“Ubu Président”, or politics undressed by laughter

Scheduled at the Festival OFF d’Avignon 2025 from July 5 to 26, Ubu Président transposes Alfred Jarry’s absurd and corrosive universe into a contemporary musical farce. Adapted by Mohamed Kacimi, directed by Isabelle Strakier and set to the rhythm of Alain Territo’s compositions, this version rethinks the grotesque through the prism of modern political excesses.

“When you’re president, you’ll shit on people”

Ubu Roi becomes Ubu Président and sometimes takes on the traits of a governor we know well. A blend of music and comedy, Mohamed Kacimi’s skilfully modernized text makes the original play accessible to young and old alike. Caricature of our reality or faithful representation of its absurdity? Mother Ubu, played by Carla Strakier, and Father Ubu, Stéphane Muquel, accentuate the burlesque dimension of the play with acting that matches the excessiveness of their characters. Each of them plays on excess, rupture and the ridiculous through a highly effective comedy of gesture: they multiply grimaces, falls, bickering and absurd movements. The show opens with a scene of “reverse feminicide”, in the words of a journalist who has come to film this grotesque quarrel between Mother Ubu and Father Ubu. In all, there are only five actors on stage, yet they give the impression of being many more. Stéphane Barrière, who also plays the piano, Michelle Brûlé on accordion, and Virgile Vaugelade on saxophone take turns embodying a gallery of colorful characters: an ousted president, an eccentric journalist eager for sensationalism, a mayor ready to do anything to win the presidential election… and many more.

It all begins when Père Ubu, a simple penniless citizen, embarks on a rocket-like quest for power as absurd as it is irresistible, driven by the ferocious ambitions of his wife, Mère Ubu: to become president.

“Gotcha!”

Father Ubu and Mother Ubu have decided: they will govern.
Particularly striking are the costumes and make-up, which play a full part in the grotesque aesthetic of Ubu’s universe. They transform the actors in the image of the comedy itself: faces grimaced to the extreme, silhouettes distorted, features outraged – Mother and Father Ubu emerge like two nightmarish cartoon characters, caricatured to the point of absurdity. This visual treatment accentuates the parodic, dehumanized dimension of their characters, reduced to buffoonish archetypes. The set, entirely drawn in cardboard – stove, camera, microphone – reinforces this cartoonish impression.
The modernization of the text, which makes it more contemporary, is not lacking in references to our own political figures and systems, which makes us smile – and all in song! Each actor has several strings to his bow: song, dance, instrument, acting…
Through this burlesque fresco, we witness the rise of Père Ubu, who struggles to express himself without the help of his wife, and his presidential campaign, punctuated by ideas each more absurd than the last: abolition of taxes, reimbursement of gasoline by Social Security, a ban on old age – “that way, no one will complain about working until they’re sixty-five, because no one will be sixty-five”.

“In politics, you must never give people what they want, or they won’t expect anything more from you”.

In Ubu Président, “the people” are us, the audience.

Rich in interaction, the show really makes you feel part of this huge farce. And perhaps we are? This satire of our politics, carried by these five voices, gives us the sensation of observing ourselves – but with humor.

At the heart of this farce, Mother Ubu stands out as the couple’s true force. She’s the one who pushes her husband to run, who blows his ideas, corrects, encourages or manipulates him. She acts from the shadows, but it’s she who holds the reins. Without her, there would be no Ubu President. The result is grotesque, of course: a mediocre president, a tyrant, but a president nonetheless.

Carla Strakier’s figure as an ambitious, strategic, strong-willed woman is aptly portrayed, with her over-the-top performance always under control. Stéphane Muquel, as Père Ubu, forms a perfectly grotesque duet with her.

The other three actors – Stéphane Barrière, Michelle Brûlé and Virgile Vaugelade – impress with their versatility, switching roles, instruments and registers with remarkable precision. It’s they who give the show its boundless energy and perfectly assumed burlesque logic.