LIEFDESVERKLARING (voor altijd)

They are in the corner of the stage, the four theater stars. They greet the incoming audience in a friendly and curious way, as if we were old friends. It's a disarming image, how they stand there, slightly bent over, tense but eager to begin. As if they never lost the feeling of their very first theater performance, the adrenaline, the nerves, the feeling that everything is at stake.

Four years ago, choreographer Nicole Beutler and author Magne van den Berg made Love Declaration, a mirror image adaptation of Peter Handke's Publikumsbeschimp-fung. Where in the original from 1966 the audience was fired at all kinds of accusations, reproaches and curses for a long period of time, the young actors paid tribute to the audience in Declaration of Love. The power of the performance lay in the youthful open-mindedness of the actors and the clever text, which indirectly praised the fleeting beauty of the theatre, that strange place between reality and fiction where reality, which is always nagging for attention, briefly becomes collective. suspended.

The latter is also central to the spiritual successor Declaration of Love (forever). The big difference with the earlier performance, however, is that there are no adolescents on stage here, but seasoned veterans, all four of whom have been active in the theater for decades. The text is written in the past tense ('you wanted to be touched / you wanted to listen / and we mercilessly held up mirrors to you'), which gives the whole a melancholic tone: here we do not look to the future with young eyes. but looking back on a rich and eventful theater past.

Another stark contrast to the original is that the actors remain strong individuals. It cannot be otherwise with such unique performers as Marien Jongewaard, René van 't Hof, Cas Enklaar and Maureen Teeuwen: their completely individual playing style creates an interesting tension compared to a text composed as a joint monologue. The comical, almost clownish silent playing of Van 't Hof, the supported repertory style of Enklaar, the angular directness of Teeuwen, the punk anarchism of Jongewaard - they always bubble up between the seams of the tight basic structure.

The stubbornness of the actors leads to some of the most beautiful scenes. Slowly, reproaches towards the audience creep into the text. 'You didn't look/ you looked away', says Jongewaard, and, Van 't Hof must say, 'that hurt'. That pain, the fear of rejection or obscurity that haunts every artist throughout his life, is the dark side of the eternal gratitude that is (forever) showered on the public in Declaration of Love; the unequal relationship between artist and public perhaps makes true disinterestedness impossible.

And yet – there is also beauty in that interdependence. In one of the closing scenes, the fragility of the pact between players and spectators is emphasized: how we all make it possible together, 'you there, and we here'. The realization that theater is above all a vulnerable attempt at an encounter, makes this declaration of love clear.

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For those who have a first-row trauma, Declaration of Love (forever) is good therapy. Four actors shamelessly put their spectators on a pedestal.

Thanks for sitting there,” they flatter. The compliments get more and more awkward the closer they get. “I say yes to you,” whispers Marien Jongewaard to a lady.

More than a hymn to the audience, Declaration of Love is an ode to theatre: the interaction between player and viewer, the moment when telephones are switched off and we let a performance wash over us.

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"This theatrical ode to the audience is initially a tinglingly fresh eye-opener that playfully shifts the perspective. But after a while it starts to itch a bit because there is no friction whatsoever. It doesn't rub anywhere. Although there is contact between players and au-dience, it is just too little and too safe to actually have any effect. The audience hangs back too comfortably in the chairs for that, listening obediently to what is often a repeti-tion of moves at a given moment.

It is that the affection is indeed mutual and the love runs deep for these four wonderful actors who have always (again) told us their stories in all their naked vulnerability and with all their talent, entertained, moved and shocked us. That is why we now listen to them again and hesitantly accept their pats on the back. But it turns out to be a relation-ship that really thrives best from silent admiration."

"We are like beaten children in a way, all of us. We no longer hide behind decency and conventions together, but are, individually, always armored. Not only for what is shown to us in art. It is in our whole culture: we have to say what comes to our mind, otherwise we are not fair And that is why this piece touches on Declaration of Love (forever) It is a statement of love that through language, tone and body also asks what we actually achieved since radical openness became the credo."

"On stage are Cas Enklaar, René van 't Hoff, Marien Jongewaard and Maureen Teeuwen*: four bodies who have endured those fifty years straight-forward. And four actors who have played a large part of the history of epitomize the theater in this country.They stand in suits, theater costumes or half-naked in front of a thin canvas in an unmerciful light and scribble on the armor with determined sweet words from Magne van den Berg and a gentle, earthy physicality from Nicole Beutler of their audience. It comes between your shield plates, when someone looks you in the eye and says they can't do without you in their life. Because if no one is looking, there's no playing."

"At a time when everyone is asking everyone to arm themselves, the ability to disarm inspires awe. No blow? It's disruptive."

Open Four acclaimed actors declare the audience, that coughing, calling, talking audience, the unconditional love **** configuration settings

from: Volkskrant, by Karin Veraart
November 8, 2018
"If That Ain't Love"

"A declaration of love (forever) to Maureen Teeuwen, Cas Enklaar, Marien Jonge-waard and René van 't Hof, who play a performance entitled Declaration of Love (forever) in which they examine their relationship with the audience and come to the conclusion that it is love – that it must be love (...) Because they love the profession and the audience that is an irrevocable part of it, because they want to show how involved we are, with each other. that it is good to thank each other for that. Hereby."

"It is a pleasure to see this foursome moving across the stage, each referring to his or her own background at a certain moment: Van 't Hof in costume from Carver's acclaimed performance Café Lehmitz, Enklaar in a black dress, Teeuwen in Discordian outfits and Jongewaard as Jongewaard with a bare torso and a leather jacket. Alternately hilarious and deadly serious, they bring an ode to an oeuvre and an ode to the profession, devotedly led by Beutler and Van den Berg."

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