Bête Noire

I had a glorious swim this morning; since the wind dropped and the temperature went up, the water is now a pleasant 27C and there was no-one else there -- I had the whole pool to myself for an hour. Lovely!

In the evening, there was a choice: go to open-air jazz in Ribaute, or to an extra show that had been added to the village programme at short notice. I only found out about it because there was a single poster on the square yesterday. As the official photographer, I do feel obliged to go to everything if I can, so I easily made my choice.

The show started at 9, for some reason, when they normally start at 9:30. When I arrived, a few minutes late, I bumped the audience numbers up to ten. It was a one-man show with a minimal set -- just a few chairs. I did feel bad for actor Jérôme Flauvel, but he boldly introduced himself and went straight into the play.

It was very intense. It was based on a fait divers in a village somewhere in France on the evening of Bastille day, when a man was murdered and buried in a dung heap, his body discovered a week later. Jérôme played all of the parts as villagers spoke about the outcast victim and his murderer, a popular man in the village. He broke the fourth wall, addressing the audience directly and making eye contact. It felt so intimate that I put my camera away immediately; he was only a metre or so away from me and I felt I couldn't intrude. Hence I cheated and used the poster for my blip.

The audience was spellbound as Jérôme laid bare the hatred of someone who was different, a nuisance, exclusion, closing of ranks against the outsider. Playwright Sarah Blamont wrote:

Although this project started with a true crime, it was a starting point for me  to question this process of closing ranks, exclusion, an inward looking community which leads to a fear of the Other so great it leads to hatred. Jésus [the victim, from a family of travellers], the one who is killed for being different, because he is in the way, is killed not just by the person who inflicted the fatal wound, but by all those who expressed the silent wish followed by loud praise.

It was a shame the audience was so scanty. A couple of people arrived 15 minutes late, and halfway through a couple walked in with their son, eight or so, who was watching a film on his phone with the sound on. They sat down directly behind me, apparently unconcerned, and only a death stare from me prompted them to tell their son to stop it. They got a mild telling off from Jérôme at the end.

I'm sure the jazz was more fun, but this was well worth seeing.