Program

60. dubrovačke ljetne igre
60th Dubrovnik Summer Festival
2009
Hrvatska Croatia
Troubleyn/Jan Fabre (Antwerpen / Antwerp)
u suradnji s / in co-production with
Festival Internacional de Teatro ‘Santiago a Mil’ (Santiago de Chile, CL)
Peak Performances @ Montclair State University (US)
Tanzhaus NRW (Düsseldorf, DE)
deSingel (Antwerpen, BE)
Théâtre de la Ville (Paris, FR)
Dubrovačke ljetne igre / Dubrovnik Summer Festival (HR)
ORGIJA TOLERANCIJE
ORGY OF TOLERANCE
Jan Fabre
koncept, režija, koreografija, scenografija
concept, direction, choreography, set design
Taraca tvrđave Revelin
Revelin Fort Terrace
24., 25. srpnja 24, 25 July
21.30 09:30 pm
ORGIJA TOLERANCIJE
ORGY OF TOLERANCE
Koncept, režija, koreografija, scenografija:
Concept, direction, choreography, set design: Jan Fabre
Tekstovi napisani u suradnji s izvođačima
The texts created together with the performers
Dramaturgija / Dramaturgy: Miet Martens
Izvođači / Performers: Linda Adami, Christian Bakalov, Katarina Bistrovic-Darvas,
Annabelle Chambon, Cédric Charron, Ivana Jozic, Goran Navojec, Tony Rizzi, Kasper
Vandenberghe
Glazba, stihovi / Music, lyrics: Dag Taeldeman
Svjetlo / Lights: Jan Dekeyser, Jan Fabre
Kostimi / Costumes: Andrea Kränzlin, Jan Fabre
Izrada trbuha / Prosthesis / protèses: Denise Castermans
Tehnička koordinacija / Technical co-ordination: Harry Cole
Tonski tehničar / Sound Technician: Tom Buys
Direktor produkcije / Production manager / Chargée de production: Sophie Vanden
Broeck
Jezični savjetnik / Language Coach: Tom Hannes
Produkcija / Production: Troubleyn/Jan Fabre (Antwerpen / Antwerp, BE)
Koprodukcija s / Co-production with:
Festival Internacional de Teatro ‘Santiago a Mil’ (Santiago de Chile, CL)
Peak Performances @ Montclair State University (US)
Tanzhaus NRW (Düsseldorf, DE)
deSingel (Antwerpen, BE)
Théâtre de la Ville (Paris, FR)
Dubrovačke ljetne igre / Dubrovnik Summer Festival (HR)
Fotografije / Photos: Troubleyn i / and Damil Kalogjera
Jan Fabre rođen je u Antwerpenu,
Belgija, 1958. Studirao je na Institutu za
dekorativnu umjetnost i Kraljevskoj
likovnoj akademiji u Antwerpenu.
Najznačajniji je belgijski suvremeni
umjetnik i jedan od najvažnijih umjetnika
današnjice. Fabre je istovremeno crtač,
kipar, dramski pisac, koreograf, scenograf
i režiser (drama, opera, balet, film). Od
1976-81 aktivno se bavi umjetnošću
performansa, što se odražava u
kazališnom radu u kojem stavlja naglasak
na tjelesnu ekspresiju. Od 1980 do danas
Jan Fabre radi operne, kazališne i plesne
predstave. Sudjeluje na najprestižnijim
svjetskim izložbama. Godine 1984
predstavom „Moć teatarske ludosti“ otvara
Venecijanski bijenale, a 1987 sudjeluje na
Documenti 8 u Kasselu predstavom
„Plesni komadi“ (inicijalna studija za
Fabreovu prvu operu koja se izvodi 1990
u Flamanskoj operi u Antwerpenu). Jan
Fabre bio je glavni kreator programa
Avinjoskog festivala 2005. Fabreove
predstave izvodile su se u europskim
zemljama, Americi, Japanu i Australiji, a
njegova djela su dio kolekcija uvaženih
svjetskih muzeja i galerija.
