An Armchair for the Orchestra – The Parisian theater reviews site » Les idoles, written and directed by Christophe Honoré, Théâtre de la Porte Saint-Martin, Paris

© Jean-Louis Fernandez

ƒƒƒ article from Nicolas Brizault-Eyssette

We take almost the same ones as in 2019 and we start again! The Idols. A term evoking hysterical joy, magical why not, or those figures before whom we prostrate, we thank. Those that Christophe Honoré wishes to present to us are those which were terribly effective for him. His idols. Those who come to stroll this evening at the Théâtre de la Porte Saint-Martin, Cyril Collard, Bernard-Marie Koltès, Jacques Demy, Hervé Guibert, Jean-Luc Lagarce and Serge Daney, idols who passed on the other side of the wall between 1989 and 1994. AIDS obliges, the destructive years, the years of disgust for some, fear for others, particular tremor for the kids of the 1970s, who landed in real life, sex and reflection.

It all begins with the single voice of Christophe Honoré, perched in the air, resonant and having, as it were, the wall itself, a voice which explains to us, tells us about the pleasure of its owner, his discoveries in cinema, books, newspapers, when he arrived in Paris. What he owes to their authors. And the tribute through The Idols begins. Collard/Harrison Arévalo, Koltès/Youssouf Abi-Ayad, Demy/Marlène Saldana, Guibert/Marina Foïs, Lagarce/Julien Honoré and Daney/Jean-Charles Clichet are at the Théâtre de la Porte saint-Martin, with us, they are in front , take advantage of being there without really knowing why, they are not alive but almost. Two women present in the cast, a saving, resonant, reasoning idea.

All six of them laugh, discuss, flirt or argue, life is there. This strange thing, not bad in fact, so enjoyable and luminous that we sometimes get lost in it but there is no photo, it's wonderful. Except there… AIDS. AIDS very early. Early AIDS. The secret, the flight, forward, backward. Friends, family, or nothing. This slow exhaustion of the body that they described or not.

All six remember, yes, the splendid and the jaw-dropping, they speak of isolation, after the outbursts, the confinement of the last days in the hospital. The pain in silence sometimes, hidden under the tubes, white blankets, and nothing left but the stupid latex of the gloves, this bastard of latex, not enough there while they were alive. The threat, the fear, this bitch of death much more discreet today. They talk about partying or not. Demy, naked under his mink, sulks, he doesn't want anyone to know and doesn't immediately join this roughly linked group, and then shit! Long live The Young Ladies of Rochefort ! and this magnificent Marlène Saldana takes us into a sumptuous ballet. Collard, for fun when he's not flirting hotly, has a fake-real victory at the Césars. He died three days before Wild Nights wins four. Etc.

Don't imagine for a second a tearful litany, not at all. Bursts of laughter marry tears, darkness. So beautiful, so close. Yes. Life, there this evening, before our eyes. A magical piece, through words, silence or shit. Honoré makes us understand the strength that his “idols” gave him, and he makes us want to re-read these authors, to see their films again and to get carried away.

What if we haven't read, if we don't know? It's nothing, all six are men, men tonight in front of a half-open door.

Black.
Laughter, sex, love.
The end, death.

Make love to me.

© Jean-Louis Fernandez

The Idolsby Christophe Honoré

From January 18 to April 6, 2025

At 8 p.m. Tuesday to Friday, 8:30 p.m. Saturday and 3 p.m. Sunday

English surtitles on Saturday January 26

Breaks on March 27 and 28

Duration: 2h10