Jacqueline

When I was a child, it was through boulevard theater that I discovered the theater. My earliest memories of wonder are linked to the Théâtre de la Tête d’Or in Lyon, that private institution which hosted all the great hits of Parisian boulevard theater. I remember the sets—a bourgeois living room, slamming doors, a back kitchen, a bow window or veranda, a view of the rooftops of Paris, and above all: the staircase—the three knocks, the red curtain, the audience’s laughter, and the phenomenal energy expended by the actors to draw the audience into what is, at heart, nothing more than a frivolous fantasy.