Insideout: Sublime

Autoportrait: Sheila, Tom and Michael waiting for our tickets at the kiosk Châteaublanc.


This performance was part of the official festival of Avignon aka IN.
Directed/choreographed by Sasha Waltz and Guests...

Today, Tesa gave her review of this play. She had planned to talk about something else, but after seeing Insideout, there was nothing she could do. She had to urge us to go. The problem was, the tickets are all sold out for this theatrical presentation.
But there was a waiting list. She assured us we could go... she and her husband went with their daughters (6 and 2), and they had been able to get in. Tesa was adamant. There were only two days left, we had to go see it.

Tom, Michael and I took up the gauntlet and met to catch the bus just within the ramparts in front of the Avignon Post Office.
The performance was at 19h00, so we caught the bus at 17h50.

Upon arrival, Tom swiftly got off the bus and put our names on the waiting list. His was the 3rd name on a list that was quickly filled, and most people were getting two or more tickets.

At 16h40, they called Tom's name. False start. There was someone before him on the list, and she had been paying attention.
We took lots of deep breaths. We trusted we'd get in because we naively waited for the tickets from the kiosk even as people were selling their extra tickets next to us.

16h45, they called Tom's name again. This time he got 1 ticket. He and Michael agreed that I would get it. "What? I'm not going in without you guys..." --Okay, that was a lie. I would have sadly gone in without them. I just remember taking deep breaths and staring at the two men and the lady in the ticket booth. They were exhibitng a quality I have come to love in the French people I've met. They are absolutely stoic--I simply mean they don't smile. When they are in a service position, they tend not to look at you until they are good and ready. You can stare at them until you turn purple, they won't try to be your friend, they'll talk to each other, slowly calmly. There may be a little drama with someone asking something impossible of them on the phone, while you wait patiently. This attitude is best portrayed by the desk clerk at the George V hotel in Nora Ephron's "French Kiss". Oh, they are going to give you what you want eventually--well, maybe, but it's like a test of patience. My reaction to this is laughter. No, not nervous laughter. I think the test of wills is hilarious. It is an absolute power struggle, and guess what? They've got the power because they have what you want. Now, in America, that's ridiculous! In America, the consumer has the power of course. Not in France. The more I learn about French history in the 20th Century...the more I get it. Gosh, I appreciate the honesty of this practice. Here, I'm not misled. However, American business practices are slowly seeping in. I've been to shops where people are nice and smiling, and help you get what you need. There could be a compromise in business practices. Sincerely helpful?


(Ummm...does he look like...NAW...Man in ticket kiosk holding our fate in his hand.)

16h55 Tom's name is called again! Yes! We're in. Off we go.

First, try to imagine the theater-- a large warehouse that looks like a circus Big Top.


We walk into a large darkened space. There's so much to see and do!
My favorite items were the swings.
I caught up with Michael. I pushed him first, and then it was my turn. I almost knocked another spectator down. We laughed hysterically! WE WERE PART OF THE SHOW!

Imagine a museum like approach to a theatrical performance.
Cubes, rectangles, squares, spheres...
These were performance spaces. Upon entering, we knew we would split up, and made plans to rendez-vous at the end in the lobby area.

Sasha Waltz is a dancer and choreographer by training. This performance, this creation, developped from her interviews with her dancers. She asked them questions: Where do you come from? How do you see yourself? What kind of human are you?
Each person answered the question in the presence of the other dancers. Some answered verbally, others spoke and moved, and still others simply danced. Family stories emerged, and pieces of the stories were used to develop new stories. They played with movement, voice, storytelling, costumes...some very outlandish costumes and masks...one of them pretty scary. There were even cardboard cut-outs of actors from a scene that had been previously played.

There were dancers, actors, musicians (strings, brass, percussion all well represented). We could watch what was happening in one area on a video screen projected on the wall of another staging area.

A buffet of theatrical experiences as we could move in any way we wanted within the space. Insideout...everything was theatrical--voyeuristic...we could watch as the actors changed from scene to scene...there was no backstage. Everything was visible...like looking inside the human body...This could appeal to any learning style, if you were comfortable selecting what you would look at based on your style, or perhaps you could decide to strengthen another learning style?

We could play with so many ideas...wombs, coffins, boxes, a t.v. as box, a radio as box...performances, performances every where. Spectators--actors, unclear where the boundaries were. Life is theater! From the concrete to the abstract--from performance, to rite, to catharsis...

Telescopes with balloons tied to them, beckoning you to pick them up and look through them. Twice I couldn't figure out how to make mine work. I wondered if they worked at all. I stepped away to watch other people as they worked. I talked to strangers...they must have thought I was crazy, some responded, some looked frightened. I couldn't get the telescope to work.


I was giddy, have I mentioned that yet? Two hours in, I was tired of circulating...there was so much to see, and I didn't know what to see. So, I picked a spot and stayed there until the end. But I could see a screen that showed a lot of the performances, including Tom's cameo. I was a bit dehydrated.

Tom, Michael and I definitely had unique experiences, each differing from the other. Of course, we took what we wanted. We became what we wanted. I was a child again, trying to choose from a wide selection of choices...and I grew up, still smiling...
The end was simple, everything was symbolically destroyed by flames which grew larger and louder--then all went black...the end of a memory...death, sleep...wakefulness?

When I think about being here during the Festival and all the work we have done thus far, I believe that Insideout was soul defining--it had that soul lifting, mind twisting effect that I love about theater here. We got home, stopped for a glass of white wine in Rue des Teinturiers, a street which I had never visited. It was absolutely beautiful! It reminded me of a scene from Franco Zeferreli's "Brother Sun and Sister Moon".



Back at the house, I had a case of the munchies and ate lettuce wrapped up in ham. It was sooooo good!