Caroline Guiela Nguyen


A restaurant, stuck in a liminal space/time continuum, somewhere between 1990s Paris and 1950s Saigon, with Vietnamese pop music and French chansons playing in the background. Eleven characters cross paths on the stage. The characters, of French, Vietnamese of French-Vietnamese descent, much like the actors portraying them, share landscapes, faces, songs and a language which, for some of them, survives only in their memories. They meet for dinner, drink, dance, sing, fall in love, celebrate life. In 1956, a French soldier is about to leave Indochina and convinces his Vietnamese mistress to follow him to France. In 1996, in Paris, Vietnamese exiles are allowed to return home for the first time in decades. Where is home, though? Caroline Guiela Nguyen, herself the daughter of a Vietnamese refugee in France, presents a heartbreaking, deeply moving, polyphonic story, whose male and female voices bear the traumas of history. SAIGON is a wounded land always someone missing, always someone to mourn.

With Greek and English surtitles