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Marion Davies and the Moon


A traveller stops at a barn in the night. There is a doorless opening through which he enters, and lets his bag drop. He lies down. Outside his footprints refill with water. In his mind he sees the road, the fields dark on either side, to his left an oblong building. As he approaches a light comes on. He stops, then continues, and the door opens. A woman leans on the end. Inside the colours are warm. He goes in. The opening to the barn is doorless. She shows him to the table, running her hand down the back of his lung. The rain is starting again on the barn roof, the upstairs windowsill, ticking like clockwork.

by Adrian Hornsby
premiere 10 June 2003, Sudden Théâtre, Paris

Marion Davies and the Moon is a shifting narrative of dark elements. Film noir, the nouveau roman, the gorgeous ’20s, sea iguanas, hotels in Italy, moments when the world feels like a musical — both wonderfully and awfully …

‘Scrawls of her body across the bed and outside the fields tracked neat like circuit boards. Cars pass from the stack of the dying day, and the buildings blink, threesixtwo windows, lit like the faces of dice.’

‘And just like those songs that seem to sum up everything you ever had to say, and yet say nothing at all.’

L: Cassandre Fiering
M: Mark Downey
Q: Jeffrey Grice
N: Martin Lewis
directed by Adrian Hornsby
lighting by Uri Rubenstein
movement with Mik Kuhlman
produced by Kilometer Zero Theatre Company
film cast: Caroline Filliette, Martin Lewis, Agnes Belkadi, Christophe Oertli, Christele Cervelle, Clara MacBride, Pia Copper, Daniel Crowley, Camille Dubois, Buster Burke, Dario Costa, Rosamond Lamb, Flore Vialet, Hugues Louagie
directed by Adrian Hornsby, camera Jethro Massey
  • 10–15 June 2003, Sudden Théâtre, Paris
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