How do we perceive space when we live in it, understand it, and experience it? This is the question posed by French sociologist and philosopher Henri Lefebvre in The Production of Space (1975). Lefebvre proposed three dimensions of space: spatial practice (the physical space we inhabit), representations of space (our conceptual understanding of space, such as through theatre), and representational space (the space of lived experience and imagination). These spatial theories came to mind as I watched the Chinese theatre play “L’histoire d’un Accident” at the Festival Off Avignon 2025.
The play is arguably one of the most conceptually intricate and intellectually provocative plays at the 2025 Avignon Festival. It was directed by Feng Lu, who is widely regarded as one of China’s most talented emerging theatre directors. The production centers on three performers, playing actors within the play, who are themselves staging a performance at Avignon. Their interactions blur the lines between onstage performance and backstage conflict, creating a layered theatrical structure. I first encountered Feng Lu’s work in 2024 when his play “Apple Tree” was staged at the National Theatre of China. This time, he reveals a different dimension of his creative language, one that resonates strongly with Lefebvre’s theory of spatial production. In “L’histoire d’un Accident”, Feng Lu constructs a dynamic structure of space that unfolds on stage, beyond the stage, and outside the conventional boundaries of theatre.
On Stage
The play begins with two male performers walking across the stage, establishing a conventional fourth wall between audience and performers. Their faces are painted white, evoking ambiguity between ritualistic performance and realistic performance. They soon sit within a rectangular area outlined by visible tape on the floor. While the taped border is clearly seen by the audience, its purpose is initially unclear. As the performance continues, this area is revealed to signify the backstage. When the actors perform outside the taped boundary, they speak in soliloquy; within it, they engage in dialogues that simulate behind-the-scenes interactions. This spatial distinction is particularly striking when the characters ironically comment that “attending such a theatre festival is boring.” In this moment, the performance extends beyond the stage into the actual context of the Avignon festival.
Outside the Stage
The boundary between theatrical and real-world space is further challenged by the entrance of a new character who appears to be a late audience member. At first, she is perceived as a genuine spectator, entering silently and sitting in the auditorium without drawing attention. However, she soon begins speaking loudly and critically, revealing her role as part of the performance. This creates a moment of spatial ambiguity. The character interacts with both the onstage performers and the actual audience, becoming a liminal figure who mediates between fictional and real spaces. Her presence challenges the audience’s perception and blurs the divide between theatrical illusion and lived experience.
Beyond the Stage
The central narrative then unfolds: the three characters are staging a play within the context of the Avignon festival. Their inner performance parodies a melodramatic plot familiar in Chinese popular culture. A bride is murdered on her wedding day and reincarnates four times to investigate whether the murderer is her ex-boyfriend, father, fiancé, or stepmother. Rather than presenting this story in a linear manner, Feng Lu deconstructs it through parody and fragmentation. This self-awareness critiques the oversaturation of “rebirth and revenge” narratives in Chinese television, film, and vertical short-form dramas such as those found on TikTok. The twist that the murderer is the stage manager, which adds another layer of spatial complexity. A translucent white curtain is used to distinguish between meta-theatrical discussion and the fictional story world along with the deep ambiguity.
Experiencing the Ambiguous Spaces
After the performance, many audience members may still be unsure whether the supposed latecomer was part of the play or uncertain about the storyline’s resolution. But this ambiguity is not a flaw, it is central to the theatrical experience. As Lefebvre reminds us, space is not always fixed or clear. Ambiguity is part of how we inhabit and feel space. It exists on stage, within parody, and in the blurred boundaries of layered narratives. In L’histoire d’un Accident, ambiguity becomes a strategy that engages the audience in a more profound spatial and emotional way. Feng Lu’s theatre does not stay confined to the stage; it follows us beyond the auditorium, inviting us to reflect on the unstable spaces we occupy in life and art.
This post was written by the author in their personal capacity.The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of The Theatre Times, their staff or collaborators.
This post was written by Xunnan Li.
The views expressed here belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect our views and opinions.
