Los figurantes

In her first foray into theater, Delphine de Vigan places us at the heart of a film shoot, shifting her gaze to those who inhabit the lowest rung of the industry: the extras. Anonymous bodies that will ultimately be nothing more than a blurred shadow, yet spend hours waiting and enduring all kinds of discomfort without anyone paying them any attention. Bodies that, despite everything, are essential to lend realism and verisimilitude to fiction. Orso, Cécile, Bruno, Joyce, and Nora are a group of regular extras from all kinds of films, awaiting directions. In the interminable waits between takes, they kill time sharing anecdotes, submit to the absurd routine of costume changes, and face the certainty that, when their moment to appear on screen finally arrives, perhaps no one will even notice them. Little by little, the masks fall away, revealing more intimate confessions: Cécile's weariness after years working in a hospital, Bruno's need for belonging, Nora's anger at a system that relegates her even when she's performing, Joyce's desire to be seen for just a moment, Orso's insecurity… The scenes, which oscillate between the comical and the melancholic, reveal a precarious ecosystem: abusive schedules, endless auditions, and an unbridgeable hierarchical divide between the stars and the unknowns.