Bruailles. August 15th behind the scenes of the fireworks

It's 10 p.m. Night has fallen, and the audience at Bruailles's patronal festival is crowding to admire the show from the parking lot of the multi-purpose hall. It's their moment, and even though Alain Ferrier has over 30 years of fireworks behind him, the pressure is mounting again tonight. "It's good stress," he smiles, his orange firing case in front of his eyes. The 21 kg of powder are ready to light up the sky. 15 minutes of an explosive show, the culmination of meticulous preparation.

Flashback to 5 p.m. The day's heat is still oppressive when Alain Ferrier and his wife Raphaëlle arrive on site. They have to set up the three firing stations and distribute the bombs according to the previously planned plan. "Tonight, we have heart-shaped fireworks, smiley faces, jellyfish bombs, Saturn bombs, etc.," reveals Alain. He will control everything by radio from his command post, a good hundred meters away.

The self-employed entrepreneur, affiliated with the Pyragric company, planned this show in advance with the town hall before modeling it using specific software. The total budget: around €3,000. "The longest part is the administrative side," he explains. With 125mm caliber explosives, one of the largest possible, everything is supervised.

"Security supervision has evolved a lot, and I think that's a good thing," says Alain. He cites the fatal accident in Cholet in 2022 as the starting point for the authorities' awareness. "One year in Louhans, almost 30 years ago, I fired from the Pont de la Culée while people were in the Place de la Libération. It's unthinkable now," he recalls.

Now, it's a whole file to submit to the prefecture ( read elsewhere ). For 125 mm calibers, a distance of 125 meters from any green space or dwelling is required. In the field, two water tanks were installed, one by the town hall and one of 14,000 liters by a farmer from the village.

It's almost 9 p.m. The sun is slowly beginning to set as Alain and Raphaëlle Ferrier finish their preparations. At the end of the field, a car stops. It's a volunteer who's come to bring them a hot meal. For Alain and Raphaëlle, it's the calm before the explosions. "I've been working with the Bruailles festival for over 20 years, and we have strong ties now," Alain says gratefully. "We bring a lot of wonder, it's a real satisfaction," he rejoices. Being a bomb disposal expert plays a vital role in the success of a festival you don't attend.

In the distance, the sound of a brass band echoes. "You can always hear the party from afar," smiles Raphaëlle. But there's no question of complaining. For 13 years, she hasn't just been accompanying him. She's also earned her diplomas. "We met on July 14th, and one of the first things he said to me was that he'd just set off the fireworks. I thought it was great, and I quickly followed him," she recalls.

Unlike her husband, she wears earplugs around her neck. "I like the sound of explosions," replies the enthusiast. He still bears some of the scars, however. "I have one ear that has suffered," he euphemistically says. He assures us that many pyrotechnicians have hearing problems.

It's time. Alain now only responds to his radio console. A first short burst warns the audience: open your eyes, it's coming. For 15 minutes, the sky lights up with all colors, all shapes, until a grand finale. It's also the only one whose sequence of detonations is pre-recorded. All the others are launched manually by Alain, who invokes safety. "If something happens, you have to be able to stop the fire to intervene," he had explained a few hours earlier. No doubt the pleasure of managing his live show is another significant motivation.

After the final explosion, the sky returns to its darkness. Alain, however, is still beaming. "There you go, ladies and gentlemen, they're all gone, I counted them," he says proudly. "Right, see you next time," he says to his precious orange box before putting it away. He'll find it again in a week for the fireworks display in Saint-Amour, Jura.