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A paidic aesthetic: an analysis of games in the ludic pedagogy of Philippe

Gaulier

Lynne Kendrick

Keywords: Gaulier, play theory, games, pleasure, ludic dialectic

Philippe Gaulier was invited by the Arts Council of Great Britain to relocate his

school, l’École Philippe Gaulier, from Paris to London in 1991 and this was the

beginning of his influential eleven year residency in the UK. Previously a student of,

and teacher with Lecoq, Gaulier sought to establish his own approach to performer

training by founding his school in Paris, with Monika Pagneux in 1980. The

inauguration of his pedagogy in the UK was driven as much by his affection for the

English, ‘finding their eccentricities a source of much pleasure,’ (Murray 2010, p. 221)

furthermore this was the moment when Gaulier decided to teach in English, a crucial

decision that meant his performer training was accessible to those who couldn’t

translate or afford to travel. Gaulier’s anglicised École continued to attract an

international cohort yet increased its ratio of UK based students and, as a

consequence, a number of graduates formed international companies that were not

only incorporated in the UK but made their creative home here. The impact of

Gaulier’s performer training is significant and numerous participants have permeated

the industry. 1 For example his most prized graduate, Sacha Baron Cohen, frequently

mistaken as a method actor, has demonstrated how Gaulier’s particular approach to

clown can amuse, dupe and fool to a considerable and popular extent in mainstream

entertainment. Gaulier’s techniques also emerge in UK university drama programmes

and have even influenced actor training. This is because his technique appears

readily attainable, as it is based entirely on play.

1
Examples include directors Kristine Landon-Smith and Cal McCrystal and numerous actors including Helena
Bonham Carter who, according to Cavendish spent ‘six months training with Gaulier in the early 1990s, when she
was already famous, which is as good a testament as any to the kind of esteem in which [Gaulier] is held by actors.’
(Cavendish 2001, p. 19)

1
Everyone can play. Everyone knows how to play. It’s is an accessible activity which

doesn’t appear to require any specialist skill or acting technique. Play is immediate,

its results can be instantaneous and performance can easily be conjured from the

playful engagement in a game in a fraction of the time that more complex actor

training techniques demand. What’s more, play is a pleasurable experience. Indeed

Gaulier insists that all play must be engaged in with pleasure – demonstrably so. His

performance aesthetic is best described as a form of pleasurable play. Worsley’s

account of her experience with Gaulier demonstrates the intrinsic function of pleasure

in his training:

Even in tragedy there needs to be a certain joy in the performance of

it. It might sound basic but it is not generally taught as such and
perhaps as a consequence it is surprisingly rare to find real pleasure
in the theatre’ (Worsley 2002, p. 85).

However, the experience of training with Gaulier can be the opposite. His technique

is more complex and confounding than his use of play suggests. It is ludic, by this I

mean it is a highly complex combination of playing and engaging in games from

which a particular type of performance aesthetic emerges – one which Baron

Cohen’s performances epitomise. Moreover, Gaulier’s own pedagogical approach is

a ludic interplay between playfulness and brutality. His witty rebuttals range from the

cursory dismissal of the player as simply ‘boring’ to the more damning threat of a ‘trip

to Iraq.’ Gaulier’s pedagogy can be a form of combat with the performer, by his own

admission when he teaches, he boxes:

An uppercut on the face … a right hook in the gums of will,

determination, resolution and violation. A smack in the stomach of
the cheap comic, a left hook to the thorax for someone who thinks
they’re funny before they really are and three pile drivers for
conventional ideas. (Gaulier 2007, p. 290)

2
Despite Gaulier’s use of the familiar territory of play – and all its dangerous as well as

pleasurable possibilities – there is little understanding of how the ludic functions in

Gaulier’s training, specifically how his adaptations of play produce his performance

aesthetic. This is curious considering how ubiquitous play is in the conservatoire and

the academy. The practices of play are commonplace in actor training, as the warm-

up or the group bonding exercise, play is predominantly used as a precursor to

performance. Moreover, theories of play frequently appear in academic analysis of

performance, for instance play was expedient in broadening the territories of

Performance Studies.2 However, save Clive Barker’s use of games to demonstrate a

strategic ‘scientific basis’ (McCaw 2007, p. 337) for actor training, there is little to no

research into how play functions in the training for, and therefore the construction of,

an acted performance. Such lack of practical analysis has come to the attention of

play theorists; in 2001 Sutton-Smith raised the question ‘where is the appropriate

ludic performance theory? (Sutton-Smith 2001, p. 192). Indeed from my experience

of training with Gaulier, it was clear that his use of play was integral to the performing

aesthetic it produced, though he never articulated what this ludic productivity might

be. This is largely because, like Lecoq, Gaulier resists the identification of any

expounded ‘method’. However, could concepts of the ludic illuminate what the

processes of play are in Gaulier’s technique; could play theory reveal the constructs

of this ludic performance?

