A rotund Shakespearian actor seated in the foreground narrates and sings an incredible epic spanning Europe, about a man, perhaps his ancestor, who was cursed by a siren who was accidentally caught in the frozen, salty water on the edge of a fjord in the depths of the Faroe Islands, in a year that has long since been forgotten, under the heavenly auspices of the Aurora Borealis, speckled beautifully, in that very moment, by a flock of cranes on their way to Africa after the season. An acolyte in a swimsuit, as frenetic and bony as his companion is static and chubby, finds boxes and cardboard here and there and assembles, glues, tears, scribbles in black felt-tip pen and struggles to turn them into illustrations of characters, landscapes, flies, cod, seagulls, ocean liners, bikes and donkeys, thus highlighting what it means to travel: nothing. Discovered with Bigre (which won the Molière Award for Best Comedy in 2017), these two clowns, who are not clowns, are more inspired by British slapstick and take us on a burlesque journey that highlights the continuing hilarity of all the generations involved.