Over there is a dining table without any cake on it. The owner's corpse is in the bedroom. The shadow is on the wall. Eight mouths are wide open for eating. Public clamor can widely confound right with wrong. One has an affair with another. One is not a real child of the other. Who is the real father? Who eats whom? Before a cake is brought on the table, eight mouths contend in beauty and fascination to see which one can get the large cake coated in butter. Mouths work with effort to reveal the truth. Finally, who dies under wheels of the tour coach passing by?
Crazily adapted by François Ozon's Eight Femmes, this play makes gender ambiguous, has brilliant clothing and uses magic language to match tango electronic music. This is a bloody fresh-red comedy in the black theater mode.