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[Theatre]

Milo Rau

Compassion. L'histoire de la mitraillette

From 7 to 11 November

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01 40 03 75 75 Monday to Saturday from 10.30am to 7.30pm

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Full Price 20€
Reduced rate* 15€
Carte Villette and Subscribers* 12€
Youth Card* 12€
Under 12 years old / Young Subscribers 8€


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Tous les spectacles à 10, 15 or 20€ avec les meilleures places en priorité
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Carte Duo
30% de réduction sur tous les spectacles et les Ateliers Villette à 8€, en toute liberté
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Pour les moins de 26 ans

Venue

Access Porte de Pantin :
Metro : Line 5
Bus : Line 75,151
Tram : Line T3b
Parking Nord "Cité des Sciences" - PML please call 01 40 03 75 75

Date

From November 7th to 11th
Every day at 8pm

Duration: 1h45

In his hard-hitting shows, the Swiss director Milo Rau brings to the stage the violence of the world. Through the destinies of two women, both of whom have lived through the genocides in Africa, one a witness and the other a victim, he highlights the contradictions of our globalized societies. Can compassion have frontiers? → as part of the festival d’Automne

THE PLAY

From the Ceaucescu trial to the “Dutroux case”, the burning issues that surround the violence of events of today’s world are at the heart of Milo Rau’s shows. Today, the plight of refugees is putting to the test the cohesion of our societies and their aptitude to show empathy. According to Rau, a former student of Pierre Bourdieu, it would seem that the sole aim of theatre is to open our eyes to the spectacle of the misery in the world.

In Compassion. L’histoire de la mitraillette, he confronts the destinies of two women: the Swiss-born Ursina Lardi, in the role of a former member of an NGO who witnessed the massacres in Rwanda and Congo; and Consolate Sipérius, from Burundi, who plays herself, that of an actress who survived the genocide, and then came to Belgium later in life.

Shifting between immediacy and distance, documentary theatre and mise en abyme, this double monologue, based on interviews with ONG personnel, priests and victims of the war themselves, unfurls in the setting of ransacked office, strewn with debris. Is this, perhaps, a way of figuring our upside-down societies in all their duplicity, passivity and pseudo-humanity?