Written and Directed by Christiane Jatahy

The betwixt and the between – Dusk.

A time unlike the rest of the day, where we relive and remember the day which has gone by before the stillness of the night, leading into a brand-new day. A moment of reflection, dusk is when we account for our sins, and pray for something better. 

Returning the favour, Brazilian director Christiane Jatahy reverses Lars von Trier’s inspiration from the stage to the cinema, back to the world of theatre as they take the framework and troubling re-infection and violent exploration of fascism in contemporary cultures from von Trier’s Dogville – particular its re-emergence in Brazil, and processes it for the stage. 

But the cinema is not shunned from the building, indeed Brechtian technique remains integral as multiple live-feed cameras and pre-recordings stalk the performers onstage as the minute details of expression because immortalised and catapulted into the audience: nowhere to run. Though, at any point, the performers can halt the performance and make it clear the trauma and distress are heightened.

Mercifully not a strictly straightforward adaptation of Dogville, taking the framework and adapting it to a live performance with heavy use of cinematic elements. The townsfolk remain in the form of our performers, who take the shape of the characters, while also portraying themselves, with Philippe Duclos, Vincent Fontannaz, and Delphine Hecquet doing sterling work. When from the audience, Graça, our lynchpin of the show, is plucked from the audience, a stranger and outsider is brought into the fold. Gradually, as furniture is flipped and moved, tasks handed out, the remaining performers slip into their roles as they interact with Graça, for better, and much, much worse. 

What follows is a tough, clever (if at times needlessly complicated) amalgam of the film and new elements which goes to the root of our inability to act, or even recognise, a tyranny or fascism and xenophobia, all set to a richly atmospheric, and hauntingly soul-altering score and sound design from Vitor Araújo and Jean Keraudren.

The indignities which Graça faces through the story topple upon one another, and though the teeth of it pale in comparison to the limits Von Trier pushed, Jathay’s generates sufficient winces and pangs from the audience with the brutality and imagery, though those unfamiliar with the film may become a touch confused at some elements. In part down to the over-reliance and wandering gaze caused by the supertitles and division between live performance and projected video, immersion becomes a touch difficult – even with the extreme occurrences and events onstage.

Truth and the validity of it all are integral to the show – and achieved if one remains observant to the video projections and sleight of hands on the stage as slowly: we come to realise that reality isn’t what it appears. Is it down to the audience’s distaste for the more vile scenes? Or a nice reflection of the media and validity of perceptions, symbolised with Thomas Walgrave’s set design? You’re choice. But though it’s a relevant choice of expression, Dusk never truly answers the simplest of questions: ‘Why’? There’s nothing here which is truly elevated by the move to the stage, especially when so much is reliant on the medium of the film above. 

But the efforts of the cast, and the direction, are what maintain a piqued interest and involvement with the show. Julia Bernat as Graça an absolute staple of the show’s success, the desperation and volatile, though necessary, delivery in the latter moments reclaim the production’s necessity to be staged live. Well-deserving, and technically impressive in elements, its power and intentions win out, clearly, but it can’t be helped that it’s difficult to fend off Dusk’s inability to grip in a manner it intends, the potency is there but achieved in an unexpected route.