Jan Fabre je „rezidentni umjetnik“ u
deSingelu (Antwerpen - Belgija) i kulturni
veleposlanik Unescoa pri IHEu (Institutu
hidro naobrazbe). Njegova kazališna
kompanija Troubleyn jedna je od
najznačajnijih avangardnih scenskih trupa.
Osmišljena je kao nezavisni istraživački
laboratorij, gdje se mogu proizvoditi
eksperimenti bez potrebe za produkcijom.
Troubleyn/Jan Fabre je kazalište sa
sjedištem u Antwerpenu, koje često
nastupa na turnejama u inozemstvu.
Utemeljeno je 1986. godine, od kada
djeluje pod umjetničkim vodstvom Jana
Fabrea. Troubleyn/Jan Fabre je neprofitna
organizacija koja trenutno ima 10 osoba u
punom radnom odnosu, od kojih su
četvero umjetnici.
Ime Troubleyn znači “ostati vjeran”,
simbolizirajući želju za suradnjom s
istomišljenicima, ljudima od povjerenja, i
na duže vrijeme.
Njihove aktivnosti obuhvaćaju:
1. osmišljavanje i prezentiranje scenskih
djela umjetnika Jana Fabrea (kazališni,
plesni, operni, filmski i drugi projekti),
koordiniranje vezano uz razne publikacije,
debate, itd., te
2. Aktivnosti kazališta Troubleyn, koje
djeluje ne samo kao mjesto za scenske
aktivnosti, pokuse itd., već i kao laboratorij
za neovisna istraživanja i naobrazbu.
Svake godine kazalište angažira jednog
mladog redatelja/koreografa koji na scenu
postavlja vlastito djelo.
Orgija tolerancije
Siječanj 2009.
U predstavi Orgija tolerancije Jan Fabre
ponire u samu jamu svijeta, spuštajući se
poput speleologa sve dublje u trbuh
postojanja, kako bi otkrio što to sve kruli i
fermentira u njegovim dubinama. S
usnama na pupku, u očekivanju odjeka, on
pokušava procijeniti dubinu ove jame.
Pokazalo se da jama svijeta nema dna, da
je dubina beskonačna ništica, nemjerljiva
čak ni s pomoću svih naših gigabajta.
Svojim povezivanjem ništica sadašnje
doba kasnoga kapitalizma tvori epicentar
te prazne posude. Tijelo svijeta je bolesno,
smrtno bolesno. Iz njega curi gnoj, crijeva
mu se suše od akutne dijareje, a koža mu
je poput krajolika punog čireva i plikova.
Prikopčano je na aparat za umjetno
disanje, no ipak nastavlja sa svakim
zalogajem unositi u sebe novu bakterijsku
infekciju, sa svakim gutljajem neki drugi
virus. Kasni kapitalizam pati od
izgladnjenja. Nalazi se u trajnom stanju
bulimične, anoreksične ekstaze, plutajući
na prekomjernosti i oskudici, istodobno
napuhan i zgrčen. Zapleten je u paradoks
trajnog širenja i skupljanja, mišići mu slabe,
a trbušna šupljina postaje sve većom.
Hrana je kasnoga kapitalizma, kako nas je
aktualna kriza naučila, kredit. Posuđeni
novac pun je ništica. Beskonačne brojke,
koje se pomiču amo-tamo, zapravo su bez
oblika, težine i mirisa. Njihovo je postojanje
sasvim virtualno. Tek gesta vjere i
povjerenja jedne banke prema drugoj,
jedne osiguravajuće kompanije prema
drugoj, beskonačna mreža koja pokriva
zemaljsku kuglu. Dugo smo mislili da
osnivanje jedne banke znači njezin sef pun
dragocjenih metala. Danas pak znamo da
je taj isti sef ispunjen zajmovima,
transakcijama na papiru s bezvrijednim
garancijama, jer počivaju na nekim drugim
zajmovima i policama osiguranja s
beskrajnim nizom ništica. Usta banke su
kredit. Jama banke je ta praznina. Između
ustiju i jame nalazi se potrošač koji je
prisiljen potrošiti što je moguće više, nešto
s najvećim mogućim brojem ništica.
