Corriere della Sera
Massimo Marino
Controscene
An elderly man abandoned on a hospital bed or perhaps a morgue bed. A text in three languages that flows projected into the gray room. He remembers The Aeneid, the death of his father Anchises. Image like Mantegna's Dead Christ. Tubes and tubes. Fog.
Contemporary theatre usually plays on two different levels. Either the immersive one or the alienating one, which breaks down and discusses the elements of the show. Lenz Rifrazioni follows an original path, in which immersion is achieved through decomposition, betrayal, reinvention of structured, literary source materials. In this edition of the now historic Natura dèi Teatri festival, included last year in the Parma festival network InContemporanea, it presents not a new show but various stages of deciphering and recreating Virgil's poem, a different episode each time. The one I witnessed is the third, Aeneis #3. The lung, marked by the breath of the dying old Anchises, who in the first episode had been split into the god Jupiter.
On stage is an actor of long navigation and dense skill like Giancarlo Ilari, one of the historic names of the Cut and then of the Collective of Parma, born in 1927. A fragile and powerful presence, desolate and darting.
Directors Maria Federica Maestri and Francesco Pititto dissect, as usual, the elements of the show: the text becomes, in this case, projection (as well as reinvention), a graphic sign as well as a word. The movement in search of (last) breath of the almost corpse rising from the bed becomes dragged towards opaque thresholds, with an empty leash. Enter another of the festival's strands, us and the dogs, and the animals, with phrases that recall the dog's ability to feel its owner even under the mound of earth in the tomb.
Another of the characteristics of the cycle is the particular attention paid to sound creation, each time entrusted to a different artist: in this case, Paul Wirkus's live musical performance immerses him even more in a final atmosphere of irremediable nostalgia. The face projects, like the amplified breath of the performer, fringes in silent memories and introspections, in a desolate hand-to-hand fight with death trying to kidnap air from elusive life.