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and incomplete sentences. It is inimitably funny in that your at last see in what an unthinkingly stupid way a person tells a story in little movements. The repetition of the act takes the edge of the performance, but the effect is perfect. Rien dé Rien is strongly dependent on the contribution of the actors and dancers: when 58 year-old ex ballerina Marie-Louise Wilderijkx appears on stage, she is the despairing mother of Prins Siegfried from Swan Lake, only to then become a neurotic shainsmoker who sits staring in front of her. Willkie sings beautifully, Larbi Cherkaoui steals the shoe when it comes to pure dance and cellist Roel Dieltiens provides just the right musical note. His choice of composers such as Sofia Gubaidulina and Luc Von Hove occasionally lends an atmosphere of melandholy to Rien de Rien. The performance slumps every now and then because not all the scenes are equally good, and Larbi Cherkaoui is inclined to exploit those that are succesful. But what an extraordinary talent and what wonderful debut, Belgium can be truly proud of a citizen like this. NRC Handelsblad, 11/10/00. Ingrid Van Frankenhuyzen A LIFE WITHOUT REGRETS For many years the Flemish collective Les Ballets C, de la

В. has succeeded in fusing dance and theatre into a natural whole, in a manner that is quite unique. This will be andorsed by anyone who has seen Bonjour Madame, lets op Bach (both by Alain Platei), or Plage Tattoo (Koen Augustijnen). Dancer Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, who has already created smaller choreographies within various productions, has now made Rien de Rien (Non, je ne regrette rien), referring to Edith Piaf. Living life without regrets. Taking it as it comes. The work has fewer theatrical highlights than usual, giving it added atmosphere and intimacy. Cherkaoui selects a mosque as the meeting place for his characters. A Tina Turner-type young girl, a mature woman, a Christ figure, two maladjusted men and the cello-player Roel Dieltiens all meet one another here. The wooden flooring, the Persian carpets scattered around and Arabian characters on the real wall emphasise the intimate atmosphere of this sacred place. There is a coming and going of people, each of whom has their own story to tell using words, gestures, dance, song, silence or combinations of expression. The cellist's narration takes the form of a virtuoso performance, providing a musical commentary on what is happening or backs up what is being told, The mosque is entered with or without respect. It is wonderful to see how the same light steps danced by the young girl appear to be so different when performed later on by the mature woman. There is hilarity when the latter cannot keep up with spoken words, but at the same time have a life of their own in that they become something universal. They are more than just the natural gestures of the individual storyteller. The dance is characterised by the curvature of bent bodies, arms and legs, hands and feet, and twisted bodies too. Operated from the elbows, arms frequently appear to have a life of their own. Influenced by masters such ad De Keersmoeker and Platei, Cherkaoui is discovering his own style of movement. With his background as a show dancer as well as a trained classical ballet dancer, there is fortunately enough variation in movements available. Especially conspicuous are the frolicking backward movements or backward turns, giving the impression that part of a film is being rewound. Working close to the floor poses no problem for thedancers. Walking on the knees, sliding on the belly and turning low on their axis all appear to be done effortlessly. The dancers and the cellist also manage to transport the audience from mood to mood. Humour softens and puts into perspective the performers' pain, which is sometimes palpable. The tone throughout is mostly optimistic. Cherkaoui succeeds in touching us with these lives in a nutschell. Rotterdams Dagblod, 10/10/00. Mieke de Bont