Riječ orgija u naslovu predstave odnosi se
na potrošačku ekstazu. Status ljudskoga
bića u našem liberalnom dobu kasnoga
kapitalizma u prvom je redu status
potrošača. Onoga koji – naoružan
bankovnim kreditnim karticama – troši.
Potrošač mora održavati jamu ekonomije
punom do vrha, igrajući svoju ulogu
potrošača na najuvjerljiviji mogući način.
Naš ekonomski otisak održava ovaj sustav
na životu. Što više trošimo, otisak je veći, a
sustav čvršći. Naša je navika kupovanja,
kako to Fabre pokazuje u ovoj predstavi,
nešto nalik prirodnoj sili.
Mi zapravo i ne kupujemo proizvode, već
ih prije svega konzumiramo, poput
probavnog mehanizma koji nas drži u
svojim šapama. Ovdje su roba i
konzumiranje crijeva pijanke koja nikad ne
prestaje. Mi robu jedemo, robu praznimo
kroz crijeva, robu rađamo. Oni koji
posustanu u ovoj ekonomskoj trci štakora
izopćeni su, marginalizirani, izbljuvani.
Ljudi s minimalnom kreditnom
sposobnošću tek trebaju dokazati svoju
vrijednost, investirajući u sve noviju i
noviju robu. Ljudski su naraštaji proizvodi
koji slijede jedni druge, a stvoreni su da se
nastavljaju na kušnje svojih prethodnika.
Njihov osmijeh, nalik razmaku između
ženskih grudi, trebao bi nas natjerati na to
da zaboravimo kako oni nose maskirne
kape i da zapravo predstavljaju najveću
svjetsku terorističku organizaciju.
U predstavi Orgija tolerancije ljudsko je
biće odgajano kao životinja koja kupuje.
Njezinim instinktom za preživljavanje
upravlja kupovno ponašanje. Predstava
nam daje sliku onoga na što je Herbert
Marcuse, u svojoj raščlambi kapitalizma,
već ukazao šezdesetih godina prošloga
stoljeća: kapitalizam je postao
mehanizmom želje koja se ukorijenila u
našim genima. Potencijalna anarhija naših
duboko usađenih poriva kanalizira se u
potrošnju robe. Naše načelo želje posve
je zaokupljeno potrošnjom svih vrsta
proizvoda. Ekonomija nas održava
vlažnima i tvrdima, dok čeznemo za
željom koju je moguće kupiti, a koja nas
dovodi do radosnog vrhunca (u tekstu se,
kao i u predstavi, ciljano upotrebljava
glagol to come, što znači doći, ali i svršiti).
Da, mi svršavamo! Postali smo
deformirani uslijed paketa koji toliko
obećavaju, a u kojima kupljenu robu
nosimo kući, svih tih vrećica sa
zavodljivim nazivima kao što su Vuitton,
Yamamoto, Versace. Da, mi svršavamo!
Postali smo deformirani uslijed košarica
na kotačima u koje stavljamo kupljenu
robu, vješto se krećući prolazima od
Ivana Jozić, Goran Navojec, Katarina Bistrovic Darvas
police do police, sve do zadnjega prolaza.
Da, mi svršavamo! Postali smo
deformirani uslijed sve te robe koju smo
kupili, ostvarujući naše sne o kućnom
kinu. Da, mi svršavamo!
Kućni kino
Želimo uživati u kućnom kinu ležeći na
kauču. Sam po sebi kauč je posebno
mjesto. Kod kuće se na njemu volimo
relaksirati, protezati i raskomotiti u
očekivanju trenutka intimnog zadovoljstva.
