Small Wonder: The Seattle Star reviews La Mélancolie des dragons Sep 14, 2015
According to some developmental psychologists, children of a certain age do not distinguish between internal fantasy and external reality. Adults find this quaint. As adults, it is their duty to distinguish such things. This is fantasy. This is reality. You’re being unrealistic. It’s only a dream. When are you going to grow up and see?
This is why adults are insufferable. They think they are so knowledgeable, so wise, so certain. But this certainty is bunk. Every single moment of their lives tells them so. Adults can hardly predict what they themselves are going to do in any given human situation, yet claim they can be “realistic” about human psychology. They spend a third of their lives sleeping and no one has the faintest idea why. All the advances of science and technology about which they are so smug still boil down to the reality that the “human bean” cannot account for even the existence of about 90% of the physical universe itself, much less the nonphysical universe. If they had any sense, adults would stop before these facts and behold the world in wonder.
Such wonder is, unfortunately, in short supply in the world of adults and adult artists are no exception. And that is why the theater of adults is insufferable. Pat answers to trite “problems.” Bogus naturalism. Stereotyped discussions. Demands of what must happen. Action predicated on knowing already what’s going to happen. All wonder, all joy, all mystery of life, absent.
And then a piece of theater like Phillipe Quesne’s La Mélancolie des dragons stumbles into town, and the fog lifts...