In machinists’ jargon, faire la salade means restoring order to the stage turned upside down by the events of the previous day. In her plush property, a wealthy middle-class woman, withered and played by a man, kills time between Gaïev, a spit-plate as philosopher as BHL can be, Mademoiselle Julie, in charge of the linen and Gabriel, in charge of taking care of the gardens. This “love” show with wigs, this big joke assuming the collision of its vaudevillesque and Chekhovian influences, this bizarre, even frightening comedy, ends its dishevelled run with a finale filled with hope.