U isto vrijeme kauč je mjesto s kojega
gledamo svijet putem televizije ili drugih
medija, odakle s pomoću daljinskog
upravljača prebacujemo taj isti svijet u
postojanje. Drugim riječima, naše
najmirnije i najintimnije gnijezdo istodobno
je mjesto kamo ulaze divljaštvo i nasilje. U
novoj je Fabreovoj predstavi ta
jukstapozicija kauča ogoljena do kraja. Na
njegovu kauču ljudi s oduševljenjem
uzajamno masturbiraju, a kauč postaje
neka vrsta ekstenzije libida. Možete jahati
na njemu, trljati se o njega, svršiti na
njemu ili ispod njega. Kauč postaje vaš
intimni čuvar tajni. On upija sve vaše snove
i najperfidnija maštanja. On je sredstvo za
sva vaša rasterećenja, naravno doživljena
samo virtualno, u najtamnijem kutku
vašega kućnog kina. To je zato jer ste na
kauču sigurni. Sami i stoga sigurni. Tek
kad nestane svaki sram, možemo biti
posve i nedvosmisleno ksenofobični na
kauču. Jer, doista, svijet koji ulazi stran je i
prijeteći, a svaka buntovnost potencijalni
napad na naš dragocjeni osjećaj sigurnosti
i naš aklimatizirani narcizam. Mi volimo
naš kauč, a ostatak svijeta se može j...ti!
Arapi, Židovi, Srbi, biseksualci, katolički
svećenici, osobe sklone samoubojstvu,
moderni umjetnici, modni kreatori, plesači i
izvođači, a s njima i sam Jan Fabre, j...te
se svi!
Orgija tolerancije razbija iluziju ove sreće
na kauču. Kauč je poput sefa u banci:
prazan. Ili kao križ u crkvi: prazan. Ili kao
nebo: prazno. Likovi u ovoj predstavi u
svojoj su suštini usamljeni. Izručeni su
sebi samima, puni sebe, njihovo je vidno
polje suženo isključivo na otvor, rupu ili
umjetni penis koji možemo sisati ili
zadržati nakon trenutka orgazma. Njihova
se dobrobit procjenjuje na temelju
uspješnosti njihove performance. Tijela im
se tresu, dršću, ljuljaju: masturbiranje je
uzdignuto na razinu olimpijske discipline.
Oni će svršiti, moraju svršiti. Kada iz
zvučnika zatrešti pjesma Beatlesa iz 1969.
godine Come Together, razotkrivena je još
jedna iluzija o njezinu značenju. Orgijaši
tolerancije zapravo su tek bolno usamljeni
masturbatori zaključani u vlastitom
sićušnom svijetu kazališta.
Orgija tolerancije prikazuje nam
propadanje ljudske rase, moje i vaše.
Priče o svakodnevnoj potrošnji često su
prikazane na groteskni način: rat i teror
ceha potrošača. Fabre oslikava portret
potrošačkoga ljudskog bića s često
nadrealističkom vještinom. Međutim, ispod
ove značajne burleske skrivena je trajna
prijetnja, osjećaj nemira i opasnosti koji je
tako savršeno izražen u partituri Daga
Taeldemana. On se odnosi na sklad
pobune i halucinacije, na stanje
razdiranosti između nečega što je
istodobno odvratno i uzbudljivo. I upravo
je to suština perverzije, centar jame
svijeta. Ova predstava lansira publiku u
stalnu orbitu oko te središnje točke. Ona
zarobljava vas i vaše moralne prosudbe,
zarobljava vas zajedno s vašim vlastitim
perverzijama. Nitko ne može pobjeći.
Nitko nije čist. Na kauču smo žrtve naše
vlastite orgije tolerancije.
Jan Fabre prikazuje vlastito pomanjkanje
razumijevanja na sebi svojstven način.
Zajedno s glazbenicima, plesačima i
glumcima, on nam dočarava panoramu
tolerancije u vidu podrugljive karikature i
satiričkog prikaza početka našega, 21.
stoljeća. Nož kojim rezbari orgiju
tolerancije mora istodobno zadavati bol,
ali i škakljati. Njegov je najslavniji
prethodnik u ovom obliku bolne komedije
Monty Python. Njihovi urnebesno
apsurdni skečevi stavljaju sol na naše
rane. Oni razotkrivaju mehanizme naše
kolektivne iluzije koju s nedostižnim
komičarskim umijećem miniraju.
Orgija tolerancije postaje crtežem koji je u
slojevima nanesen preko našega
višeslojnog društva. Apsurdni mig prema
svijetu ekscesa. Ubod iglice u svemogući
balon normalnosti. Nadrealistična urota
protiv besramnoga svijeta koji postaje
orgijom koju si svi mogu priuštiti. Ili, kako
bi to rekao Brecht: Erst das ficken dann
die Moral. (Najprije ševa, a onda moral.)
