Mes frères
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Mes frères

Pascal Rambert / Arthur Nauzyciel

Not recommended

to children under 16

A house in the forest. 4 men – loggers, woodworkers – brothers, and a woman – the maid. All their desires, thoughts, and words hang her. She, in turn, asserts her freedom. They yowl, bellow, and bray. They lay bare their tortured nights. Is it all a dream? Mes frères (My Brothers) is just that: an evocation of masculine desire, fantasy, and obsession. It explores their consequences for a male, deep in his flesh as well as on the surface of his skin. And it tells how women might use them. Mes frères (My Brothers) voices such all-devouring desire – the fleeting seam of existence – in terms of a backwoods story: or is it perhaps an animist poem or indeed a lover’s ritual. Already in Sœurs (Sisters), written for Audrey Bonnet and Marina Hands, two women engage in a struggle to the death. Tooth and nail. Word-for-word. Mano a mano. Mes frères (My Brothers) mounts a similar frontal assault, elemental in kind, beyond all reality.     

Pascal Rambert has written a terrifying story of ravenous destruction: “human beings who literally devour each other. But, contrary to what women have had to endure for centuries – and how men have devoured women unrestrained – I wanted to reverse the trend and give men to be devoured by a woman, so that they too might know what it feels like.” 
 

Mes frères (My Brothers) explores 3 lines of force: a certain relationship with nature, with the elemental crustiness of life; art as the creator of imaginary fantasy worlds which make light of the borders between the conscious and sub-conscious mind; a plunge into the underlying structures of the human psyche and the family ties that ensnare us.  

Not recommended

to children under 16