In-I, intimate energies
Interview by Rosita Boisseau

The coming together of actress Juliette Binoche and choreographer Akram Khan is like a minor miracle: the body of theatre (hers) and the body of dance (his) meet and invent In-I, a subtly written performance that sketches out an explosive, intimate space. Far from the posing of dancer and actress, In-I softly murmurs an unforgettable old refrain: “God only knows what I’d be without you.”

In-I is a bit of a “moment of madness”. What made you do it?
Juliette Binoche: It’s an attempt at deep transformation, at exploring unknown zones. The madness is in the transgression and the disobedience in relation to a “normal” career path. At the age of 44, rather than go on devoting myself to theatre, I am taking up dance, which I’ve never done before. What I wanted to do in this show is talk about the emotions, about a necessary place for letting go. In-I is a way of attaining another kind of self-knowledge.

Akram Khan, what is it that you find rewarding about working with a “non-dancer”?
Akram Khan: I’ve always thought that a blessing can turn into a curse, and vice versa. Just as life ends with death, so death is possi-ble only because of life. It’s the same process with knowledge. A dancer is constituted by the knowledge of his masters, which can be his prison. An untrained body, however, is like a blank canvas. So there’s something exciting about discovering this kind of performer.

Love is at the centre of this pas de deux. Is it an attempt to elucidate that feeling?
J. B.: Every evening, I hope that when I go on stage I’ll be filled with this need to approach the other – in this case, a man, that living pole which begins to attract us even in childhood; this attraction compels us to look at things in a different way. We are carried away by emotions (jealousy, fear?) and it takes time for them to transform us.

Juliette Binoche, you have a unique way of approaching the stage. It’s theatrical, but there’s movement in it too. I’m thinking of that rather crude toilet scene when you evoke the way men lift up the toilet seat and women don’t, complete with all the details we needn’t mention.
J. B.: That scene was inspired by my father, who was a mime. When I was a child, other mimes were always stopping by and I used to imitate them. But it was Chaplin, whom I met when I was nine, that I was thinking of there. That was a revelation to me and I really enjoy alluding to it in the show.
A. K.: I love Juliette’s vulnerability. That’s her greatest quality. From childhood on, we humans try to build walls in order to hide our weaknesses. Juliette builds walls, but only to destroy them and reveal who she is.

What was your method for working together?
J. B.: On the first day, Akram suggested that I follow his choreography. In the evening, I told him that this wasn’t what I wanted. I suggested that we improvise, and the show gradually took shape. Only one of the sequences is choreographed by Akram – the first, in which I see a man with his back to me and ask him if he wants to live with me.
A. K.: Inside adults there is always the body of a child: it is hidden, forgotten, controlled. I believe that this child’s body has greater creative power, the ability to be more honest in its daring. Improvising is the most organic way of reaching this childhood of the body.

How did the texts you both wrote find their way into the show?
J. B.: We were trying for something personal, maybe too personal. So we had to invent our technique. We used two texts about traumatic moments in our lives. This is the first time I’ve used my own words in a show.
A. K.: These texts are based on our experience of betrayal. It was important to dare to explore our personal experiences. That was the only way to make this piece legitimate.

Do you feel that you both had to make similar efforts to reach an understanding?
J. B.: Akram had to unmake in order to make, to break down the physical edifice of his dance in order to move towards something
else. I didn’t unmake anything. We needed to be very patient with each other.
A. K.: It’s like a snake sloughing off its skin. Of course, you can never get rid of your past, your history or your culture by just pressing a button, but you can keep them at a distance.

From what you say, the show sounds like a profound personal experience.
J. B.: Yes, it does touch on something intimate, almost cellular, and answers some important questions. In fact, during this period I worked with a Chinese qigong master. Thanks to him, I was able to develop an awareness of my body’s energy. How does one trust one’s energy? You have to find a connection to your body, and for me that’s what dance is. My programme is to experience each performance as a marriage of energy and emotion.

The set is by artist Anish Kapoor. How did you go about working with him?
A. K.: Working with Anish is always a great experience! He’s one of the few people that I would really call an “artist”. When we start, everything is open: we talk. He comes to rehearsals. Ideas emerge. Ideas about barriers, obstacles. And so this wall grew up, an emanation of the three of us at work. Anish worked with Michael Hulls, who’s a wizard with light, so that the wall was made real simply as a result of the lighting.