After the Bible, The Little Prince is the most translated book in the world. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s short, sweet novella has spawned more than 600 translations and counting, the author’s great-nephew Olivier d’Agay tells me. And this surreal story of an aviator who crashes in the desert and meets a small princely boy who has travelled from his own tiny planet is still picking up fans globally. “In Brazil, China, the Middle East,” laughs d’Agay. “Even England.”
The book was first published in 1943 in New York, pilot and writer Saint-Exupéry having fled occupied France. It may be “an ambassador for French culture” as d’Agay puts it, but the innocent wisdom of its central character clearly taps into something universal. Over the years, there have been countless adaptations and tie-ins worldwide – and the latest is a dance-circus show, by choreographer Anne Tournié, which has already toured to 18 cities, from Riyadh to Mumbai to Sydney to Sofia. Its now about to land in London.
In every theatre, there has been a different response. Tournié was surprised how famous the book was in Bulgaria: “The room was packed,” she says. But the liveliest audiences were in Istanbul: “They were applauding before anything happened, warming up the room.” In Luxembourg, people were more restrained: “Heavier, like their sausages,” says composer Terry Truck. And in Saudi Arabia, people cheered at the scene when it rains in the desert.
Co-director Chris Mouron appears on stage to narrate parts of the tale (speaking French, with local translation in surtitles) but the nature of the storytelling, through dance, acrobatics and aerialism, lends itself to crossing international borders. The characters the Little Prince meets along his journey through the universe are all spelled out in their movements: the beautiful Rose he loves is elegantly balletic; a drunkard is lopingly rubber-bodied (they were concerned about that one in non-drinking Saudi Arabia, where the character is cut from the book version, but people laughed); the king draws on courtly classical technique; the conceited man uses show-offy leaps and spins; and the acrobatic lamplighter climbs a Chinese pole suspended in the air.
Marie Jumelin’s projections, meanwhile, conjure up multiple worlds where the prince, with his mop of blond hair and philosophical turn of phrase, meets these deluded characters often consumed by pride, greed or power (it’s a moralistic tale, without doubt), and Truck’s score draws on musical styles from around the globe.
They first tried the show out in Marseille – apparently its audiences are the most brutally honest – and it passed that test. Perhaps that’s because the prince’s gnomic pronouncements (“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye”) are part of the vernacular in France. They had rave reviews in Paris, but somewhat less enthusiastic ones on Broadway, where the show closed three months early.
I tell Mouron that I read the New York Times review. “Very bad,” she laughs and shakes her head. “It’s funny – that’s the only bad critique we had.” She adds that the book was in part a critique of American consumerist culture. “I think Saint-Exupéry was inspired by the materialism he saw in New York.” Critics there found this production too whimsical. “Well, the story’s whimsical,” says Truck. “It’s not a big singing and dancing musical.”
Tournié has made plenty of spectacular shows in the past. Her background is originally in ballet and she has worked with Robert Wilson and Robert Lepage, but recently she’s been creating vast extravaganzas in Las Vegas, Abu Dhabi and Macau, with stunts and acrobatics, big sets and lots of tech. This was a deliberate move away from that scale. “After 10 years of that, I wanted a simple show that was just human,” she says, because the story itself is about coming back to simple, human values.
It’s tricky to capture the particular voice of the book on stage, and there’s a randomness to its strange world – it starts with some dancing sheep, for example. The mood is often melancholy and the show is strongest when it reaches for some emotional heart, themes of loneliness and friendship and our responsibilities to each other (and our planet, too). The message is about caring for the people and the environment around you, tending your own garden as it were, rather than trying to take ownership of the stars – as the “businessman” character does. Which all seems very pertinent for a story written eight decades ago.
The odd bad review is certainly not going to sink The Little Prince. “It’s not a question of culture or generation, it’s just talking to the humanity in people,” says d’Agay of its endurance. “We still have the same questions, the same quest for meaning. Humanity has not changed.”
• The Little Prince is at the Coliseum, London, 12 to 16 March. Lyndsey Winship’s trip was paid for by the producers, Broadway Entertainment Group.
