André Marcon brings his remarkable, unflappable presence to Ubu Roi, but even he cannot quite pull Daniel Benoin's deliberately parodic production out of its rut at the Théâtre de Paris. The choice of venue is no accident: It was in this very hall (formerly named Nouveau-Théâtre from 1891 to 1906) that Alfred Jarry premiered, in 1896, this schoolboy farce originally intended to ridicule one of his teachers.
The playwright was just 23 when the thunderous "merdre" exchanged at the outset between Père and Mère Ubu first rang out and pricked the audience's ears. The bourgeoisie and critics could not accept it. Young Jarry had just dropped a transgressive bombshell with this comedy of power that avoided no vulgarity, flouted the conventions of theater, trampled on the rules of dramaturgy and shattered the last remnants of human, political and ethical morality.
At the heart of this avant-garde blow to French aesthetics are two upstart protagonists who, once they seize the throne through treachery and murder, enrich themselves at the people's expense and plunge the country into chaos. One hundred and thirty years have passed since the premiere, but it takes little effort to spot contemporary counterparts to the creatures Jarry invented.
