Three hours without an interval seems like quite an epic theatre experience these days and one for which we must prepare ourselves. Don’t drink before the show, that sort of thing.
Somehow, the unfolding of the narratives of LACRIMA then reveal themselves to be epic as well, in true Brechtian style. With an ensemble of eleven actors plus stage crew we traverse continents and many months of passionate and self-sacrificing craftmanship as we are witness to the closely guarded secret of the design and creation of the wedding dress being commissioned for a fictional Princess of England. The enormous sacrifice of health, both physical and mental, personal relationships and the unbelievable tens of thousands of hours invested by artisans in creating this most beautiful gown of all time warrants the investment of our own powers of extended concentration in a time of nano bites.
It’s a micro experience of the demands for the lace makers of Alençon in Normandy, the embroiderers of Mumbai and the dress makers in the haute couture of Paris.
LACRIMA is the first major premiere for French Vietnamese writer-director Caroline Guiela Nguyen as Artistic Director of Théatre National de Strasbourg, one of France’s six national theatres. Already interested in fashion and clothing as artistic expression, Guiela was inspired by an article about the secrecy surrounding the making of Princess Diana’s wedding dress and haute couture in general.
Her research led her to Alençon and the makers of the celebrated lace of the region, and in particular a woman, Dominique Rousseau who had given up her career to spend an eight-to-ten-year apprenticeship learning the ten steps required to produced rare hand stitched lace at the rate of one square centimetre a day.
From there emerged the narrative for this epic, revolving around a fictional Parisian haute couture fashion house, Maison Beliano, run by Marion (Maud Le Grevellec) in conjunction with her abusive pattern making husband, Julius (Dan Artus) and a dedicated team of tailors who have been granted the commission of making the princess’s dress for her wedding, scheduled to be held in eight months’ time.
The initial euphoria is quickly replaced by the unremitting stress of unrealistic artistic visions and desires and the expectation of dazzling perfection. It’s all about the dress as a history making work of art, but the conflict between the grand artistic vision and practical logistics of construction is central to the tale.
One member of the ensemble, Vasanth Selvam, ironically portrays two opposing characters; one the hysterically demanding fashion designer who is obsessed with his design being art and the other the owner of a Mumbai embroidery business. As the Mumbai embroidery shop owner, he has been tasked with replicating the pattern of the antique lace veil that the Princess will wear for her wedding onto silk organza using 200,000 South Sea Island seed pearls. The idea is that the antique veil, on loan from a museum and being repaired by the lace makers in Alençon, when lifted will reveal the same pattern on the train of the dress, as “if it had imprinted” on the dress.
It’s a glorious artistic vision but the reality is that 200,000 real pearls are going to weigh a lot. Far too much for a strip of silk organza, and so the recommendation is for plastic pearls to be used instead. The Princess says no.
Which makes it such a timeless tale. Suddenly even haute couture fashion house is reduced to ignoring construction logistics and bowing down to the demands of aristocracy and fame, with all involved becoming self-sacrificing minions and vessels for the whims of the princess, a mere voice on the phone in this instance, and her special day.
Abdul, the embroiderer tasked with the pearls for the train sacrifices his eyesight and time with his daughter, working abominable and illegal hours on a project that is doomed anyway.
Marion, the atelier owner keeps fainting from stress and overwork. Her husband, the pattern maker becomes paranoid and devastatingly abusive, accusing Marion of cheating on him in a scene that is horrifying in its portrayal of domestic violence. Their daughter is almost psychotic, causing problems in the atelier studio and on a snow skiing camp, adding to the mounting tensions.
Then the lace makers in Alençon have their subplots concerning potentially inherited mental disorders, a long dead sister and a grandchild in Australia, all while negotiating the restoration of the lace veil and having them, their history (deaf nuns and sign language) and processes (no talking while tatting, not even sighing, sometimes forgetting to breathe) being made into a documentary series.
There’s rather a lot to keep up with and some of these ‘threads’ (pun intended) are left dangling and unsecured at the end. The whole fabric of the production is as complex as the making of the princess’s dress itself. Certainly, we are made acutely aware of each of these self-sacrificing and passionate people being individuals with complex lives, not just worker bees serving the dream of the dress, but we work hard as an audience managing the significance of each interaction.
Early in the production, a dress is being made for their next haute couture collection that is to have 400 handmade flowers carefully placed and spaced on three gauzy layers of the skirt, so that not all is revealed at once. It seems to be a metaphor for the whole production, glimpses, flashes and fleeting reveals under the top layer.
Visually, it’s a feast. Interactive multi-media has become quite normalised in theatre and in LACRIMA it has been used seamlessly and very cleverly. Zoom conversations – some of them very funny, others heartbreaking – are incorporated along with the footage being shot for the Alençon lace making documentary series. There’s even a close-up of a mandatory eye examination being conducted with the head embroiderer, Abdul.
Video specialist Jérémie Scheilder, with designer Alice Duchange, have placed video cameras all around the stage, incorporating them into the set as computers and other devices, allowing us to be taken multiple places like atelier rooms, homes and other countries, experience close ups like the above mentioned eye examination and have a much more intimate relationship with each of the various characters that the ensemble portray, as well as supporting images of lace and haute couture fashion design features.
There is also an evocative soundtrack created by Antoine Richard and Thibaut Farineau, warning us of and supporting times of high tension and despair.
Managed the three hours, no problem. It’s a beautiful and multi layered production and if you have even a passing interest in clothes and high fashion, then you will be enthralled. As a fabric and sewing afficionado, I was grateful for the researched insight and carefully constructed behind the scenes experience. It’s a fabulous topic.
The production is presented with subtitles as it is mainly in French with some English and Tamil.
LACRIMA is presented by Caroline Guiela Ngyuen & Théâtre National de Strasbourg. It runs to 25 January at Roslyn Packer Theatre as part of Sydney Festival, 22 Hickson Rd, Walsh Bay NSW 2000.
It then runs 6 – 10 February as part of Perth Festival.
Production photography by Wendell Teodoroi
Tickets
Sydney: https://www.sydneyfestival.org.au/events/lacrima
Tickets
Perth: https://www.perthfestival.com.au/program/season-2026/lacrima
Socials: https://www.instagram.com/sydney_festival/ and https://www.instagram.com/caroline_guiela_nguyen/