During my research into Gaulier’s training I was initially frustrated by the abstruse

ludic terminology. The ubiquity of the mutable terms play, playing, pleasure and

game obscured the complexity of Gaulier’s pedagogical approach and hindered

analysis of the actual techniques. Indeed, Gaulier’s own epigrammatic rhetoric –

‘theatre is as serious as a child’s game,’ (Gaulier 2009) – obfuscates the real

2
For instance theories of play provide a rational for Schechner’s incorporation of everyday acts as performance.

3
difficulty of his training. To test a possible ludic performance theory I sought a more

precise terminology. This article details the theoretical terminology I’ve adopted and

shows how this can be applied to analyse games and the function of play in Gaulier’s

ludic pedagogy. I will also demonstrate how Gaulier’s training produces a particular

type of performance which is playful, exuberant and imbued with pleasure, one which

I term paidic. I shall refer to my own documentation of Gaulier’s Taller Clown3 in

Barcelona, September 2008.

For Gaulier acting is play, performers are players and theatre is their game. And it is

this that distinguishes his approach from Lecoq’s. Recently Murray has drawn

attention to the affiliated ‘condition’ (Murray op.cit. p. 222), of play in the related

pedagogies of Lecoq, Gaulier and Pagneux in order to tease out the different

methodological function of this in their respective performer training processes. For

instance Lecoq’s play is pragmatic, a route towards or the ‘driving motors’ (ibid., p.

223), of the act of performing. Whereas Murray hints that play is more intrinsic to

Gaulier’s pedagogy and perhaps more excessive – ‘on a different register’ (ibid., p.

224) – than Lecoq’s. I would argue that the distinction between Gaulier and Lecoq’s

use of play is more significant. As John Wright has pointed out, ‘Gaulier works with

play for the same reason that Lecoq works with movement’ (Wright 1990, p. 9). The

essential difference is that for Gaulier, play is the training and the forum for this is the

game. All the processes of making theatre – whether improvising, writing, directing,

singing, or just playing – must be derived from play. Indeed Gaulier insists that

‘Everything is a game. Everything is written from the game, everything is written

through the game.’4 For this reason his École commences with a four week course

3
The Catalan for ‘Clown Workshop’
4
From my own documentation of Gaulier’s training, September 2008 as are all subsequent quotations from Gaulier
unless footnoted otherwise. Gaulier’s ‘English’ is purposefully pigeon, uttered with an augmented French accent, all a
part of his playful repartee with his trainee performers. For this reason some of the references here are transcribed
verbatim.

4
entirely devoted to playing, entitled Le Jeu. The literal translation of this is ‘the play’,

though Murray suggests that Gaulier’s use of the term implies ‘playfulness’ (Murray

2003, p. 65), the focus being on the qualities of playing particular to Gaulier’s

aesthetic, only achieved by immersion in a series of repeated, extended, durational

games.

A common game used to launch Le Jeu is a static version of Tag, a deceptively

simple game that is surprisingly difficult in its execution. This game involves a whole

group which, by a process of elimination, is reduced to a single victor (along with

Gaulier, who conducts the game and never gets it wrong). The game is played in a

circle, and the rules are thus: if the player is tagged they must say the name of

another player in the game; if they hear their name called they must tag another, and

so on. This is a swift game and players must respond immediately to either stimulus,

they can only tag or call on players who are participating – those ruled out of the

game do not count. Grounds for elimination include: failure to adhere to the rules of

the game; hesitation; repeated tagging or consecutive calling of names; saying the

name of someone not in the room (this is a frequent and baffling occurrence) and/or

not articulating a name clearly enough for the recipient to respond effectively.

Gaulier’s instructions for the game are cursory and not as detailed as described here.

