Gli Uomini
Le Sépulcre, in Caen. A former church converted into a centre for choreographic research, plunged into semi-darkness pierced by a few rays of raw light. On the ground, hundreds of photobooth pictures: anonymous men. Who are they, or were they? A woman choreographer moves them around. First perusing them, then, more and more frantically, as if to absorb them: seeking all the different ways to be one with them. The men, and one woman: how to interact between one and the many, between the present and the absent?
Storyline
Le Sépulcre, in Caen. A former church converted into a centre for choreographic research, plunged into semi-darkness pierced by a few rays of raw light. On the ground, hundreds of photobooth pictures: anonymous men. Who are they, or were they? A woman choreographer moves them around. First perusing them, then, more and more frantically, as if to absorb them: seeking all the different ways to be one with them. The men, and one woman: how to interact between one and the many, between the present and the absent?