Saigon

In Saigon, a dozen or so French and Vietnamese actors of all ages, professionals and amateurs alike collectively bring to life a work which speaks of “a story of two worlds which met sixty years ago, and which have been loving, destroying and forgetting each other ever since”. The work also fleshes out “France’s need to tell its story from beyond its own frontiers”. For the members of the Les Hommes Approximatifs company, an instant or tiny detail - the lilt of a karaoke song, a cooking ingredient, a shift from one language to the next - is enough to awaken an echo of the History of our times, and to remind us that “we are the stuff, not just of our own stories and histories, but also those of others. The same goes for our suffering.” In their productions, much is played out in the intervals. In between two glances, two movements or two words. Or between two names: that of the same city, named Saigon during the era of French Indochina, and then Hô-Chi-Minh-Ville from 1975 onwards. Taking place in a restaurant, a setting for all times and places, Saigon presents us with a bouquet of voices and faces. The play was devised collectively, drawing on hundreds of almost imperceptible, intimate moments, metamorphosed into a piece of theatre that preserves every last drop of their profound humanity. The play’s triumphant success and widespread critical acclaim meant that a re-run was inevitable.