He will declare the basic rules of the game, but will not describe the experience of its

execution. At this early stage in the training it is apparent that Gaulier’s pedagogy is

typified by what is not said – what is withheld – as much as by the basic, but

bombastic, assertion of the rules of the game. When this version of tag is first played,

a large proportion of players are usually dismissed fairly rapidly as they grapple with

its unexpected complexity.

5
Figure 1, a. (l to r) Ferran Aixalà, Pedro Mayor de Frias, Philippe Gaulier, Eva
Permanyer, Tatiana da Silveira, Beatrice Donze. Figure 1, b. (l to r) Francesca
Martello, Miguel Chimeno, Carmen Pieraccini. Figure 1, c. (l to r) Olga Bas Lay,
Philippe Gaulier. Figure 1, d. (l to r) Olga Bas Lay, Philippe Gaulier. All images are
stills from film footage by Lynne Kendrick, September, 2008.

Tag is the type of game that is integral to Gaulier’s pedagogical approach as he uses

this to produce pleasure.5 This emerges at the point when the player fails the game.

The failure of playing this game is always expected – for the simple reason that all

bar one must be ‘out’ before the game is over – but the experience is nevertheless a

surprise when it arrives and this is almost always pleasurable for the player. This

pleasure is not just an emotive response to the moment of failure; arguably the

resulting pleasure emerges directly as a consequence from the design of the game.

For Gaulier, there is something vital about the rules as these produce a particular

type of play which, paradoxically, results in the disintegration of these rules and

ignites pleasure. Thus analysis of these different but relational components – the

5
see fig. 1, a. Tatiana has just made the mistake of calling her own name

6
established rules, the playing of and dissolution of these and the resulting pleasure –

of the game might reveal some of the methodologies intrinsic to Gaulier’s ludic

pedagogy.

The most apparent, but significant fact is that Tag is entirely functional to Gaulier’s

pedagogy and for this reason he insists upon fidelity to the game. Nothing exterior to

the game is permitted. Any strategy conjured in advance, for instance the playful

persecution of another player by repeatedly calling their name, will be futile as the

rapid nature of the game negates any opportunity for tactics. This simple game of

Tag encapsulates Gaulier’s fundamental tenet of his ludic performer training: that the

player can only play – or perform – that which is genuinely derived from the game.

Anything prepared, or extraneous to the games proceedings is dismissed as a ‘bad

idea’. This is because Gaulier’s use of play is autotelic, which means it is self

creating; it ‘begins and ends with itself’ (Anchor 1978, p. 70).

This is why I sought an autotelic theory of play, one which could provide terminology

to describe Gaulier’s application of the constructs of play entirely within the realm of

the game not in relation to the world outside of it. Sutton-Smith refers to this as ‘the

ludic dialectic’ (Sutton-Smith op.cit. p. 197), an entirely contained manifestation of

play rather than ‘the referential dialectic’ (ibid., p. 197), in which play refers to that

which is exterior to it. This is because play is most commonly considered to be 'a

representation of something' (Huizinga 1949, p. 13), a form in which we see

ourselves reflected: for instance the notion that child’s play at ‘being adult’ is a

mimetic act that has a socio-genetic or epigenetic function,6 a means of observing,

learning and testing existing behaviours. On a larger scale representative play is

considered to be culturally metatextual, the progenitor of cultural activities, the forum

for the reinforcement of cultural behaviour, a ‘function of culture proper’ (ibid., p. 2).

6
For example see Erikson (1978, p. 701) for an atypical psychosocial theory of play.

7
This fundamental concept that ‘all play means something’ (ibid., p. 1), is itself a

cultural phenomenon, as play theorist Michael Echeruo has pointed out, this

representational function of play is in fact a western, ‘mimetic bias’ (Echeruo 1994, p.

138). The referential dialectic dominates occidental understanding of play.

