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Carte d'identité
It begins with an empty stage. No backdrop, no fireworks, and no sugar added to this one-man show by Diogène “Atome” Ntarindwa as he recounts his childhood repatriation to Rwanda from the DRC during the civil war of the early nineties.
Entering the limelight, the only light, Diogène appears slightly nervous, but this subterfuge doesn’t last. His cameo serves to explain the rules of the African oral tradition. In Rwanda, it is the father’s right to pass down stories. In a humorous transformation, Atome reintroduces himself to the audience, in an altered manner, as his father, complete with accent. The story revolves around the eccentricities of the old man, at once charming and sincere, to be followed by a series of important characters from Atome’s past: a professor, a drill sergeant, even the President of Rwanda. Each has his own idea of how to improve the country’s problems.
Technically speaking, it’s a formidable act. Stepping from one spot light to another serves as a conduite for his changing personalities. Certain moments engage Diogène in a rapid dialogue between two different characters, played simultaneously by himself. Truly grand form. Still at other moments, Atome the narrator resurfaces and candidly confers to the audience a clarification or correction of his father-as-storyteller, building a frank sidebar between the performer and spectators.
Though self-justification is not the centerpiece of Atome’s performance, he does well to avoid objectivity. His characters are developed and easily distiguished. The story is an education into a time and place often misunderstood by outsiders. There is potency in this autobiography. These are not lines learned, but a life retold with a virtuoso’s touch. A must see.
K. ELIOT
Carte d’identité at Théâtre de Poche from June 3rd to the 14th at à 20h30
Written and performed by Diogène « Atome » Ntarindwa
Directed by Philippe Laurent, regard extérieur Jacques Delcuvellerie
Collaborative artist Olivier Wiame
Lights Xavier Lauwers
Drop-forged violence
The first frames of the volume surprise the reader awaiting a classic manga. Le Chant des Sabres is a hybrid, somewhere between manga, classic comics, and the well-known japanese engravings. This gives a particular style at once haiku and dream-like, which will be sure to please those who go for originality of design. It may be harder for some to really get into the artwork, but it would be a shame not to treat the role of color within. Their dominance render an unreal yet suberb atmosphere.
Backround, medieval Japan. Enter So-Eyon, mercenary, punisher, and confidant to his master Fu Zhu-Ing, a powerful and slightly crackpot Manderin. When times get tough, he must fight pressing external forces while simultaneously snuffing a revolt from within his own ranks.
As the title suggests, Le Chant des Sabres is teeming with ultra-violence. The blood flows so much and so often that it feels forced, even for a war story, taking the caricature a bit too far. In addition, the onomatopoeias could be more asthetic, as they give a rough draft feeling to otherwise polished artwork and text. The result is...Humph! All the dreaminess and poetry of the work are stained by B-series production. Was this was the goal of artist Tentacle Eye and scenarist Antoine Ozanam? Well, we can bemoan it, as much as the art appears extraordinary and non-conformist. Overlooking a few details, the work remains worthwhile.
CHRISTOPHE DEVRIENDT
Translated by : K. ELIOT
Le Chant des Sabres, 144 pages
Scenario : Antoine Ozanam
Art : Tentacle Eye
KSTR, Casterman, 2008
Photo : © Casterman
Shitty shitty, bang bang
The story starts on a sour note. Simon, a scientific researcher, is left cold by his trompet-playing wife Anne whom he idolizes. Still love-struck, he refuses to accept her choice to leave their cellule. Desperate, he begins to harasse her in vain. One unfortunate night beneath the balcony of his Roxane, he crosses the sidewalk and rushes into a hotel. There, he find companionship with the night clerk. His visits become regular, to talk and to spy on his lost love. The newly self-emancipated musician truly is lost, torn between her desire for independance and her need for affection. Despite his sorry hand, Simon’s life continues, but his work in the lab mirrors his condition, giving some surprising results.
Guillaume Long and Fabienne Costes deliver a graphic novel of the third kind. Not by the design itself – which resembles others – but by its remarkable staging. First-person perspectives from secondary characters, original angles, ellipses, and flash-backs are all nicely rendered. Moreover, the scenario impresses even the least curious of readers. Despite a classic, linear start, a few scattered clues indicate the gravity that the story will take, heavy and chock-full.
La Cellule (The Cell) could be a philosophical fable on love, living together, hate, and horror. Without pretension, the volume solicites to the reader its questions about the difficulty of peaceful living. Happiness is portrayed as a taught string ready to give at any moment. As they say: a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush!
