Description

Berenice, Queen of Palestine, loves Titus, Emperor of Rome. Titus loves Berenice. But reasons of state stand in the way of their love.<div> The Roman Senate could not tolerate an emperor marrying a foreigner. Titus had to leave Berenice.</div><div><br></div><div> The plot is simple. The words are poignant. They resonate within us long after the credits roll. Bérénice is a play about language. Words are weapons of destruction. But they can also console and restore hope. Bérénice listens to herself more than she looks at herself. Every word is there to remind us of the power of language. The text seems immutable, as if it has always been there.</div><div><br></div><div> "I discovered Racine's play in high school 35 years ago. Then I came across it again 15 years ago at the Antibéa theater, in a production directed by Dominique Czapski. The text struck me once more: the adult understood that the adolescent had never left him. Bérénice haunts me, and I had to return to it. To try to understand how Racine, with a simple story and simple words, manages to stir the soul. I had to find Bérénice again. To retrace his steps: the path of the theater, powerful and modest, poetic and accessible, pure and cruel, passionate and serene. A theater that transcends us, superior to life insofar as the anecdotal—an individual event, a rupture—is juxtaposed with the grandiose and the universal."</div><div> Behind our masks, there is smoke. Such is humanity. But if we take the time to explore our souls, we find the light. This light is the best within us, and it eventually shines through and saves us. Love does not die. It is there. Eternal, like the text of Bérénice. The love between Titus and Bérénice, because it is spoken, repeated, hammered home, exists for eternity. This is why Racine's play is an optimistic one. Not because the characters do not die, but because it praises the power of Love over presence and time.</div><div> Bérénice does not leave. Her flame is eternal. Her words do not vanish. They are engraved on our inner walls. To find Bérénice again is to find ourselves in our fragility, sustained by the power of poetry.</div><div><br></div><div> - Cédric Garoyan, director</div><div><br></div>