However one theorist offers a way of articulating play that describes more adequately

a ludic dialectic. Roger Caillois was a polymath who broadened the field of ludic

theory by incorporating different types of play within his rubric of games.7 As a

consequence, the dominant occidental mimetic form is but one of a varied

manifestation of play forms and impulses. Furthermore his emphasis is on the

pretence, the fakery of mimesis, thus his theory is expedient for analyzing types of

play practice (particularly performance) that are not, in essence, ‘referential’, such as

Gaulier’s. Caillois’ categorizations offered several forms of games that are

manifested as different and potentially diverse social and cultural acts and these are

created by two distinct but related ways of playing which are in a dialectic

relationship. These are paidia and ludus, which he describes as a continuum, from

‘turbulence to rules’ (Caillois 2001, p. 27):

At one extreme an almost indivisible principle, common to diversion,

turbulence, free improvisation, and carefree gaiety is dominant. It
manifests a kind of uncontrolled fantasy that can be designated by the
term paidia. At the opposite extreme.... there is a growing tendency to
bind [paidia] with arbitrary, imperative, and purposely tedious
conventions, to oppose it still more by ceaselessly practicing the most
embarrassing chicanery upon it, in order to make it more uncertain of
attaining its desired effect. This latter principle is completely
impractical, even though it requires an ever-greater amount of effort,
patience, skill, or ingenuity. I call this second component ludus.' (ibid.,
p. 13)

Paidia refers to the type of play akin to the 'play instinct' (ibid., p. 28), and is

exuberant; as Barker terms it, a ‘release of energy’ (Barker 1989, p. 232). Ludus

describes the structures in place, rules for instance, that are flexible and subject to

7
Caillois’ ludic theory in Le Jeux et les Homes was first published in 1958 and translated into English in 1961.

8
alteration. Paidia is typical of the first playing impulse found in the child, a set of

manifestations (not even called games) that have no name. This definition is

reinforced by Caillois’ use of the term paidia as ‘the root of the word for child’ (ibid., p.

29). Ludus materialises as the child develops and engages in strategic play, for

instance games.

Ludus, is not just the emergence of form, but describes a way of playing that

professionalises play, as Caillois puts it, ludus is ‘the occasion for training [which]

leads to the acquisition of a special skill’ (ibid., p. 29). Thus ludus is much more than

the application of rules but describes the level of difficulty – and all the means by

which this can be exerted – of the game and the skill required to play it. Ludus and

paidia are both present in acts of play – specifically games. These two ways of

playing are in dialogue, as each choice the player (or in the case of this analysis the

pedagogue) may make in one way of playing directly impacts upon the other. This is

the significant characteristic of Caillois’ theory which articulates play as a process not

just an innate biological impulse or a psychological function and this chimed with the

emergent performative turn in cultural theory. This process is propelled by the

continuous flux between ludus and paidia and the result of this might be a mimetic

act, a gambling indulgence or an immersive, dangerous ritual purposefully designed

to ‘inflict a kind of voluptuous panic on an otherwise lucid mind’ (ibid., p. 23). For

example, in terms of games analysis, a simple game of Grandmother’s Footsteps

becomes tedious if the rules remain the same. Augmenting the itinerary – and

therefore the ludus – with some ‘purposely tedious conventions’ (ibid., p. 13), by

adding chairs that must be sat on, clothes to be worn, food to be consumed

throughout the journey towards the Grandmother’s back, raises the potential paidic

possibilities and maintains the player’s immersion in the game. Thus the core of

Caillois’ ludic theory, this dialogical relationship between ludus and paidia, provides

9
an opportunity for describing the intrinsic function of Gaulier’s games in his

pedagogy.

If the simple game of Tag is seen as an exercise in ludus play, it is possible to

examine the complexities of the game and to propose how Gaulier uses this to

produce the pleasurable response. Whilst the rules are deceptively simple,

comprising of only two actions, tagging or calling a name, the ludus encountered by

the player is not. Though the rules appear to remain the same throughout the game,

if these are considered as a part of Caillois’ ludus then it is possible to propose that

these change. The ludus of Tag, in this case the unobtrusive but gradual increase in

difficulty, begins with the repetitive nature of the rules. The player has to negotiate

the increasing difficulty of a repeating pattern of the name/tag in conjunction with the

changing pattern of whose name is called and who is tagging or tagged. Thus the

ludus contains two patterns, one fixed and the other in flux and as such there is

considerable potential for conflicting demands upon the player’s attention.

Furthermore, as the group diminishes in size, the player experiences an increase in

her/his participation, as a consequence the ludus is amplified by the onus on

maintaining their performance so far, as well as the increasingly competitive

imperative to win. For the remaining players the amount of information they need to

maintain, sustain and respond to increases significantly throughout the duration of

the game as individual engagement in the patterns of the game becomes more

frequent. If the player’s focus is not on this accelerating ludus s/he risks a hesitation

or error.

