As science slowly unravels the mysteries of the universe, the reality before our eyes is paradoxically even more difficult to grasp. If what we know increases at the speed of light, what we don't understand proliferates at the speed of darkness, it grows exponentially, like the dark energy that is tearing the cosmos apart.
Today, regardless of our opinions, we harbor suspicions about those who have the ability to glimpse the flashes of our future in the present.
We prefer to ignore warnings. We inhabit a time of crisis, a time, as Gramsci writes, where the old dies and the new cannot be born.
The glare of the triumph of reason plummets our daily interactions toward deafness.
Cassandra from the treasure of her nightmares sees where others can't and speaks.
But what is its language?
It is perhaps an articulation that goes beyond linguistic articulation, built on an excess of language. Her condemnation is not only that she should not be believed, but that her word can never reach a sufficient distance to be understood.
Cassandra is a ghostly figure, a kind of ghost who transcends the limits of time and speaks from a distant past to our own time.
Her lucid knowledge, cursed by Apollo, makes her the only one to sense the end of the future and the impending collapse in the house of the Atreids, but her destiny is to exist in a state of ghostly alienation among the living: her cry is ineffective, her truth carries no weight, and her very presence is a rejected omen that her contemporaries prefer to ignore.
She perfectly embodies "spectrology" (hauntology), that is, the feeling that the promised future has vanished.
Her inevitable death sentence, lucidly accepted in an act of radical impotence, transforms her into the archetype of someone who sees disaster (personal and collective) but is forced to retreat into conscious silence, thus becoming a tragic shadow – a lucid, nihilistic, and alienated soul – destined to languish on the margins of a society that values illusion and productivity more than truth.
From Aeschylus' Agamemnon
Directed and written by Lorenza Guerrini
Performer Carlotta Spaggiari
Costumes Silvia Lombardi
Lights design Alice Scartapacchio
Set and dramaturgical suggestions Alessandro Conti, Maria Federica Maestri, Francesco Pititto, Giulio Santolini
Technical care Giulia Mangini
Artistic direction of the Parentele project Maria Federica Maestri_Francesco Pititto
Curating Elena Sorbi
Organization Ilaria Stocchi
Press office, communication Giovanna Pavesi
Promotion, graphic design Alessandro Conti
Production Lenz Fondazione