Da, mi svršavamo!
Luk Van den Dries
Jan Fabre (born in Antwerp, 1958) is well
known both at home and abroad as one
of the most innovative and versatile
artists of his day. Over the last 25 years
he has produced work as a performance
artist, theatre-maker, choreographer,
opera-maker, author and artist. He
expands the horizons of every genre he
engages in. His artistic course has always
been controversial.
In the late 1970s, while still very young,
Jan Fabre caused a furore as a
performance artist; in his ‘money
performances’ he set light to bundles of
money the audience had given him and
did drawings with the ashes. In 1982, with
Het is theater zoals te verwachten en te
voorzien was he placed a bomb under the
theatre establishment of the day. This
was confirmed two years later by De
macht der theaterlijke dwaasheden which
he created at the invitation of the Venice
Biennial. These two pieces are mentioned
in all the literature on contemporary
theatre and have toured the world. In the
meantime Jan Fabre has grown into one
of the most versatile artists on the
international scene. He breaks away from
the codes of the existing theatre by
introducing ‘real time performance’ --
sometimes called ‘living installations’
- and explores radical choreographic
possibilities in order to bring renewal to
classical dance. The body in all its forms
has been the subject of his investigations
from the early Eighties to the present day.
His plays form an exceptional collection
of miniatures with an open style. His
recent productions Je suis sang at the
Cour d’Honneur in Avignon and
Tannhäuser at De Munt/La Monnaie
opera house have been well received
internationally. The invitation to help give
artistic shape to the Avignon Festival in
2005 can undoubtedly be seen as the
pinnacle of his performing arts work to
date.
Jan Fabre’s plays are published by the
leading theatrical publishers in several
European countries - L’Arche (France),
Fischer Verlag (Germany), De Bezige Bij
(Netherlands), Costa & Nolan (Italy) and
Meulenhoff/Manteau (Belgium). The plays
that have been published were as a rule
written with the aim of producing them on
stage. In the early 1970s, Jan Fabre wrote
to give shape to his at the time already
intense imaginative world. These are
plays that only came into the public
domain many years later, when the author
himself staged them. Other plays were
created in the course of rehearsals on the
basis of improvisation with the actors. In
some cases they are a combination of the
author writings and improvised scripts.
Several of these plays are monologues,
often written for Fabre’s favourite actress
Els Deceukelier. Yet the plays with several
characters are striking for being like
monologues too. One hardly ever finds
realistic dialogues or anecdotes taken
from life in Fabre’s theatre work. The
plays are more conceptual in nature, are
poetic, and materialise ancient rituals and
themes that fascinate the author, as well
as philosophical questions that obsess
him. But we are just as likely to find the
violence and pleasure of a life fully lived,
the exuberant and sometimes dark
experience of beauty, eroticism and
festivity - elements in which Fabre may
on one occasion be absorbed only to
withdraw from it again on another.
Jan Fabre’s literary work at the same time
illustrates his thinking of theatre: theatre
as an all embracing work of art in which
the word is given a well-considered
functional place next to such parameters
as dance, music, opera, performance
elements and improvisation. The austerity
with which Fabre uses the medium of the
word forces him to make theatre in an
innovative way. When other directors
work on these plays, they too are unable
to distil any kind of conventional theatre
out of them. And in recent years Jan
Fabre’s plays have indeed been regularly
performed by other companies.
The Troubleyn/Jan Fabre is a theatre
company with extensive international
operations. Its home base is Antwerp.
The artist Jan Fabre has been its artistic
director since it was established in 1986.
The Troubleyn/Jan Fabre is a non-profit
organisation and currently has 10 full-time
staff, 4 of them artistic.
The name Troubleyn means ‘remaining
faithful’ and expresses the wish to work
with like-minded people in confidence
and in the long term.
The Troubleyn/Jan Fabre is responsible
for:
1. the creation and presentation of stage
pieces by the artist Jan Fabre (theatre,
dance, opera, film projects, etc.) and by
extension the coordination of
publications, talks, etc.
