2666

After Les Particules élémentaires, by Michel Houellebecq, Julien Gosselin and his company’s latest undertaking is perhaps even more foolhardy than the previous one. 2666 is an adaptation of the masterpiece by the Chilean writer, Roberto Bolaño, and its breathtaking enquiry into writing and evil. Since its posthumous publication in 2004, 2666 has been heralded by critics world over as one of the major texts of the early 21st century. Bolaño, a writer of poetry up to this point, did not turn his hand to narrative fiction until the mid-1980’s, by which time he was in his forties. His unique tone quickly aroused interest - a combination of his own special brand of irony, melancholic strangeness, formal elegance and predilection for cryptic allusions that frequently lead readers up the garden path. And all this at the service of a sense of the real which seems to marry together, in an organic way, the intricacies of the so-called globalization of the imagination. With its vast size (the French translation is 1353 pages long), status, and content, Bolaño’s final cosmic novel is impossible to sum up. Its five parts can be read separately. They shift between the worlds of the Ancient and the New, spanning the period from the aftermath of the First World War up to the present day. The universe that Bolaño summons up, in contrast to that of Pascal, appears to have a centre that is nowhere to be seen, and its circumference everywhere. Or if it does have a centre, it is one that never ceases to slip through our fingers (in his notes, Bolaño himself speaks of a “secret centre”). The bulk of the characters seem to try to make headway, often unwittingly, towards a magnetic point of fascination where all the different lines of destiny would meet each other, and all questions would be answered - if only this point was reachable.

Though it does at least seem to have a sort of equivalent, with a name which can be found on a map: Santa Teresa, an imaginary town or city inspired by Ciudad Juaréz (whose sad reputation stems from the series of barbaric rapes and murders of hundreds of women since 1993). The five sections of 2666 converge there in an enigmatic way. The book swings into action with “The Part about the Critics”, in which four academics set off on a quest to find Benno von Archimboldi, the German writer that their research focuses on. Their search brings them to Santa Teresa. A multitude of journeys ensues, followed by seemingly unrelated wanderings and digressions of various sorts, but which all lead to Mexican soil. What is the relationship between the horrors of Santa Teresa and those of the Second World War, in which the young Archimboldi, in the guise of his Third Reich uniform, plays a part? Bolaño tells us no more about it than he does about the nature of the relationship which seems to establish itself between writing (critic-based, journalistic or artistic) and evil.

Julien Gosselin knows all too well that the book, just like the real life that it reflects, holds no easy answers for someone trying to find their way through it. He also knows that the stage can match the enormity of a novel, and the world it conjures up. In this his forthcoming new work at the 2016 Festival d’Avignon, his dream is to create a show which is rich and bursting to the seams with energy, and which will be “for the audience what 2666 is for the reader - colossal, unending, joyous, and difficult at times. Onstage there will be between fifteen and twenty actors, doubling up as musicians, performers, narrators and characters. I want to bring together all the necessary elements in this attempt at a sort of total theatre that we are working towards."

Berthier 17e

France

Berthier 17e

10 september – 16 october 2016 / Length about 11 hours (Whole show on Week-end or in two following parts on Wednesday and Thursday)

2666

by Roberto Bolaño

directed by Julien Gosselin

with Rémi Alexandre, Guillaume Bachelé, Adama Diop, Joseph Drouet, Denis Eyriey, Antoine Ferron, Noémie Gantier, Carine Goron, Alexandre Lecroc-Lecerf, Frédéric leidgens, Caroline Mounier, Victoria Quesnel, Tiphaine Raffier

In French

Length about 11 hours (Whole show on Week-end or in two following parts on Wednesday and Thursday)

Votre venue

Berthier 17e
Access

Prices

from 20€ to 54€
More info

Booking online opens June 29th. At the booking office and by telephone from August 31st, 2016

  • 2666 | 2666, photo de répétition © Simon Gosselin
    2666, photo de répétition © Simon Gosselin
  • 2666 | 2666, photo de répétition © Simon Gosselin
    2666, photo de répétition © Simon Gosselin
  • 2666 | 2666, photo de répétition © Simon Gosselin
    2666, photo de répétition © Simon Gosselin
  • 2666 | 2666, photo de répétition © Simon Gosselin
    2666, photo de répétition © Simon Gosselin
  • 2666 | 2666, photo de répétition © Simon Gosselin
    2666, photo de répétition © Simon Gosselin
  • 2666 | 2666, photo de répétition © Simon Gosselin
    2666, photo de répétition © Simon Gosselin
  • 2666 | 2666 © Simon Gosselin
    2666 © Simon Gosselin
  • 2666 | 2666 © Simon Gosselin
    2666 © Simon Gosselin
  • 2666 | 2666 © Simon Gosselin
    2666 © Simon Gosselin
  • 2666 | 2666 © Simon Gosselin
    2666 © Simon Gosselin
  • 2666 | 2666 © Simon Gosselin
    2666 © Simon Gosselin