CHRISTOPHE DEVRIENDT
Translated by : K. ELIOT
La Cellule
Scenario : Fabienne Costes & Guillaume Long
Design : Guillaume Long
120 pages, 12,75€
KSTR, Casterman
Photo : © Casterman
Burning down the House
The first plate sets the story in motion : a real estate classified for Happy House: for sale, 17m², 700,000€, needs work. No doubt, were not in Kansas anymore, but the Parisian microcosm and site of the latest work between Dupuy and Berberian. The subject is human behavior in the concrete jungle, and not just anyone either. The two cohorts put the yuppy under the microscope. Ambitious. Paris is the perfect slide to reveal the traits and tricks of this modern tribe.
Like Mr. Jean of their previous effort, the story was written and inked by two atypic pairs of hands.They pan for gold in the mud of Yuppy River with aptitude, wit, and good timing. Beginning with “Bobo idéal” (perfect yuppy) the authors show us this socially nomadic* specimen. No one is spared. The bobo splits his time between overpriced organic restaurants, fair-trade shops, and various art expos.With a humor cutting to the quick, the he-yuppy’s activities are dissected: work, divorce, child rearing, and long-shot hookups. He may be an architect, journalist, humanitarian, or poster child of incurable paradox. The she-yuppy too, has her time on the whipping post. She’s a bit a model, a bit domestic, a bit a tease, and fantisizes life as Zena warrior princess. She cultivates herself as unique in relation to others, not fit for mass reproduction.
The nailclipper humor reveals a yuppy character as magnetic as detestable. Irony tickles sarcasm, giving rise to cynical goosebumps, all the while retaining its frankness. This volume is sprinkled all over with referencial winks to the reader. For example “My Space” becomes “My Fesse”, frequented by the owners of the gloomily designed AppleMac turned pear. Renaud too, who celebrated the Yuppy, doesn’t escpape unscathed. One adopts the “bio-attitude” or the “book crossing”, a practice of sharing one writings privately, and deliberately forgetting them in public. Tendancies, tendancies, follow me and I’ll leave, leave me and I’ll follow.
The use of colors and the minimalist style render the reading pleasing and reposant. As a whole, it’s a hit. Winning the Grand Prix of Angoulême in 2008, Dupuy and Berberian fashioned a promising success. And so finished with this specimen, what’s next? A fresh look at Furitas? One can only hope.
GABRIEL HAHN
Translation by K. ELIOT
Bienvenue à Boboland, de Dupuy et Berberian en vente le 23 mai 08
56 pages, 11€95, Edition Fluide Glacial
Illustration © Fluide Glacial
*ndlr: Michel Maffesoli, Du nomadisme, vagabondages initiatiques, 1997
Scandalous or serendipitous? The new adventures of Superdupont
Certifiably
National Front, is this volume the french norm or a sarcastic ladle dipped into
the soup of hillbilly thought? Penned by three worthy representatives of french
culture, servers of verb and verve, Lefred-Thouron and Gotlib (writers) and Solé
(artwork). Superdupont returns in a sixth volume to battle the axis powers (in
this case, allied immigrants). Molière flies in spirit as Superdupont comes to
the rescue. National Education, golden child of the Hexagon, has lost its
Latin, with titles like “Leu Mondde” and “La Fransse â peurre”. Everything
unfolds along the lines of the chaos theory. Super-Frenchie in cape and country
béret departs on a Quixotian crusade against the giant windmills of ignorance,
loss of national identity, and civic responsibility. If he can’t operate the
wound, he at least decorates it with a colorful band-aid. Without tiring, he
must untangle a villainous conplot devised by a foreign party who use TCI
(technology certified incommunicable...the woueb if you will) to emprison
defenseless women and exploit them over the internet.
Careful,
colorful design with continueous movement, this volume shows lots of spirit.
Unprocessed word-play, unpasturized even in its finished product, leave an
odor-line for the reader to follow. The
compostion so unique, it could have its own certified appellation. A comic of
genetically-modified trickery, humor scorching to the 36th degree. In
this orthographic epidemic, the writers do Bernard Pivot proud, showing off
their didactic prowess. They spit historical references with the accuracy of
Eastwood’s six-shooter, yet anchor the story in contemporality. Superdupont,
who wears Sancho Pança’s skin and his master’s madness, remains a woeful hero
of misfortune, a sacrificial mascot of a new resistance in the name of France.
GABRIEL
HAHN
Translated
by K. ELIOT
Superdupont
pourchasse l’ignoble
Gotlib,
Lefred-Thouron, Solé
Edition
Fluide Glacial, 48 pages, 9€95
Illustration
© Rights Reserved
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