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Yvette Théraulaz: “At one point, Anton Chekhov was a lifeline”

Published on September 28, 2024 at 11:29. / Modified on September 28, 2024 at 6:00 p.m.

Constellations

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An autumn afternoon making rhubarb jams and listening to Paolo Conte and his raucous elegies over and over again. Yvette Théraulaz stands out on this soundtrack, on the steps of the small Lausanne building where she lives. The sky is sputtering, it’s drache day, and the great actress is sending you a sign from afar, an inky silhouette, as if the samovar was getting impatient inside, a good Russian tea, with an apple pie.

“Yes, I’ve lived there almost forever, in this working-class neighborhood.” It warms you up suddenly, Yvette. This is one of the properties of his voice which, depending on the mood, tastes like anise or a good honey mustard. Sitting now in her kitchen, all lace and black wimple, she resembles Lyubov, this great broken lady who finds her domain, The Cherry Orchard, in the play of the same name by Anton Chekhov. She played it at the Théâtre du peuple in Bussang, in the Vosges hills, in the early 2000s.

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