Flemish actors can speak. Flemish actors usually don't need microphones to make themselves understood over a storm, or from 100 metres away in the open air. Charlotte Caeckaert is one such actress who can do all that, and such technique is a joy to witness. She also writes lyrics, and this is where things go slightly wrong. Her ambition to express the story of Joan of Arc, the symbol of French independence, also very poetically leads here and there to a somewhat hermetic mash of words, and requires some prior knowledge.
However, that should not dampen the fun and impact. After all, we hear those full sentences about love, independence, dreams, idealism and struggle almost daily these days from Russia, Iraq, the Schilderswijk and America. We get quite poetic so just before we sacrifice ourselves in a pointless struggle.
And so we have to go on horseback. Some 50 beautiful rocking horses, of the type War Horse could learn a thing or two from, stand ready along the quay, and we are whisked off to take our seats. Which we meekly do. There we are. Kind of smiling. Hobbling along. While from the pool centre across the river, a few billiard players stand watching our onrushing force non-comprehensively. Our enemy, cue in hand. Beer in hand.
Rarely felt better how ridiculous war actually is. That's what a location performance can do to you.
By the way, this kind of performance was once invented by the Parade specialists of 'The Styles, Because...', who could turn audiences into galley slaves, cows in a cattle market or a stoning mob in ultra-short experiential performances. Fun, but also confrontational: what we don't all do when we don't want to say 'no', when we don't want to break up the group. Wars have been started over less.
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