The central character in theatre-maker Marijn Graven's Lo Lie Taa was there early. At least, so he tells the mirrored floor and the audience in his monologue Lo Lie Taa. As a nine-year-old, he was already madly in love with his mother and not long after, his life was defined by the pursuit of as many splashes of his own male lust as possible. Pretty daring, such a piece of reversal of Nabokov's literary masterpiece Lolita, where not only the perspective is shifted to the lustful child, but also the elaboration is a bit more carnal than in the original. And that in the main hall of the Josephkwartier in Den Bosch, which during Theatre Festival Boulevard also serves as ball pit 2.0 for the festival's youngest visitors.
The Joseph Quarter, that's Boulevard's secret spot. Throughout the year office for festivals like Cement and Boulevard and home of Theatre Artemis, and for 11 days in August the place where adults can chill out at a talk show (this year led by a rather chatty Nazmiye Oral), listen to a text reading or watch a preliminary study of a larger play, while the kids tinker and build. Pretty heavenly, even with moderate weather.
Styx
So then it can also happen that you end up at an afternoon atelier, a preliminary study of a play that will not go on tour until next year: Blackbird-Rebirth by Hendrik Aerts. The maker was close friends with actress and teacher Linda Olthof, who was killed in a shower of bullets in New York last year by a twisted jealous ex, along with her infant son. An incomprehensible hell for the bereaved. Hendrik Aerts handles that in a thrilling text that is about farewell and reunion on the banks of the Styx, overlooking Paradise. Music is by Jonathan Bonny, and next year there will also be dance. Already a worthy requiem for a good man, it promises to be even more so.
So good that Boulevard has that Joseph Quarter, because it also allows you to find out more about how all that festival art comes about. And that it is not always a laughing matter. This is also proven by Alessandro Sciarroni, who with his performance Augusto shows where the limits of laughter lie. As in all his work, the Italian Golden Lion winner always starts from a single thing. That then becomes a performance. Like, in this case, laughter.
Catchy
Let's take that literally, too. The nine actors/dancers start by walking around a bare room and then burst into laughter. They keep this up for an hour. This teaches you a lot about laughter, though of course most of it was familiar. So laughter is infectious, because as soon as nine people on stage laugh, the corners of your own mouth randomly curl upwards. Or not, and then you have to deal with the other side of laughter, and that is that of exclusion. Laughter then becomes an almost lethal weapon, especially in the weak variety.
So there you are in the stands, searching for why you are having a laugh, and sensing why the surly lady next to you stubbornly refuses to even flinch a muscle. Which in itself can be laughable.
So Sciarroni knows how to make you laugh in an interesting way. He makes a laugh come out of nothing, no joke was told, no silly act was done, no one was put to shame. There was nothing that connected us to each other, and so that leaves you with a very empty feeling after the end, with which it is actually not pleasant to go home.
Unsatisfied
No, then the heavenly smile of Gian van Grunsven, the journalist who has been researching the female orgasm for a while now. That smile comes at the end of her twenty-five-minute talk in a tent, when she tells us that she was not disappointed by the visit to an expert who made her feel the secret of the deepest female orgasm. Unfortunately, we are not told any technical details for practising it at home, which leaves you stepping out a little unsatisfied.
You can buy a package with instructions for a few euros, but we were not here for a sales demonstration. So that needs to be worked on before Gian Van Grunsven can be promoted from Parade to TED. Then again, that gurgling results are guaranteed when you really learn to love yourself is a nice bridge to the Narcissus reference in Marijn Graven's Lo Lie Taa. Then everything comes full circle again.
In preparation lies at least half the battle, it appears at Boulevard. This is a beautiful thing to witness in every way.
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