Show : Eclipse

The light turns on and then goes out. Almost strobecopic. A character appears, meticulous to the point of obsession. Especially when it comes to toasting! He juggles with a ball. But also with time, light and the spectator's gaze. Léo Rousselet defies gravity and brushes against the invisible.

Eclipse reveals an intimate and spectacular circus, where prowess becomes poetry and every silence, a cosmic breath. In this nostalgic little living room, each object is in its place. We hear the dusty notes of an old tango. Under a suspended lamp, sometimes recalcitrant, this lunar character, a sort of modern-day tightrope walker, manipulates a white ball that in motion becomes the center of a universe reduced to the essential. The light breaks create suspensions in which the ball seems to freeze, float or disappear. Light then becomes essential, an actor of the performance.

Léo Rousselet, a complete artist, juggler, clown, magician, musician, orchestrates here a scenic writing where juggling also dialogues with the shadows. The spectator loses his bearings, fascinated by this precision mechanism. Sometimes hilarious, it's so funny. And then impressed, flabbergasted. The artist takes us away from time, taking us into an incongruous universe, between hyperrealism and fantasy, as minimal as it is bewitching. His virtuosity is made up of momentum, suspensions and falls caught in extremis. It's chiseled, funny, intriguing from one end of the show to the other. A nugget.

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