Thursday, February 8, 2007
Seul Contre Tous
Posted by Jim Ridley on Thu, Feb 8, 2007 at 3:08 PM
Oh. My. God. Jean-Louis Costes is performing tonight in Nashville. I can't tell you where, as it's not information the police need to know, but if you're interested you probably already have a good idea whom to contact. It will be unforgettable, that's all I can say.
Who's Jean-Louis Costes? Here's the Scene's report from his November 2003 performance at the now-defunct Shirley Street Station:
"Unpublicized at the promoter's request—no sense distracting the cops with unfaked sex acts and purposeful nudity in the middle of a strip-club zone—the French performance artist's sacrificial-rite musical The Holy Virgin Cult deployed shock theater with genuine artistry, vaudevillian energy and a slaughterhouse stocked with sacred cattle. An actor and musician who's appeared in the most controversial French films of the past decade, Irreversible and Baise-Moi, Costes refused to allow the local audience its usual arms-folded comfort zone of indifference. He and his two collaborators charged naked into the small but astonished crowd, wielding raw chickens and a blow-up Madonna leaking fluid from every orifice. And the result, for once, was excitement and engagement instead of mere consumption. While the rest of the city slept, 30 people sat in a David Lynch psycho-lounge watching two naked men smear each other with chocolate syrup. You snooze, you lose."
Who's Jean-Louis Costes? Here's the Scene's report from his November 2003 performance at the now-defunct Shirley Street Station:
"Unpublicized at the promoter's request—no sense distracting the cops with unfaked sex acts and purposeful nudity in the middle of a strip-club zone—the French performance artist's sacrificial-rite musical The Holy Virgin Cult deployed shock theater with genuine artistry, vaudevillian energy and a slaughterhouse stocked with sacred cattle. An actor and musician who's appeared in the most controversial French films of the past decade, Irreversible and Baise-Moi, Costes refused to allow the local audience its usual arms-folded comfort zone of indifference. He and his two collaborators charged naked into the small but astonished crowd, wielding raw chickens and a blow-up Madonna leaking fluid from every orifice. And the result, for once, was excitement and engagement instead of mere consumption. While the rest of the city slept, 30 people sat in a David Lynch psycho-lounge watching two naked men smear each other with chocolate syrup. You snooze, you lose."
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