image249 image1075

With :


John Burteaux

Sylvette Loisy

Jessica Buresi

Sylvie Subra

Diane Regneault

Christophe Chêne

Nelle Faure

Cécilia Yadan

Fabrice Hasovic

Régis Samba Kounzi

Julien Devemy

Carolyn Davey

David Baque

Sophie Chauvet

Anne Laure Miard

Sébastien Heintz

José Belanche

Camille Adelin

Dorsaf Ben Nasser

Corinne Callot Rochelois

Elise Batista

Alex Escoto

Véronique Sellem

Raphaël Brovrad


Text : Isidore Ducasse

Duration : 60 mn

Take this waltz is a choreographic and theatrical performance for 24 performers based on the text Les Chants de Maldorar, Comte de Lautréamont, Isidore Ducasse


Incomprehensible pederasts, it is not I who will hurl insults at your great degradation; it is not I who will come to throw scorn on your infundibuliform anus. It is enough that the shameful and almost incurable diseases which beset you should carry with them their inevitable punishment. Legislators of stupid institutions, inventors of a narrow morality, get away from me, for I am an impartial soul. And you young adolescents, explain to me why vengeance has sprung up in your hearts to have attached to the side of humanity such a crown of wounds. Your prostitution, offering itself to the first comer, exercises the logic of the thinkers... Are you of a less or more earthly nature than your fellow men? (...)

One last word... it was a winter night. As the wind whistled through the fir trees, the Creator opened his door in the middle of the darkness and let in a pederast.


Les Chants de Maldoror, Chant V, Isidore Ducasse


Music : John Zorn, Léonard Cohen, Röyksopp, Jean-Philippe Goude


image251 image1069
image1321 image1320
image1076 image1080
image1070 image1071
image1079 image1082
image1068 image1074

(...) Do you have a sixth sense that you lack? Do not lie, and say what you think.  This is not a question I am asking you; for since I have been an observer of the sublimity of your grandiose intelligences, I know what to expect. Be blessed by my left hand, be sanctified by my right hand, angels protected by my universal love. I kiss your face, I kiss your breast, I kiss, with my sweet lips, the various parts of your harmonious and perfumed body. I had to open your legs to get to know you and my mouth had to hang on the insignia of your modesty. (...) In the meantime, let him who burns with the ardour of sharing my bed come to me; but I place a strong condition on my hospitality: he must not be more than fifteen years old. Let him not think that I am thirty; what does that matter? Age does not diminish the intensity of feelings, far from it; If he has not passed puberty, let him come closer. Hold me close, and do not fear to hurt me.

But do not forget every day to wash the skin of your parts, with hot water, for otherwise venereal cankers would infallibly grow on the slit corners of my unfulfilled lips. Oh, if instead of being a hell, the universe had been a celestial immense anus... Yes, I would have thrust my penis through her bloody sphyncter, shattering, with my impetuous movements, the very walls of her basin! Misfortune would not then have blown, on my blinded eyes, whole dunes of quicksand; I would have discovered the subterranean place where lies the sleeping truth, and the rivers of my viscous sperm would have found in this way an ocean to rush into! (...) I have always had an infamous caprice for the pale youth of colleges and the withered children of factories! Let's gradually narrow the bonds of our muscles. More. I feel it is useless to insist. I don't like women! Not even hermaphrodites! I need people who look like me, on whose foreheads human nobility is marked in sharper and more indelible characters! A brackish saliva flows from my mouth, I don't know why. Who wants to suck it out of my mouth so that I can get rid of it? It rises... it always rises! I know what it is! Have the goodness to look at my mouth! Human justice has not yet caught me in flagrante delicto, in spite of the unquestionable ability of its agents. I even murdered (not long ago!) a pederast who did not lend himself sufficiently to my passion; I threw his corpse into an abandoned well, and there is no decisive evidence against me. Do you think I want to do the same to you? You are right: beware of me, especially if you are beautiful. My parts eternally offer the gloomy spectacle of turgidity: no one can maintain (and how many have not come close!) that they have seen in a state of normal tranquillity. But, what power do my seminal drops possess to attract to them all that breathes. Unfortunately, how many centuries will it take before the human race perishes entirely by my perfidious trap! This is how a skilful mind, which does not boast, employs, in order to attain its ends, the very means which would at first seem to be an invincible obstacle. The theatre of battle is no more than a vast field of carnage, when the night reveals its presence and the silent moon appears between the tears of the clouds.

The Songs of Maldoror, Song V, Isidore Ducasse