Marc-Henri Boisse

In his solitude, a man dreams, imagines, fumbles, eructs. In front of his computer, he writing, he sends e-mails, like bottles at the sea. Robinson, he tries to escape, not from a deserted island, but a world of appearances, deserted, empty, inconsistent, mirage of a mirage.

An actress rehearses behind closed doors scenes from the trial of Joan of Arc, confronted with the view that spectators have character.

Essay on the attacks of September 11, 2001.

Inspired by the Cantat-Trintignant drama.

An interrogation on the real identity of each one.