In order to remain in the game, the player must engage in ludus play. However,

Gaulier isn’t interested in compliance or perfection. Though there is the prize of

praise from Gaulier for winning a game like Tag, the important point is that pleasure

occurs at the moment of losing, in getting the game wrong. At the moment the rule is

10
accidentally flouted, the pleasurable experience is ignited. Even if the player feels

deflated there is still a point at which their pleasure is expressed. This fleeting

moment when pleasure punctures the veneer of the concentrated ludus play, can be

understood as Barker’s description of ‘experiential joy’ (Barker op.cit. p. 232). But this

is not just an expression of the realisation that the player has flouted the rule and

failed the game – which is usually an amusing moment – but is a response to the

player’s release from the ludus of the game. The disconnection with ludus is vital in

order that the pleasure is fully, if fleetingly, experienced.

Caillois’ concept of paidia seems to capture the essence of Gaulier’s pleasurable

play; both are childlike, instinctual and joyful. Yet, the most significant correlation

between Caillois’ paidia and Gaulier’s concept of pleasure is that both are rebellious.

Caillois’ paidia also describes an impulse of ‘basic freedom’ (Caillois op.cit. p. 27)

from the constraint of ludus and as such can be subversive; a way of playing that

tests and can resist the chicanery of ludus. Thus this version of tag, by increasing

ludus, in turn intensifies the pending paidic release. The more restrictive the game

becomes, the greater the urge for the paidic abandon. This game is as close as

Gaulier gets to producing Caillois’ ‘spontaneous manifestations of the play instinct’

(ibid., p. 28), and purposely so. Gaulier’s performer is afforded an attainable

experience of pleasure early on in training. In the paidic experience lie many

possibilities for Gaulier’s performer training, in particular the state of play that

prepares for clown. Though the player fails the game, in failing they have found a

state that is useful for performance.

While the pleasurable play of Gaulier’s training could be said to be something like

Caillois’ paidic play, the methodological problem for Gaulier is that he cannot directly

instruct the player to play paidically – the paradox being that any play ‘to order’

ceases to be play. He can, though, create the structures in which the performer

11
discovers this; in other words Gaulier can exert control over the ludus of the game.

Thus it could be said that Gaulier’s pedagogy is something like a form of ludus as he

presides over all games, conducting the rules, augmenting the structure and

narrating the games’ proceedings. An example of this is Gaulier’s addition of a simple

activity or action to an existing game. During the Taller Clown, participant Miguel

found it hard to communicate convincing, pleasurable play. To assist, Gaulier

requested the help of two women from the group who were instructed to tickle him

during a number of games. For instance in the game of Foreign Languages – a

simple game of speaking nonsense – Miguel had to continue his ‘text’ (the sound of a

horse whinnying) whilst being subject to the additional activity – tickling – which

resulted in a singularly identifiable response from Miguel: pleasure.8 Gaulier identified

Miguel’s problem, to benefit him and to guide those watching:

You don’t show enough pleasure. Now [when] you have a good
pleasure, you have the good eyes, when you do the exercise
before your eyes are boring. You have to give your fantasy your
fun, many things are stupid for the pleasure … your eyes are
boring but not with these two women. Who would be less boring
with these two women? Even the Pope would be less boring.

By introducing the tickle, Gaulier is not only making the participant laugh. Miguel is in

the process of negotiating this with the other rules of the game, thus the tickle

becomes an added level of difficulty, an increase in the ludus that demands a

different approach. Gaulier is augmenting the ludus of the game, in order to provide a

moment of paidic-like play for Miguel. Gaulier is, thus, the architect of the ludus of the

game, his pedagogical approach manifested by construction of the rules and his

methodology evident in this continuous movement between the established rule (the

game structure), the player’s response and his subsequent rules applied.