2. the work of the Troubleyn Theatre. This
theatre functions not only as a workplace
and rehearsal space, but also as a
laboratory for independent research and
training. Every year a young theatremaker/choreographer is commissioned to
create a work.
Orgy of Tolerance
January 2009
In Orgy of Tolerance, Jan Fabre delves
into the very hole of the world, sinking,
like a speleologist, ever deeper into the
belly of existence, to examine all that
rumbles and ferments in its depths. With
his lips on the navel, awaiting an echo, his
is an attempt to gauge the depth of that
hole. As it turns out, the hole of the world
is bottomless. A depth of infinite zeros,
immeasurable even with all our gigabytes.
The current era of late capitalism with its
concatenations of zeros forms the
epicentre of this empty vessel. The body
of the world is ill, terminally ill. It oozes
pus, its gut runs dry from acute
diarrhoea, its skin is a landscape of boils
and blisters. It is hooked up to an IV, an
artificial breathing apparatus, but
nonetheless continues to consume, with
every bite a new bacterial infection, with
every sip another virus. Late capitalism is
suffering from starvation. It drifts in a
permanent state of bulimic, anorexic
ecstasy, floating on an excess and a lack,
simultaneously bloated and shrivelled.
Caught up in the paradox of continuous
expansion and shrinkage, the muscles
grow weaker and the hole of the stomach
ever greater.
The food of late capitalism, as the current
crisis has taught us, is credit. Money on
loan is full of zeros. The endless numerals
thereby moved hither thither are in fact
formless, weightless, odourless. Theirs is
a purely virtual existence. A mere act of
faith and trust, from one bank to another,
from one insurance company to another.
An endless network that spans the globe.
We have long thought that the foundation
of a bank was its safe, full of precious
metals. Today, we know that that very
same safe is filled with loans,
transactions on paper with worthless
guarantees because they are based on
yet other loans and debt insurance
policies in an endless sum of zeros. The
bank’s mouth is credit. The hole of the
bank is this emptiness. Between mouth
and hole, lies the consumer who is
compelled to spend as much as possible,
with as many simultaneous zeros as
possible.
The orgy in the title refers to the ecstasy
of consumption. The status of the human
being in our liberal late capitalist society
is first and foremost that of consumer. He
who, armed with a bank-endorsed credit
card, consumes. The consumer must
keep the hole of the economy filled to the
brim by playing his role of consumer as
convincingly as possible. Our economic
footprint keeps the system upright. The
more we consume, the greater that
footprint, the more upright the system.
Our buying behaviour, as Fabre shows in
this production, is almost like a force of
nature.
We do not actually buy products. We
primarily consume them, like a digestive
mechanism that holds us in its clutches.
In which production, merchandise and
consumption are the bowels of a neverending binge session. We eat
merchandise, we shit merchandise, we
give birth to merchandise. Those who
can’t keep up with the economic rat race
are excluded, marginalized, spewed out.
Those still with a minimal credit rating
have to prove their worthiness by
investing in ever newer merchandise.
Generations are products which succeed
one another. They are born to tempt us.
Their cleavage-like smile is supposed to
make us forget they are wearing
balaclavas. In actual fact, they represent
the world’s largest terrorist organization.
In Orgy of Tolerance, the human being is
raised like a buying animal. Its survival
instinct is governed by its buying
behaviour. This production paints a
picture of what Herbert Marcuse already
demonstrated in the 1960s in his analysis
Home Cinema
of capitalism, namely that it has become
a mechanism of desire that has taken
root in our very genes. The potential
anarchy of our deep-seated drives is
channelled into the consumption of
goods. Our principle of desire is entirely
occupied by the consumption of all sorts
of products. The economy keeps us
moist and hard, hankering for a buyable
desire, by which we come with glee. Yes,
we come! We have become deformed by
all-promising packaging in which we
carry our merchandise homeward, bags
with delectable headings such as Vuitton,
Yamamoto, Versace. Yes we come! We
have become deformed by the shopping
trolleys in which we cast our
merchandise, skilfully skipping from aisle
to aisle, to the last aisle. Yes, we come!
