The Fourth Wall tells the story of a French woman who promises her dying friend to continue the work he had initiated: to mount Antigone in Beirut (Lebanon) with actors of all faiths, in the midst of a civil war.
The Lebanon war began in the 70s and was linked, on the one hand, to the cohabitation imposed by the France of several communities on the same territory (with the aim of weakening them) and, on the other hand, to the interference of neighboring countries in internal politics. From 1926, the country was divided between Maronites (Christians), Shiites (Muslims), Sunnis (Muslims) and Druze (also Muslims), to which were added the Palestinian refugees (Muslims) who fled their country after the birth of the State of Israel (1948). The corruption of the leaders and the marked communitarianism lead to an increase in inequalities and an increase in unemployment among the Lebanese (10% of the active population in 1970) to the benefit of the Palestinians, who constitute an abundant, cheap and undemanding workforce. In addition, the Palestinian resistance (PLO) – organized from Lebanon with the agreement of the government (Cairo Agreement, 1969) – increased tensions between the Israeli (Jewish, ally of the Maronites) and Lebanese (Sunni, ally of the Palestinians) powers. In 1975, armed conflict broke out and Beirut was split in two by a demarcation line (the Green Line) opposing Christian Falangists to Muslim Palestinians.
The action takes place here in 1982, seven years after the beginning of hostilities and just before Operation Peace in Galilee (invasion of Lebanon by Israel and occupation of Beirut). The director must bring together actors from different political and religious factions to play Jean Anouilh 's play (written under the Occupation): Antigone will be Palestinian and Sunni, Hémon, a Druze from the Shuf, Creon (king of Thebes and father of Hemon), a Maronite from Gemmayze and the rest of the cast will be completed by Shiites. The company has something utopian, even suicidal, and yet terribly exciting.
The text is a novel by Sorj Chalandon, writer, journalist (at Libération for thirty-four years then at Le Canard Enchaîné since 2009), to whom we owe the media coverage of the trial of Klaus Barbie (Nazi war criminal) in 1987. Awarded the Prix Goncourt des lycéens in 2013, The Fourth Wall has already been adapted into a comic book and eight theatre adaptations since 2016. Julien Bouffier, who signs this version, has been managing the company Adesso e sempre since 1991. With about twenty creations to his credit, he intends to "work on societal issues on stage". This is the second time he has evoked the myth of Antigone, after the creation of Andy's Gone in 2016, which dealt with the desire for disobedience of a teenager in the face of the proclamation of the state of emergency.
The setting is simple, composed of a kind of staircase (or walkway) on which most of the action takes place. If music is of paramount importance – it contributes greatly to creating the aesthetic universe of the director – it is the video that really occupies a prominent place in his work. More than a tool, it is a real border between two worlds: between Paris and Beirut, between fiction and reality, between spectators and actors. This screen (this fourth wall) encloses the actresses in the scenic device, transposing them into an intermediate dimension between the stage and the video.
The show likes to play with borders, starting with those of reality, in an aesthetic close to documentary: in 2016, the show team went to Beirut (to meet local actors?) and the actress who plays Yara on stage keeps her name. The location chosen for the performance of Antigone is an old cinema on the demarcation line and the actors seem to confuse their role with real life: they do not agree to play for the act of resistance that it represents but for "the pleasure of sentencing a Palestinian woman to death". In a way, the theater here resumes its cathartic function: they play to purge themselves of their fantasies. But this proximity to reality is also strangely the occasion of a distancing from it. The text is strong, sometimes violent and the worst images are not the ones we see, they are the ones we hear. So, the screen brings us back to our condition as spectators: it is only theater and this theater must encourage us to think.
The underlying question is that of the place of creation, the role of art in the face of atrocities and barbarism. It is also, without doubt, a show about secularism, about living together beyond religious confessions, about the possibility of a common citizenship beyond individualities. Can theatre assume this civic significance? And by what means? To do theatre is to share our personal cultures to make culture together. Fraternization is much more dangerous for governments (responsible for wars) than taking up arms. Fraternization is the beginning of protest, of disobedience, because it is what makes it possible to recognize others as one's equal and thereby annihilate the war propaganda that demonizes the enemy.
Also to be commended is the play of the actors (on stage as in video) who brilliantly serve Sorj Chalandon's text: Yara Bou Nassar, Alex Jacob, Vanessa Liautey, Nina Bouffier, Joyce Abou Jaoude, Diamand Bou Abboud, Mhamad Hjeij, Raymond Hosni, Elie Youssef and Joseph Zeitouny.
The show is to be discovered until May 26, 2018 at the Théâtre Paris-Villette.
