WORLD PORK

CAST:

- Dramaturgy:
Francesca Macri and Andrew Trapani
- directed
Francesca Macri
with
Aida Talliente and Andrew Trapani
- Lighting design
Luigi Biondi
- production
Biancofango - The Court Hospitable - Officina1011

PLOT:

A man. A woman. A pair. A room. A month. December. One night. Christmas one. The snow that covers everything and everything clears. The dawn that captures the early darkness, reveals the lewd desires, consumes the thoughts, distorts the minds, leading to attrition. Here they are. The rebels spouses. The exhausted lovers. Here they are. The survivor and the Executioner. The meeting of opposites. Nothing will satisfy them. Nothing satisfies them.
But where do you run when you meet it?

They have no names this man and this woman. They could be called in any way. Hide, despite themselves, in spite of ourselves, something ancestral, atavistic. They have no names, and ever they might throughout the show this man and this woman. Sometimes not enough to be like you. And to say things that perhaps would otherwise remain locked in her throat, she wears, awkwardly, gowns Marilyn Monroe.

No name, then, and, apparently, a home that could be anywhere. Everywhere in this pig world suburbs. A window, as in a painting by Hopper, divided spaces. There you look, there is expected. The place of the void and of the dream, of anticipation and silence. Of thought. In out. Outside, inside.

Locked in this room-cage-grave, this Marilyn from peanuts celebrated for her man the Christmas party. He follows it would not be able to do anything else. This follows because of this world pork, this slut city, is the first of the inhabitants. It is there and is not there. He would want to be there and elsewhere. It's there and think about something else.

We, when we leave the theater, we imagine them in the middle of that room, no doors, no way out. And you really do not know who is more alive and who is more dead.

After much ranting, finally, silence. The snow falls. No one seems to have noticed anything.