"Humor is a wagon: it allows you to express the unattainable without shocking": Caroline Vigneaux transforms her wounds into laughter in In Vigneaux Veritas

The stage is her courtroom, laughter her best weapon. In Vigneaux Veritas is not a simple one-woman show: it's a collective truth session, where we laugh as much as we recognize ourselves, to be seen at the Galli theater, in Sanary-sur-Mer, this Tuesday, May 13, and at Anthéa, in Antibes, Thursday, May 15 and Friday, May 16. Between two bursts of laughter, she throws truths like throwing stones into a pond. After having dynamited the last Molières ceremony with her caustic humor, the one who dared to address Rachida Dati informally in the middle of the ceremony has only one goal: to make people laugh despite everything. The opportunity to discover how this tightrope walker of humor transforms trauma into collective catharsis.

In In Vigneaux Veritas , you address intimate and personal themes. Why did you choose to share them now?

I'm at the top of the mountain. Before, on the way up, we don't dare say everything for fear of judgment. After, on the way down... we don't remember it! Now, I have access to both generations, so it's time to create a bond by telling the truth. Some are light, like the cornflakes invented by a doctor as a medicine to combat masturbation, and others are heavier, like the death of my father and the rape and two sexual assaults I experienced. I spoke about it to my mother and my sons before the premiere, so they wouldn't find out on stage. But I want it to make people laugh, because laughing about it is taking back power.

How do you find the balance between light and serious subjects?

It's a writing project that took me two years. To talk about rape without falling into pathos and losing the audience, you need breathing space, light subjects. Female ejaculation, for example, I talk about it as an absurd taboo. One day, my mother was in the audience and she laughed. I would never have brought up this subject at the table on a Sunday lunchtime. Humor is a wagon: it allows you to express the unattainable without shocking.

This year, you were the host of the Molières ceremony for the second time. How different is it from a performance?

Normally, I'm on stage to make my audience laugh. Here, I'm on stage to present awards, congratulate those who have it, try to console with humor those who don't, and there are a lot of them. We mustn't forget that the room, as the ceremony goes on, fills with losers and people who are grumpy. The challenge is to make them laugh despite everything. Culture needs subsidies, but above all it needs spectators who get up off the sofas to go see live performances. The Molières are a showcase that should make people want to go to the theater.

You have often addressed women's issues. How do you see the evolution of feminism today?

Until very recently, I was a very optimistic feminist. But right now, my optimism is taking a hit. Sometimes I have to cut myself off from the news and the reality of the world to avoid sinking into a huge anxiety attack. We're all a bit breathless in the face of what's happening, and I think humor is good for us. We're all in the same room, we don't know each other, but we're laughing together, and sisterhood is something essential to me.

What are your plans after this tour?

I decided to rewrite Corneille's Le Cid , entirely in alexandrine verse and in today's language, to encourage teenagers to discover classical theatre and so that the parents who accompany them don't get bored. The goal is to introduce the magnificent verses of Pierre Corneille; I left many of them and I also rewrote some. It's quite educational; it allows you to learn what an alexandrine is, a stanza, or even to understand where the play comes from, but all while having fun!

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Tuesday, May 13th at the Galli Theater in Sanary-sur-Mer, and Thursday, May 15th and Friday, May 16th at Anthéa in Antibes. Prices: from 13 to 42 euros.