009) consists of an actor standing still on stage and delivering a text by Fernando Pessoa. 6 The fact that this expression uses a metaphor borrowed from writing (‘brackets’) strikes me as an illuminating example of this tendency. Platform 5.1, Transformations 82 psychological interpretation, in order to give the text the most important place’ (Didong 7). The centrality of the text in many contemporary productions is echoed by the prevalence of a language borrowed from literary studies for artists to speak about their work, and for academics to analyse performance. In interviews conducted with French actors who worked with director Claude Régy, Paola Didong noted that the expressions used by these artists compared their work on stage with the labour of the writer (138). The centrality of a literary referent is also characteristic of theatre studies in France, as one can see in recent work that explores the voice in the text, or the legacy of the Aristotelian concept of mimesis in contemporary performance. Criticism that focuses on physical practices is rare, and often influenced by a strong literary tradition also. The situation of dance studies in France is particularly illuminating in this respect. Gore, Louppe and Piollet note that although dance in France is highly respected on stage, ‘it has not been granted any theoretical importance, and it is still considered as minor in that aspect’ (Gore, Louppe and Piollet 36). This is still the case, as one can see when researching the courses offered in dance studies by French universities: only four institutions propose a dance studies course at Masters level, against twenty-one in the UK; among them, just three offer PhD programs, as opposed to ten for the UK (Centre National de la Danse; Postgraduateresearch.com). The position of the Jacques Lecoq school, still considered by many student actors to occupy a limited niche in actor training, is another significant example of the way physical practices are perceived in France. David Bradby suggests that the marginalisation of the school is caused by its absence of any written protocol or treatise, a feature he sees as ‘unusual in a theatre culture which [...] still values new developments in theatre practice partly by the extent to which they give rise to [...] theoretical discourses’ (Bradby 89). This is even 7 Author’s translation: ‘...mettre entre parenthèses le personnage et avec lui toutes les pratiques relevant d’une interprétation psychologique, afin de donner au texte la première place.’ 8 Several studies in France do indeed focus on questions such as the disappearance of the character, the importance of the voice, and of dialogical structures, such as the actual plot of contemporary theatre. See for example Jean-Pierre Ryngaert and Julie Sermon, Denis Guénoun, and Arnaud Rykner. 9 And indeed, as Bradby notes further in his analysis, Antonin Artaud’s ‘total theatre,’ although calling for a distanciation from texts, has been defined by Artaud in several different writings (Bradby 90). Moving Uncertainties 83 more surprising when considering the fame and respect accorded to the school abroad, especially in the UK. A similar paradox can be observed in the practice of mime. In fact, although several of the most influential mime masters are French – Marcel Marceau, or Étienne Decroux, with whom Hollenstein trained – the genre is under-represented, often considered outdated by a public which still often associates it with Marceau’s iconic white-faced character Pip. Several artists also regret the lack of a terminology capable of accurately reflecting their practice, a concern voiced by members of Schlémil Théâtre in a survey initiated by the Centre National du Mime: ‘it is difficult to put a name on the artistic form we defend, which is neither theatre or dance, and not only mime’ (qtd. in CNM 24). In this survey, several companies expressed their regret at the absence of funding, networks and touring opportunities in France. Artists whose work focuses on physicality were – and still are – debating the legitimacy of their practice and aesthetic. Escale’s work is, in light of these problems, very hard to classify. Lacking a better term, the company’s work is usually described as either ‘théâtre gestuel’ or ‘théâtre corporel,’ or sometimes ‘théâtre visual.’ It shares a professional network with practices such as mime, new circus, puppetry and street theatre. Indeed, Escale’s work shares some key features with each of these art forms: Est ou Ouest (2009) is, for example, constructed around Grit Krausse’s aerial acts on the silk. Aucun Poisson Ne Rit des Souvenirs (1992), Escale’s first show, bears the marks of Hollenstein’s training in corporeal mime with Decroux; Façades borrowed movement vocabularies from contemporary dance. However, Escale practitioners are most often associated with these networks because of their itinerant lifestyle rather than their actual work. They belong to marginal street theatre cultures, and to the 10 The Centre National du Mime is a structure created and run by Etienne Bonduelle, whose efforts are directed toward institutional and public recognition of practices currently regarded as mime. The CNM has an acute lack of funding, and its breadth and impact have dramatically regressed over the past five years. 11 It is worth noting that none of these expressions are clearly defined, and sometimes can appear to have contradictory meanings: for example, however vague and tautological ‘visual theatre’ may sound, the term is often associated with what might in the UK be described as physical theatre practices or contemporary mime, but on the other hand it is sometimes used to differentiate physical theatre practice from ‘mime corporel’ (author’s translation: ‘corporeal mime’) (Martinez 18). Platform 5.1, Transformations 84 travelling theatre network, but they do not consider either their productions or their lifestyle to be characteristic of any specific community (Hollenstein and Krausse, E-mail). The interdisciplinarity inherent to Escale’s work and the generic in-between space that it inhabits in France are mirrored in the physical, geographical position induced by the company’s life choices. In fact, there is a close relation between Escale’s physicality and mobility. Being able to travel means that its members can perform in geographically remote areas, in villages deserted by cultural life. It also means that the company is out of the usual commercial circuit, something voiced by Escale as a political decision. In a conversation