A multilingual homage to that untranslatable word: complicité
It begins with some vodka and a platter of pickles. It ends with a cup of black tea. Ganbei (干杯)! Even by the unorthodox standards of immersive theatre, this is one wacky show, inclusive of interpretative dances, satirical sketches and forgiveness rituals.
Le Grand Soir is written and performed in four languages: English, French, Mandarin and Russian. As part of the Voila! Theatre Festival, Mille Zhong and Alissia Pervozvanski-Dangles bring their complex migrant narratives to a London audience. They focus on their fraught connections to Communist-turned-Capitalist dictatorships, the beauty of queer friendships and (one for the masses) how to navigate your daddy issues.
With a running time of only an hour, the show is completely stuffed and arguably takes on more than it can handle. The result is a disjointed, somewhat gimmicky piece that is over-reliant on sporadic confessions and confidences. Some of these scenes create real moments of connection, only to fall into the abyss a minute later. For instance, midway through the play Alissia embarks on a touching monologue about her time at a top circus school in Moscow. Tears in her eyes, she tells the audience about how her discipline-obsessed father repeatedly ignored doctors’ advice concerning her physical limitations. Her training in Moscow entailed severe trials, like placing heavy stones on her legs to build endurance. Medical professionals warned that her bones could not withstand the pressure and that she risked sustaining serious injuries, but her father refused to listen. Following a similarly tragic monologue by Mille, audience members are handed slips of paper addressed to their own fathers. Below the line “I FORGIVE YOU FOR” is a blank space for your entry. From this point onwards, the actors surrender the power of confession to the lure of collective catharsis. They build intimacy – and even friendship – with the audience at the expense of their own art.
There is a fine line between theatre and therapy; Le Grand Soir crosses this line repeatedly, turning something excitingly original into something decidedly run-of-the-mill. The props say it all: an old scallop lamp and two private notebooks. Trauma bonding in the living room. Whilst a central theme in the play is connection, that elusive complicité which draws people together, the warmth needs more direction. The beautiful affection they nurture in the space requires structural support to lend it significance. When everyone is asked to dance at the end it is fun, just rather baffling. You’re left feeling light and fuzzy only to ask yourself, upon leaving the venue: what did it all mean, exactly?
But in spite of this, you do take something away. The show’s strength lies in its tenderness, palpable even in scenes packed with surreal political humour. Perhaps the best example of this is the spoof gameshow scene in which Mille and Alissia don masks of Stalin and Zedong. Playing in the background is a song with the hook, “be nice to each other”. The song repeats as they answer tongue-in-cheek questions like: who was the better farmer? Such moments are well executed, striking a delicate balance between sensitivity and playfulness. Overall, it is clear that Le Grand Soir is still finding its feet, but with some structural edits for the sake of cohesion and depth, it could have more to offer.