She stopped at the bottom of the stairs. She felt their presence, up there, in front of her door, “the sour and strong smell” from “two bodies steeped in despair” and don’t want to see them. What might she tell them? Their daughter, Daniella, committed suicide in high school and she was her teacher. She refuses to go up to meet the bereaved parents but there, behind closed doors in the hall of the building, she begins to talk to them.
From Daniella, who was her “favorite student” but that she did not help despite the cries for help. From herself too, from this childhood in the streets of radiant Oran, then Marseille and Royan, finally, the illusion of a refuge. What is she hiding behind this image of a quiet woman, “tasteless”, forged by itself? She takes care of her figure and especially her hair. On the other hand, she mightn’t stand those of Daniella, those dreadlocks that she saw hissing like snakes on the young girl’s head.
The meeting of a feather and an actress
With this character imagined for her by Marie Ndiaye, Nicole Garcia, alone on stage for the first time in her career, signs a masterful return to the theater. The velvety depth of her voice, the intensity of her gaze, her physical presence between hardness and fragility carry the audience away in this disturbing monologue.
→ REREAD. “Three pieces” by Marie NDiaye, dialogues of the deaf
The words, pressed by this sudden confession, jostle and collide in an almost breathless movement. With its usual density, Marie Ndiaye’s pen navigates between very significant social issues – adolescent malaise, school bullying, adult responsibility – and the timeless twists and turns of the human soul. A tough but fascinating exploration.
