Mademoiselle Julie

Readers of the Thpanish blog will be familiar with my unconditional love for the amazing adventures of the lovable duo of Strindberg and Helium:

Strindberg and Helium at the Beach

This evening, I tried something far more risky. I attended a work in which only the depressive genius of Strindberg was represented, without the compensating comic relief of Helium to lighten the mix. Specifically, the Théâtre National de la Colline's production of "Miss Julie" (in French, with helpful surtitles in English). It had been recommended on the ACCORD school's website.

Paraphrasing the program notes:

Diving into Strindberg is a descent into Hell. The Hell of class struggle and the battle between the sexes. The Hell of paranoid delirium and complete breakdown... a long day's journey into night, into the heart of darkness ...

Indeed. Old August was one messed-up dude, with a singularly pessimistic view of human nature.

The production was excellent, and I feel that I certainly earned my culture points this evening (bonus points for hardly availing myself of the surtitles - yeah!).

Here is a link to what the Financial Times reviewer had to say about the production:

Clare Shine's review of "Mademoiselle Julie"

I wish I could say I found the evening uplifting. But, frankly, the whole thing left me feeling kind of fragile.

I miss my pussycats.