We have become deformed by our own
merchandise, making our dreams of a
home cinema come true. Yes, we come!
We like to experience our home cinema
from the couch. The couch is an
extraordinary place in itself. We love to
relax in it when at home, spread
ourselves out in it and make ourselves
comfortable in anticipation of a moment
of intimate pleasure. At the same time, it
is the place from which we observe the
world through television and other media,
from which we zap the world into
existence. In other words, the quietest,
most private cocoon is at the same time
the place where barbarism and violence
enter. This juxtaposition of the couch is
played out to the full in this new
production. In Fabre’s couch, people
finger and jerk each other off with
enthusiasm. The couch becomes a kind
of extension of the libido. You can ride it,
rub yourself against it, come on it or
under it. The couch becomes your
intimate bearer of secrets. It soaks up all
your dreams and most perfidious
fantasies. It is the vessel for all your
discharges, naturally only virtually
experienced in the darkest reaches of
your home cinema. Because on the
couch, you are safe. Alone and therefore
safe. Only when all shame has receded,
can we be entirely and unequivocally
xenophobic on the couch. The world that
enters is, after all, foreign and
threatening, every insurgence a potential
attack on our cherished feeling of safety
and our acclimatized narcissism. We love
our couch and the rest of the world can
go fuck itself! Arabs, Jews, Serbs,
bisexuals, Catholic priests, suicidals,
contemporary artists, fashion designers,
dancers and performers and in the same
breath Jan Fabre, too: fuck you all!
Orgy of Tolerance exposes the illusion of
this couch happiness. The couch is just
like the safe in the bank: empty. Or like
the cross in the church: empty. Or like
Ivana Jozić, Goran Navojec, Katarina Bistrovic Darvas
heaven: empty. The characters in charge
here are fundamentally lonely. They have
been turned over to themselves, are full
of themselves, their field of vision
narrowed to but a slit, a hole or a dildo
which they suck and hold on to, following
the momentum of an orgasm. Their
wellbeing is weighed against their
performance. Their bodies shake,
tremble, rock: fingering and jerking off
raised to the level of an Olympic
discipline. They will come, they have to
come. When the Beatles song Come
together from 1969 comes blaring out of
the speakers, yet another illusion is
unveiled for what it is. The orgiasts of
tolerance are nothing but painfully lonely
masturbators locked inside their own tiny
world theatre.
Orgy of Tolerance reveals the decay of
the human race, including that of me and
you. Tales from the daily consumption
trail are depicted, often in grotesque
fashion: the war and the terror of the guild
of consumers. Fabre paints a portrait of
the consuming human being with oft
surrealistic deft. However, beneath that
weighty burlesque a constant threat lies
hidden, a sense of disquietude and
danger which is also perfectly expressed
in the musical score by Dag Taeldeman. It
relates to the coherence of upheaval and
hallucination, of being dragged along by
that which is simultaneously disgusting
and tantalizing. That is precisely the core
of perversion, the eye of the hole of the
world. The production casts the audience
into a fixed orbit around that central
point. It catches you and your own moral
judgement and catches you with your
own perversions. Nobody can escape.
Nobody is clean. On the couch, we are
victims of our own orgy of tolerance.
Jan Fabre suggests his lack of
understanding in a way of his own. With
musicians, dancers and actors, he paints
a panorama of tolerance as a deriding
caricature and satirical caption of our
young 21st century. The knife with which
he crafts the orgy of tolerance needs to
hurt and tickle at the same time. The most
famous predecessor in that form of painful
comedy is Monty Python. Their hilariously
absurd sketches rub salt into our wounds.
They expose the mechanisms of our
collective illusion and undermine it with
unparalleled comedic skill.
Orgy of Tolerance becomes a sketch
spread in layers over our levelled out
society. An absurd wink at the world of
excess. A pin prick in the almighty
balloon of normality. A surrealistic
conspiracy against a shameless world
that becomes a universally affordable
orgy. Or with a bow to Brecht: Erst das
ficken dann die Moral.
Yes we come!
Luk Van den Dries