A more intense example of Gaulier’s imposition of ludus can be found in his use of

games for clown training, for instance his version of Simon Says. This is a simple

8
See fig. 1, b.

12
game in which a group of players can only undertake the actions that are preceded

by the phrase ‘Samuel says.’9 Gaulier leads the game and his skilled coercion tricks

players into making mistakes by repetition of instructions: ‘Samuel says walk, Samuel

says stop,’ which are punctuated by new instructions: ‘Samuel says jump once, jump

once,’ that change the actions of the game and divert the players’ attention. Once an

error is made Gaulier halts the game and initiates a ritual of confession and

punishment. Firstly each player is required to inculpate themselves by admitting to

their mistake. Then they are offered a choice, they can either risk a forfeit or absent

themselves from this. The latter is a get out clause for those who don’t feel confident

to chance the former, they are allowed to say ‘nothing’ to Gaulier – though according

to him this is an admission of inadequacy, a declaration of the lack of attractiveness

required to risk the particular offer of the forfeit – which is a request to kiss another

player. The kiss is a particular type of transaction and Gaulier is firm about the

manner in which this is performed. Firstly they must solicit this by clearly asking ‘may

I kiss you?’ They must remain still until their request is granted, at which point the

requestor may walk towards the other player to perform the act. Students can

incriminate each other if they see a mistake not owned up to and frequently do so. A

guilty player, a cheat, is given a higher stake of forfeit, usually five or more kisses to

be granted from different participants. On the rare occasions that the player has all

requests granted, s/he enjoys another burst of pleasure on escaping the potential

penalty. The risk of this part of the game is that the request for a kiss is refused and

this results in punishment from Gaulier.

The actual punishment is to be dreaded, it is administered by Gaulier himself; and

consumes a large proportion of the time spent participating in the game.

The punishment consists of an arm lock, ‘shampoo’ (he tickles the

player’s hair), ‘French guillotine’ (chops the back of the neck),

9
Gaulier tailors the nomenclature of games as an act of authoring these, this alteration of ‘Simon Says’ to ‘Samuel
Says’ is in honour of his son.

13
 ‘Chinese acupuncture’ (he pinches the skin on the player’s back),
‘Guantanamo’ (he presses the player’s fingers into the palm of the
hand) and to finish off, he administers a Chinese burn on the arm.

The initial arm lock is playful enough and the tickling lulls the player into the false

impression that this will be a fake ordeal. But the punishment isn’t fake, it’s real and it

hurts. It is a humiliation as it is both a rejection by another player (the refused kiss)

and is received in an ungainly, bent posture forced upon the player by the strength of

Gaulier’s arm lock.10 At the Taller Clown several participants were physically

castigated and their responses clearly demonstrated their shock at the severity of

Gaulier’s actions11 as well as shame after the event. This tangible act is a genuine

surprise for the players who, up until this point, have only received verbal abuse from

the pedagogue. The reason why he inflicts physical punishment is not explained by

Gaulier, but it adds seriousness to the game and this is a significant development of

the ludus of the occasion and the processes of the training.

Though it remains unexplained, Gaulier’s cruelty is not arbitrary. His extreme

imposition of ludus is an intrinsic, pedagogical act. This not only demands immersion

in the proceeds of the game, but also abandons the player in its midst as they are

beset with a baffling alternating array of playful and cruel rules that produce

unwittingly personal and often revelatory responses. This intensified ludus is

designed for the player to attain the skills for an advanced technique of Gaulier’s

performer training, it is a structure enforced upon the game that produces the type of

play necessary for the clown. Gaulier describes the clown as ‘the player’s idiot twin’,

the ridiculous version of one’s self that is particularly visible to the audience. In terms

of playing, Gaulier makes an important distinction between being a player and

performing clown, which lies in the experience of difficultly, failure and the ‘feeling of

being a bad student’. As such Gaulier’s ‘cruelty’ is, in actual fact, a key component of

10
See fig. 1, c.
11
See fig. 1, d.

14
his pedagogical approach. It is an act of authority over the ludus of the game that

immerses the student in the level of difficulty necessary for genuinely awful feelings

and acts of idiocy to occur. For Gaulier it is from this position of ‘badness’ the

recalcitrant subordination of the clown emerges.

Figure 2, a. (l to r) Philippe Gaulier, Eva Permanyer, Pablo Ibarluzea, Luis Brusca,

Lucia Leiva, Ferran Aixalà, Noemí Tudela. Figure 2, b. (l to r) Nathalie Baunare,
Miguel Chimeno. Figure 2, c. (l to r) Nathalie Baunare, Miguel Chimeno. Figure 2, d.
Philippe Gaulier All images are stills from film footage by Lynne Kendrick,
September, 2008.

Indeed Gaulier has created games designed to elicit naughtiness. Bad Words, for

example, is a game in which players are encouraged to insult and swear at Gaulier –

simply because they have been told not to. Gaulier introduces the game with a

collective admonishment, as if they had already committed the offence.

