Només la fi del món
From Jean-Luc Lagarce, directed by Oriol Broggi
After twelve years of absence, a writer returns to his hometown to announce to his family that he is dying. As resentment rewrites the course of the afternoon, conflicts come to light fueled by doubt and loneliness.
With little success in his lifetime, Jean-Luc Lagarce (1957-1995) is today one of the most valued contemporary French playwrights. Throughout his life he published 25 plays highly valued by critics. Only the end of the world was written in 1990, Lagarce himself was living at that time the announcement of his own death at the age of thirty-four. In 2008 the Comédie – Française added the work to its repertoire. It won the 2008 Molière Award for the best show in a national theater.
Text
Jean-Luc Lagarce
Directed by
Oriol Broggi
Translation by
Ramon Vila
Assistant Director
Albert Reverend
With
Muntsa Alcañíz
Clàudia Benito
Màrcia Cisteró
Sergi Torrecilla
David Vert
Lighting
Pep Bracons
Costume design
Marta Pell
Audiovisual support
Francesc Isern
Audio support
Damien Bazin
Special thanks to
Marta Filella
Councilors
Raúl Gallegos and Marc Serra
Function technicians
Roger Blasco, Juan Boné, and Aleix Martín
Graphic design
Carla Vilaró
Photography
Bito Cels
Public attention
Marta Cros, Ailin Migliora, and Núria Ubiergo
Thanks to Toni Pujals and Adrián Rodríguez
A production of La Perla 29
Back home
One day, I'm sure, we'll look back and remember these days of rehearsal for "Només la fi del món". It is, has been, was when we read it and even now, a kind of reunion with a poetics we were unaware of, but somehow was within us. It has happened to us. An author we hadn't worked with - I don't know why Lagarce has had so little impact here, in our country. A text with a new poetics for me. A new way of putting us on stage.
Louis, pronounced "lui" - in French, him - stands before us and starts. It's only a few moments that separate, forever, reality from fiction. He stands before us and starts to speak. Just speaking. He leads us to a special place in a few seconds. Coming from nowhere, a young man - because he's still very young at thirty-four - looks at us and explains. He tells us the pain he carries hidden within him. His experience is profound and immense.
The play seems to me, it seemed to me, it seems now and it seemed to me when I read it for the first time, incredibly plausible. I couldn't believe they were speaking so profoundly about me without saying a single word about me.
Like an immense centrifugation that starts and doesn't know how to stop. All sorts of phrases from other works could be present in this one. And it's true, when we see someone for the last time, we don't always know it will be the last. This phrase from "Cels" and "Boscos" which makes me cry, could sum up "Només la fi del món".
Lagarce doesn't allow an easy summary. It's unlikely to find an acceptable reduction. And yet, or precisely because of this, everything explodes in him. Far away. And the shockwave is devastating. But perhaps that misfortune, as it is narrated, experienced by each of the characters, can bring you a strange good. The fear. The fear of not being loved enough. The fear of not loving enough. Life itself. The fear of explaining it, of living it within the family.
A family. An incomplete love. Infinite sorrow. The figure of the older brother stitches and unstitches the wounds. And each has their pain tied to their role. We can break it and throw it into the air, but we'll have to know how to do it and we'll have to know how to sew the wounds.
Oriol Broggi
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