An Opening Act full of risk
by Thusnelda Marín Jungmann
This review of the performance “Damoclès” by Compagnie Inextremiste Circus is written in the spirit of last night’s show: provocation without compromise, taking every risk. That is precisely why I wish to set out the context on which my assessment is based. For when I make pointed observations and judgements below, I do so not from a distance, but from a concrete experience – as part of an audience that itself became the subject of the production.
One man, a lot of wood; a divided audience. This piece is polarising. That is its aim. And it succeeds. At its heart lies the question of responsibility. In the spotlight: the audience. Also in the spotlight: Fabrice Dominici, a member of the company. In the role of a visibly middle-aged white man – with all his toxic masculinity, which he embodies authentically – he provokes the audience to come on stage and help him. With what? Moving heavy wooden beams, holding them in place to create an unstable structure in the end. The morning after, over coffee on the festival grounds, people are both raving about it and calming their nerves. Conversations turn into aftercare; it’s almost like licking one’s wounds. Risk, after all.
Of course, human encounters always carry a certain risk. Yet here, the risk is not merely accepted but deliberately provoked. At the same time, the question arises: isn’t radical risk long since to be found elsewhere today? It is no coincidence that numerous publications on radical tenderness are currently appearing. And it is precisely against this backdrop that what happens on stage irritates and shocks me: How is it possible, in the year 2026, that a man can so matter-of-factly take over the (theatre) space, repeatedly misname a woman from the audience – conceptually intended, of course – degrade her to an object, use her as a coat rack, and later insult her as something animalistic? If I want to see that, I’ll just stand outside my front door. There I encounter this reality every day – without having to pay an entrance fee. This form of art is no longer radical. It is not risky. It is inhumane.
I wonder: Where is the awareness team at this moment?
I wonder: How can an artistic director – under the motto ‘Come closer’ – choose such an opening act and thereby set the tone for an entire festival?
My actions last night were initially those of a private individual: I offered help from the audience to the person who had been singled out and subjected to this treatment. In fact, for a moment I forgot the context: it felt as though I were offering a stranger on the open street, in a situation that was not entirely clear, a sense of safety in the form of solidarity. She agreed, and we held hands briefly. When Dominici’s behaviour – or rather that of his stage character – did not change, I left the room. Not because I was overwhelmed, but as a conscious decision not to support this form of interaction. Now I am formulating my commentary as a cultural journalist – in the style of the show itself: provocative, contradictory, risk-taking. I say it clearly and without any mitigation: I believe such works have no place on stage anymore.
And yet I find myself wavering. For at the same time, I recognise an artistic merit in not merely viewing contemporary circus as light entertainment, but in using the guise of entertainment to tackle complex themes and challenge the audience to stand up for one another. If the concept is to shape a resistant audience, then these radical methods can certainly be placed within a tradition stretching back to the performance and art scenes of the 1980s. If we wish to view failure as productive, an uncomfortable question arises: has this piece failed – or have we, because we did not resist?
At the end of the performance, I was told, several people walk hand in hand across the fragile wooden structure they have built together. A moment of collectivism that is moving. And I can feel my own rigidity crumbling. Damn. So back to the premise: when Fabrice Dominici claims during the final applause that such plays are needed right now, I take issue with that. I argue for the opposite: we no longer need plays like this.
But presumably that is precisely part of the provocation. Perhaps this statement is less of an assertion and more of an invitation: to re-examine one’s own position, to formulate a counterargument, to take responsibility. For from my perspective, a contemporary form of radicalism lies not in the mere escalation of crossing boundaries, but instead in the willingness to allow for multiple voices – and to endure them. This commentary follows precisely this principle: it does not remain confined to a single voice.
An audio track is attached to it, revealing an intimate post-show discussion among festival-goers. This is complemented by a conversation between Fabrice Dominici and myself, which reveals different perspectives on risk in contemporary circus. Furthermore, I expressly invite the readers of this text to respond in writing. And once again: intended less as a provocation than as an invitation – to pause, pick up a pen, take a stand, question one’s own understanding of contemporary circus, and send it as a letter to our editorial team (thusnelda.marin.jungmann@posteo.de).
So:
Dear Compagnie Inextremiste Circus, dear Tim Behren, dear audience –
let’s be honest: Why do we still need works like this today?