You say bad words, you said “dick” or … I am furious, so I shout to

you and you shut up – you SHUT UP. You remember you made a
mistake and the boss [Gaulier] is furious so you shut up. And I say
now if I hear one bad word more, it will be terrible, the punishment
will be terrible …

15
After a few playful cuffed ears and pinches,12 Gaulier leaves the playing area and

directs the students as to when they should re-offend. He even designates the time

lapse between their remorse and the compulsion to play dangerously by insulting the

pedagogue once more.

… So I leave, to sit on this chair and after forty seconds so you have
time to be a bit a ashamed, to be “I made a mistake” … And you shut
up, I sit, forty seconds and after forty seconds one [player] try to find
a contact with a neighbour then … (he swears quietly) and we start
again the game of the pleasure to say bad words …

This is another example of Gaulier’s ludus methodology, the rules – and the breaking

of these – are clear; indeed the rule is that the rule must be broken. But the skill for

the player lies in knowing how to commit the act with pleasure, the point at which the

impulse to do so emerges, the point at which to engage in paidia. Players need to

learn the ‘dialectic … between the release of energy [the paidic] and the definition

imposed by the rules [ludus]’ (Barker op.cit. p. 232). And in this case the paidic

impulse must be imbued with ludus censure, the feeling that Gaulier describes as

‘being in the shit.’

When you are not in the shit you are just an idiot who play a big
game, you are not a clown.

Thus it could be said that ludus, this difficulty, this cruelty, is essential to constructing

the clown. Ludus, in this case the difficulty of mistake making, and the paidic

compulsion to do wrong, is the very means by which the clown appears.

However the autotelic interplay between paidia and ludus is a hard balance to strike.

There is no formula – an x amount of engagement in difficulty will not produce

quantity y of playful pleasure – indeed any attempt at formulaic play will be summarily

dismissed by Gaulier. During my documentation of the Taller Clown, in which I was a

participant as well as a researcher, I was frequently admonished for ‘playing too

much’ and overdoing it by ‘peeing in the paella.’ (Gaulier tailors his insults to the

12
See fig. 2, a

16
country in which he is teaching). I was guilty, on a number of occasions, of bringing

to bear upon the game ways of playing that weren’t in genuine response to the ludus

that was underway. Though I felt I was engaging in pleasure, this wasn’t apparent to

the pedagogue. Indeed, many of Gaulier’s students may experience pleasure but find

the genuine demonstration of this extremely difficult to achieve.

One such example is a game of Caillois’ ‘incessant invention’ (Caillois op.cit. p. 23) –

an improvisation – attempted by Miguel and Nathalie at the Taller Clown. They were

taking part in an augmented version of the Foreign Languages game which involves

players in pairs addressing the audience with gobbledygook. Words are not

necessary for this exercise and gibberish is actively welcomed. The aim of the game

is to demonstrate pleasure in communicating nonsense. Nathalie was playing Gina

Lollobrigida, scantily clad with a red nose and Miguel was dressed as Jesus, also

sporting a red nose, in a full length dressing gown, with foil-wrapped halo and

equipped with a basket of props including bread and fish.13 Nathalie began by

addressing the audience with a cheery, nonsensical expression communicated as a

sort of welcome to the audience. Miguel’s reply was immediately to her, not to the

audience. In gibberish he appeared to take issue with her greeting. Gaulier stopped

them immediately and chastised Miguel because ‘you didn’t admire [Nathalie],’14 and

instead of communicating pleasure with Nathalie in the game he spoke to her as ‘the

professor not happy with the student.’ For Gaulier any conflict between players is

unwatchable for the audience. As a consequence Miguel was once again deemed

boring. Gaulier at first amused the workshop participants with his threat to dismiss

Miguel from the game.

Alors, who kill Jesus, a second time? Everybody start to think, my

god it’s so boring. So boring, we don’t see your pleasure to be on

13
These characters are assigned by Gaulier not be played as such but to assist the players in finding their clown. The
trainee performer does not necessarily have to comply with the clown character, rather they are encouraged to resist
this. For instance a number of exercises at the Taller Clown required them to denounce the pedagogue for asking
her/him to wear a costume they hated.
14
See fig. 2, b.

17
 stage, to be the idiot … but if you don’t give the good fun for the
game, you are in bad mood. You have to play; you have to be in a
better mood.

