Blog of Gérard Delahaye, singer3 February 2018
The Cirque Plume and the horror
During a quick trip to Caen, we spent an afternoon at the Memorial, which has taken up the cause to describe the war and promote peace. It’s a shock. Destruction, hatred, hangings, betrayals, denunciations: the worst fruits that humans can cultivate, as if they were fixed on destroying themselves.
In the evening, we attended the latest show by Cirque Plume, which will also be their last. It is aptly titled "La dernière saison” (“The Last Season”). We have been following their antics for years, out of personal friendship and pure spectator enthusiasm. We recognized once again that unreal glow, that poetic world full of sweetness, humor and images born from a dream —a blossoming dream in this sometimes dull and cruel world. Yes, like distant cousins, we enjoy meeting back up with the troupe at every step of the way. And it’s so good to be there, in the middle of an audience that is mixed in age, in condition and in origin. It’s good to share laughter, tears, pleasure and beauty.
A dancer who flies around a feather, bombs and mass graves, laughing acrobats, a final solution, flying musicians, ruins and rubble, a zany clown, outlines of the moon: this was not intended. But the convening of these two worlds gave us, in a few hours, the worst and the best of humanity.
The show’s artists give us much to see and hear. They touch that dream buried in our hearts. At times they dare to plunge into the depths of our turpitudes, like messengers denouncing misfortune. But more often than not, they care for our aches and pains — at times they even heal us, showing us that we can be greater and more beautiful than we are. They show us one of the ways into this intimate and warm core that alone can save us. Thank you Cirque Plume!
They are giving themselves two more years before closing the door on their big top of wonders. Hurry!