On Saturday evening, I walked over to Alliance Francaise to watch Rimbaud’s ‘Enfer et Illumination’, a French play that is part of the month long ‘The French Touch’ festival.
The play basically involved a man (Rimbaud) and a woman (his muse?) reciting Rimbaud’s poetry in French, and enacting it in the Kuchipudi tradition (painted faces et al), while English subtitles were projected onto the screen.
I hardly know any French, haven’t ever read Rimbaud, and have no interest in Kuchipudi. The only reason I went for the play was because it was free and therefore allowed.
However, Rimbaud’s almost metaphysical poetry, my near zero comprehension of the French language, and the French actors’ rather amateurish rendition of Kuchipudi didn’t mix well and I walked out of the auditorium with a minor headache.
Later in the night, a friend came over to my house, and we stayed up all night and drank a bottle of my best French Merlot. She was much amused with my French escapade and teased me about it all night, but she also gave me one of the best head massages I have ever had.
