L’homme de Hus

On a faintly lit stage, the silhouette of a figure fumbles noiselessly. The figure attempts to place a table and chair so as to face the audience, but his every gesture falls apart in one small accident after another. Seemingly insignificant mishaps stifle his every attempt to pick anything up or put it down. Little by little, silence is broken. Objects tumble, stick, and squeak. The seemingly simple task implodes on itself, dissociating from its goal, and expanding over time. Meaning and object fall apart, and repeated attempts to set up the damn table accumulate a pile of unmanageable debris that multiplies his obstacles, causing him to give up and lie down. The wood trestles beneath him crack like a stiff back as he unleashes a monumental cry in the dark, words falling form his mouth like stones. A body’s weightlessness meets with illumination and mindless repetitions, but it bounces back, albeit with almost comically grotesque mutations. The body confront a pile of objects, even as they take on monstrous, fairy-tale proportions, ending in a pseudo-mechanical mess. Blackout.