Sauce

During a party, four childhood friends set themselves the challenge of breaking into a television and audiovisual production studio, where many programmes are recorded. But their break-in goes wrong and the four members of the gang are forced to remain holed up inside.

For many years, they told each other stories too. At the local fast-food restaurant, when they were young and dreamt of better and bigger things. Then later on, they realised that everyone bent the truth a little. They also realised that, very often, their stories were stolen from them, or that certain people would help themselves to them along the way, making them say anything and everything as long as it served the interests of various industries. In the end, those who had promised to give them a voice denied them the right to be who they really were, whilst at the same time discarding the very stories they had so readily exploited.

But that evening, they decided they would never let themselves be pushed around again and would take back control.

Our television programmes, our theatres, all our institutions seem increasingly rosy, vowing to defend our voices. The play asks whether we are certain of what is being told there. Whether we are still the narrators of our own stories, whether they are interchangeable, replaceable, whether they are not simply used and then discarded. And whether, in the end, we are still the ones who hold them.

Because that’s what it’s all about: protecting our stories without being devoured, and no longer letting anyone tell them for us or use them over and over again.

Above all, SAUCE is about cost ! The price we have to pay. The price we're asked to pay just to be heard.