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From July 5 to 23, the boundlessly talented Cynthya Karam and Fouad Yammine will be gracing the stage of Le Monnot Theatre to portray an old couple living their love in a cottage within a Lebanese setting. Ghammid Ein, Fattih Ein (or In The Blink of an Eye) is a play by Karim Chebli and Sarah Abdo.
The reason women give birth in pain amid so much love is probably to provide witness to the arrival of a unique child, a prodigy, who will narrate the lives of those who preceded them. That is also probably the reason we do theatre. So that eyes may see, through the actors’ bodies, the lives that came before them, beyond the whiteness of the beard and the ardor of a former fighter who sang hymns to a country and believed in a noble cause exemplified by a resilient and eternal Lebanon.
Of these promises, Waad ya Lebnan, only those of actors remain, here and now, as ephemeral as the tears in their eyes, when the audience rises in unanimous ovation, revived by shared memories and overlooked lives. Of these songs of resistance, only the embraces of the actors remain, as they bow. And the “dream” becomes reality.
In the Blink of an Eye is a countdown. A life song that transcends the death drive.
The text is simple, unpretentious, narrative and entertaining. It moves us in its non-verbal expressions; the unsaid words, the passage of time expressed through embraces that occur at key moments in a couple’s journey, and the intense bitterness of a stolen kiss.
The plot does not follow a classic scheme but offers us a twist. Did the stories we express ever exist? Would walls talk? Who would tell of the love of hot nights and the silences of cold mornings, when everything is over? Who will be the last witness when everything is swept away by the cold wars of life as a couple, by bombshells or by the eruption of a war? Winks or lives answer each other.
The scenography is punctuated by this “empty space” that limits the actors’ acting area, enclosing them in a constant self-questioning claustrophobia. The story of one life among thousands unfolds in a setting made of movable wooden frames and basic elements of typical houses.
Far from the musical heels she wore for Chicago, which will be performed again at the Beiteddine International Festival, Karam, with her hunched back and gray hair with curlers, is seen in slippers, representing her character with a nod to the frivolous fringe of youth. She portrays a woman who bears the heavy burden of love, in all its lightness of being.
She portrays the friend, the fiancee, the sister, the wife, the potential mother and the actual mother. Faithful to little daily rituals, she worships her couple as she worships the holy virgin, in her own way, like a prayer, like a crossword puzzle. She represents all women. She plays and loves on stage, investing her laughs in her endearing, strong and vulnerable character. What does she hide behind so many smiles? We cling to her smiles and words. Karam is a liberated actress. She effortlessly transforms from one role to another, with no taboos, no barriers and no second thoughts. She performs her characters in a very convincing way.
For his part, Yammine emanates a powerful presence. As a writer, performer and adapter of plays, he performs his roles with unwavering authenticity, as he merges with the stage and is found in his element. The old man who settles at the end of the dream is none other than the young and powerful fighter who defies death head-on. His humanity is almost palpable, within his paper house and in the sparkling eyes of the woman he loves. When we laugh, we do not ask whether the words uttered are the fruit of improvisation or the product of a character that Yammine pushes to the ultimate limits of truth.
The synergy between the two actors goes beyond the stage. They are two whole human beings, passionate about conveying human experiences. They are two raw individuals, like every Lebanese or exiled person – or even a person in a state of internal exile. They interact in front of an audience entrapped in collective memory, eager for lost memories, trying to remember repressed moments to the sound of bombs or the immutable explosion of August 4… In this affecting, poignant, endearing chant of old age, nothing is lost, especially not the love of a lifetime… Everything remains, except for one dimension: the human touch.
Marie-Christine Tayah
Instagram: @mariechristine.tayah