on nomadism published in the street performance journal Stradda, Hollenstein insists on the necessity for itinerant companies to ‘organise travels that are more personal, and not influenced by opportunities of being programmed in festivals’ (qtd. in Voisin 26). Escale map out their touring trajectories by establishing strong contacts with local communities, a feature that allows them to perform in marginal areas but that also excludes them from much of the theatrical landscape of the country. Escale is well-known and respected among mime and itinerant theatre networks; it also receives ‘aide à l’itinérance’ from the state, as part of a scheme designed to help circus companies fund the costs of itinérance. But because its members very rarely appear in mainstream theatre festivals, and never perform in traditional theatre buildings or in big towns, Escale remains invisible to most theatre-goers. Although there is a deliberate and conscious choice on Escale’s part to avoid mainstream networks, the company also regrets the lack of public visibility it is afforded twenty years after its creation. Hollenstein recognises his own responsibility in dealing badly with promoters, acknowledging his feelings of suspicion toward them (Informal 12 Author’s translation: ‘Il faut [re]prendre des voyages plus personnels qui ne s’appuient pas sur des trajets de programmation établis.’ 13 Escale was, for example, invited in 2008 to a national round-table on mime practices in France, at Le Vieux-Colombier, along with high-profile personalities such as Lucile Bodson, director of the International Institute for Puppetry of Charleville-Mézières, and Jean-Claude Cotillard, director of École Supérieure d’Art Dramatique de Paris. It also often appears in articles about itinérance, and occupies a significant place in the itinerant community, an achievement emphasised by Hollenstein’s position as a director of the CITI (International Centre of Itinerant Theatre) between 2000 and 2007. Moving Uncertainties 85 Interview).14 I argue that Escale’s difficulty in performing outside the networks to which it is usually relegated – circus, mime, street theatre – also has to do with the nature of the work it produces, namely performances that do not fit within the boundaries of preestablished categories because they fuse together many techniques that are not often discussed in critical terms. Being itinerant, Escale engenders a unique overlap of living, rehearsal and performance space. Its camp and marquee blur the boundaries between different kinds of theatre space, naturally raising questions about the notions of openness and enclosure. When Escale sets up its camp, it builds an inside from an outside: the tent, for example, has to be mounted from poles and plastic to create the final marquee. The marquee, built on the ground of whichever town the group settles in and surrounded by Escale’s caravans, is a way to ‘invite people into our home, into their home’15 (Hollenstein and Krausse, Personal Interview). The camp and the marquee simultaneously constitute what Gay McAuley defines as performance spaces, rehearsal spaces, public spaces and private spaces (94). During the time when Escale was a full-time itinerant company, the box-office and the lavatories were situated in old-fashioned caravans, open to the public on performance nights. These private spaces – the company’s bathroom, in a bright green caravan, and offices, in a deep aubergine one – were then transformed into public spaces. On these occasions, Escale’s settlement was the place where the show was happening, but also where the company’s atypical lifestyle was put on display. The whole settlement would become ‘presentational space’ constituted of ‘both the architectural features of the stage as it exists in any given theatre [...] and the organization of this space for the production in question’ (McAuley 79). The marquee constitutes the stage on which the show is performed, but it also occupies a central position in the whole settlement: the caravans are organised around it, it attracts attention by its size and colour, and it epitomizes both itinérance and the prospect of entertainment. Therefore, the marquee and the spaces that exist ‘outside’ it but within the boundaries of the camp – the caravans, the truck that can be turned into a kitchen – become spaces for the performance of itinérance. 14 This attitude seems to be influenced by a general feeling of defiance and suspicion from Escale toward the establishment. One wonders whether this suspicion is only one-sided. 15 Author’s translation: ‘on invite les gens chez nous, chez eux.’ Platform 5.1, Transformations 86 Escale’s members live an alternative life, producing their work on the geographical and cultural margins of the country, and they are above all else concerned with leading an existence that is politically coherent. Their everyday life is built on an alternative understanding of the collective, and physical tasks are shared independently of gender considerations. Indeed, over the years, their artistic work has become increasingly radical. Their latest show for example, Est ou Ouest, might be considered as agit-prop, pamphleteering for a reconsideration of socialism. The action of bringing experimental performances to culturally excluded rural areas, and of organising workshops in high schools located in the countryside of the Région Centre, is completely dependent on this extreme-left political ideal. Using Baz Kershaw’s analysis of the radical in theatre, I argue that what makes Escale an activist company also lies in its rooting in physical theatre. Due to its context of production, in which there is an important connection between literacy and performance, the company’s work situates it on the fringes of alternative art because it does not necessarily need to relyon a literary referent: its physical theatre becomes one of the ‘alternative underground “genres” [...] that established [it] [...] beyond the cultural mainstream’ (Kershaw 59). Moreover, Kershaw, drawing on Lefebvre’s concept of the theatre building being ‘shaped by the ruling ideologies’ argues that performances happening inside theatre buildings are ‘deeply embedded in theatre as a disciplinary system’ (Lefebvre qtd. in Kershaw 31). By performing in different spaces – that is, in spaces used for the performance of itinérance – Escale literally performs its politics, displaying alternative ways of living and doing performance. To borrow once again from Kershaw, Escale’s performance is radical