I hope that's the int'l sign for more ketchup?

Since my arrival, I have seen his cakey white face on posters all over town. Leering out at me, “What are you doing here?” “Ooooh, that does make you look fat!” “Can you help me get out of this invisible box?”

Marcel Marceau, the famous mime everyone thought had died decades ago, is touring France with a new show and was in Caen last night. As much as I didn’t want to pay anything more than what loose change I had in my pocket to see a mime, it was Marcel Marceau: the mime. At 83, the man of silence is still going strong. His stage show was something to behold. Granted, it was still a guy in whiteface not talking in front of a room full of people (completely sold out). But he projected an amazing amount of energy and any physical comedy he can no longer include in his show, was replaced by skill only found in the most expert of performers. The control he exhibited over his body and expressions was striking, and, after a while, one became completely enraptured with the “scenes” going on onstage, and forgot about the single performer. This was humor without politics or sex, an acute study of the both the human body and how it is used, and a celebration of one of France’s most beloved performers once again making the rounds. The spectacle was followed by a 10 minute standing ovation that brought tears to the eyes of both the mime and his adoring, cheering audience.

Nothing particularly breathtaking about the show stands out in my mind—only hours later, but I will forever remember that I saw Marcel Mar-fucking-Ceau live in France.