After Les Particules élémentaires, by Michel Houellebecq, Julien Gosselin and his company’s latest undertaking is perhaps even more foolhardy than the previous one. 2666 is an adaptation of the masterpiece by the Chilean writer, Roberto Bolaño, and its breathtaking enquiry into writing and evil. Since its posthumous publication in 2004, 2666 has been heralded by critics world over as one of the major texts of the early 21st century. Bolaño, a writer of poetry up to this point, did not turn his hand to narrative fiction until the mid-1980’s, by which time he was in his forties. His unique tone quickly aroused interest - a combination of his own special brand of irony, melancholic strangeness, formal elegance and predilection for cryptic allusions that frequently lead readers up the garden path. And all this at the service of a sense of the real which seems to marry together, in an organic way, the intricacies of the so-called globalization of the imagination. With its vast size (the French translation is 1353 pages long), status, and content, Bolaño’s final cosmic novel is impossible to sum up. Its five parts can be read separately. They shift between the worlds of the Ancient and the New, spanning the period from the aftermath of the First World War up to the present day. The universe that Bolaño summons up, in contrast to that of Pascal, appears to have a centre that is nowhere to be seen, and its circumference everywhere. Or if it does have a centre, it is one that never ceases to slip through our fingers (in his notes, Bolaño himself speaks of a “secret centre”). The bulk of the characters seem to try to make headway, often unwittingly, towards a magnetic point of fascination where all the different lines of destiny would meet each other, and all questions would be answered - if only this point was reachable.

Though it does at least seem to have a sort of equivalent, with a name which can be found on a map: Santa Teresa, an imaginary town or city inspired by Ciudad Juaréz (whose sad reputation stems from the series of barbaric rapes and murders of hundreds of women since 1993). The five sections of 2666 converge there in an enigmatic way. The book swings into action with “The Part about the Critics”, in which four academics set off on a quest to find Benno von Archimboldi, the German writer that their research focuses on. Their search brings them to Santa Teresa. A multitude of journeys ensues, followed by seemingly unrelated wanderings and digressions of various sorts, but which all lead to Mexican soil. What is the relationship between the horrors of Santa Teresa and those of the Second World War, in which the young Archimboldi, in the guise of his Third Reich uniform, plays a part? Bolaño tells us no more about it than he does about the nature of the relationship which seems to establish itself between writing (critic-based, journalistic or artistic) and evil.

Julien Gosselin knows all too well that the book, just like the real life that it reflects, holds no easy answers for someone trying to find their way through it. He also knows that the stage can match the enormity of a novel, and the world it conjures up. In this his forthcoming new work at the 2016 Festival d’Avignon, his dream is to create a show which is rich and bursting to the seams with energy, and which will be “for the audience what 2666 is for the reader - colossal, unending, joyous, and difficult at times. Onstage there will be between fifteen and twenty actors, doubling up as musicians, performers, narrators and characters. I want to bring together all the necessary elements in this attempt at a sort of total theatre that we are working towards."

On Video

Autour du spectacle

Credits

French translation Roberto Amutio
adaptation Julien Gosselin
scenography Hubert Colas
music Rémi Alexandre, Guillaume Bachelé
lights Nicolas Joubert
video Jérémie Bernaert, Pierre Martin
sound Julien Feryn
costumes Caroline Tavernier

production Si vous pouviez lécher mon cœur, Le Phénix – Scène Nationale de Valenciennes, Théâtre National de Strasbourg, Odéon-Théâtre de l’Europe, Festival d’Avignon, Théâtre national de Toulouse Midi-Pyrénées, MC2: Grenoble, Stadsschouwburg – Amsterdam, La Filature Scène nationale – Mulhouse, Le Quartz – Scène nationale de Brest
avec l’aide à la production du Dicréam et de la SACD Beaumarchais
avec le soutien exceptionnel du MCC (DGCA)
avec le Festival d’Automne à Paris


2666 © 2004, The Heirs of Roberto Bolaño. Tous droits réservés
 

Director

Julien Gosselin

En mai 2009, à leur sortie de l’École professionnelle supérieure d’art dramatique de Lille (EPSAD), Guillaume Bachelé, Antoine Ferron, Noémie Gantier, Julien Gosselin, Alexandre Lecroc, Victoria Quesnel et Tiphaine Raffier fondent Si vous pouviez lécher mon cœur. Ils baptisent leur collectif d’après une phrase que leur citait souvent Stuart Seide, directeur du Théâtre du Nord : « Si vous pouviez lécher mon cœur, vous mourriez empoisonné. » Emprunté à Shoah, le film de Claude Lanzmann, ce nom de troupe marque aussi pour Gosselin son envie d’un théâtre documentaire, son souci de parler de notre monde en termes non pas métaphoriques mais réels.
Leur premier spectacle, Gênes 01 de Fausto Paravidino, est présenté en 2010. L’équipe crée ensuite Tristesse animal noir d’Anja Hilling au Théâtre de Vanves en 2012.
Julien Gosselin a 26 ans quand Les Particules élémentaires, troisième spectacle de la compagnie, le fait connaître d’un très large public au Festival d’Avignon 2013, puis aux Ateliers Berthier en octobre et novembre 2014.
Suivent des projets plus légers, puis 2666, d’après Roberto Bolaño, présenté en 2016 au Festival d’Avignon et aux Ateliers Berthier.
Julien Gosselin est artiste associé au Phénix de Valenciennes, au TNT de Toulouse et au Théâtre national de Strasbourg, où il crée un spectacle avec les élèves de la promotion 43 : 1993 d’Aurélien Bellanger (présenté en juillet 2017 au Festival de Marseille).

Excerpt

Certaines de ces rues étaient totalement plongées dans l’obscurité, pareilles à des trous noirs,
et les rires qui sortaient d’on ne savait où étaient le seul signe, la seule indication que les habitants
et les étrangers avaient pour ne pas se perdre.

Roberto Bolaño : 2666, éditions Bourgois, 2008, trad. Roberto Amutio