Le Pays lointain

For the first time, Mathieu Bertholet ventures into the meanders of Lagarce's language to make bodies sound, add figures and draw a monument to the death of a young man, to the memory of a young author.

Louis returns to this distant country to tell his family of his impending death. To say goodbye one last time, to try. Explain, apologize for too long an absence and end up saying nothing, while talking a lot. He's not coming back alone: his long-time friend and the whole gang of dead people who have spanned his life have made the trip with him. Lovers, aborted, hoped-for or regretted encounters all shed light on a final return to oneself, to oneself, to be, perhaps, ready to leave when the time is right.

In this distant land, we think we read between the lines something of the author Jean-Luc Lagarce, who died shortly after writing this last play. This journey is perhaps his, Louis', and that of all the Louises who have left a small town far from everything. It's the echo of all the voices that have made up a life, where the living and the dead express themselves, remorse and regret.