Nathalie and Miguel are skilled performers and they understood what Gaulier implied

was missing from their approach to the game. Undaunted they continued. Nathalie

feigned pleasure at discovering the props in Miguel’s basket. He immediately

responded by selecting a piece of bread and attempting to break this. The futile act of

breaking plastic bread by an ersatz Jesus amused the audience, so Gaulier allowed

them continue with the game. Miguel popped the bread in Nathalie’s mouth, which

promptly became stuck in her teeth.15 Nathalie played this moment directly to the

audience, attempting to maintain her pleasure whilst encumbered with the bread.

Despite the fact that this improvisation was to some extent successful, in that it was

funny and amused the rest of the workshop participants, nevertheless Gaulier

curtailed the game.

He has the nice moment with the bread; she remember it was the
show and she pretend to save the show with the bread in her
mouth… But you (to Miguel) we didn’t see you happy as the writer
of this game.

Miguel insisted he was enjoying himself but Gaulier was adamant that this wasn’t

evident – wasn’t communicated – to him and to those watching.

While documenting this sequence I could see Miguel’s strategies for playing the

game and how these diverted him from immersing himself fully in the paidic

possibilities. Miguel began engaging in the ludus of his improvisation well, by

responding directly to Nathalie’s playful propositions, but as soon as this ludus was

established between them his attention was set on constructing the next rule.

Consequently Miguel’s rapid accumulation of ludus quickly encumbered him with a

complex game to negotiate and as such his game became densely ludic. Nathalie

attempted to decelerate the rate of Miguel’s ludus by playing her responses to the

15
See fig. 2, c.

18
audience. Miguel didn’t afford himself this opportunity, partly because he sensed his

exit from the improvisation was imminent and this raised the ludus imperative to steer

the improvisation towards Gaulier’s instructions in order not to fail this exercise.

Gaulier, in fact, required him to do the opposite: to take the time to play and to have

pleasure in this, in Caillois’ terms, to play paidically.

Throughout this example Gaulier is teaching Miguel to learn the dialectic between the

game and pleasure. He may identify error between each attempt at the improvisation,

but his pedagogical method is manifested in the game and his redirection of it. For

Miguel to find his pleasure as the writer of the game, he needed to play it effectively

by only engaging in the autotelic ludus found therein. For Gaulier, a skilled player is a

simple player. This principle has broader implications for how, as teachers and

performer trainers, we might apply a variety of ludic techniques. Furthermore, an

understanding of the potential between ludus and paidia in play forms will not only

benefit our own pedagogy but also enable identification of the aesthetic produced.

While Gaulier’s technique is an obstacle course of ludus, the performance he

requires is not the compliant, civilised ludus way of playing but is the paidic state of

play, the potentially disruptive, permanently naughty, ‘primary power of improvisation

and joy’ (Caillois op.cit. p. 27). A Gaulierian performance is always paidic, a prime

example of this is Baron-Cohen’s ‘Borat’ who, though presented as culturally

different, is in fact playfully subverting each norm, rule or ludus he encounters.

Baron-Cohen’s performances don’t just appear to be similar to Caillois’ paidia but

arguably they are paidic because these are produced by the constraints in which the

performer is immersed. Thus Gaulier’s pleasurable performance aesthetic is not just

one of arbitrary play, emphasised buffoonery or excessive expression of joy but is a

construct of the difficult – sometimes extraordinarily complex – ludus. For this reason

I consider that Gaulier’s performer training produces a paidic aesthetic as all his

19
strategic ludic techniques are designed to create this pleasurable, paidic play.

Moreover, this aesthetic is actualised by ludus, it is present in the sense that it only

ever occurs in its autotelic construction. It is a way of performing that is ‘in the

moment’. A paidic aesthetic, then, not only describes the play aesthetic, but creates

this presence. As such, it is possible to propose that pleasure and presence are not

merely unequivocal qualities possessed by the performer but are, in fact, produced

by the act of play. In conclusion, this analysis demonstrates how Caillois’ autotelic,

ludic dialectic reveals the function of play in creating the aesthetic that Gaulier’s

pedagogy produces. Finally, in terms of our ongoing endeavours in performer training

research, this use of play theory for close analysis of pedagogical technique provides

one possible answer to Sutton-Smith’s call for a ‘ludic performance theory’ (Sutton-

Smith op.cit. p. 192).

20
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