If you don’t like naked blond-wigged men crawling all over you, then “Un peu de tendresse, bordel de merde!” by Dave St-Pierre just isn’t your thing. However, if you were rather immune to this kind of audience involvement, like I am, then you’d probably survive the performance with no damage at all and might even enjoy it in the end.
Behind the seemingly bold demonstration of bodily parts and masturbations on a cake (that was a first for me either) Dave St-Pierre is just a lonely sole looking for love. This time portrayed by a woman in black who bullies the dancers (“They’ll do anything if you pay them!”) and mocks the audience (“Would anyone like a cherry?”). But love never comes if you wait too long to take it seriously and suddenly you find yourself sliding naked between the islands of cuddling couples, feeling the cream from the cake going sour in your pussy. Not much of a revelation here, now is it? Going back and forth between the tedious babble of the mixed-gendered crawlers and physically demanding yet caressing choreography, between the attempt to distance and ridicule and fair amount of naivety, the performance leaves you both hating the obvious and secretly admiring the sincerity of it. “Spiegel im Spiegel” by Arvo Pärt is softly playing, naked bodies sliding on a watery floor and suddenly you forget the blond wigs and orgasms on a cake and just want to join them… or anyone.
Behind the seemingly bold demonstration of bodily parts and masturbations on a cake (that was a first for me either) Dave St-Pierre is just a lonely sole looking for love. This time portrayed by a woman in black who bullies the dancers (“They’ll do anything if you pay them!”) and mocks the audience (“Would anyone like a cherry?”). But love never comes if you wait too long to take it seriously and suddenly you find yourself sliding naked between the islands of cuddling couples, feeling the cream from the cake going sour in your pussy. Not much of a revelation here, now is it? Going back and forth between the tedious babble of the mixed-gendered crawlers and physically demanding yet caressing choreography, between the attempt to distance and ridicule and fair amount of naivety, the performance leaves you both hating the obvious and secretly admiring the sincerity of it. “Spiegel im Spiegel” by Arvo Pärt is softly playing, naked bodies sliding on a watery floor and suddenly you forget the blond wigs and orgasms on a cake and just want to join them… or anyone.
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