The Shit/La Merda
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You have to laugh. It is a tragedy in three movements: The Thighs, The Dick, The Fame and a counter-movement: Italy. An actress creates a physical and vocal mask challenging a provocative, scandalous and beastly text. Words might be sung, howled and shrieked but a chant never emerges. In her naked physicality she tells a personal story in an unbroken flow of thoughts/words rendered as sounds and movement. The deafening screams being choked. Appeased. Imploded. This female onstage offers herself up in a feast, ready to be torn apart by anyone. A poetic piece born of the flesh that returns to th...
You have to laugh. It is a tragedy in three movements: The Thighs, The Dick, The Fame and a counter-movement: Italy. An actress creates a physical and vocal mask challenging a provocative, scandalous and beastly text. Words might be sung, howled and shrieked but a chant never emerges. In her naked physicality she tells a personal story in an unbroken flow of thoughts/words rendered as sounds and movement. The deafening screams being choked. Appeased. Imploded. This female onstage offers herself up in a feast, ready to be torn apart by anyone. A poetic piece born of the flesh that returns to the flesh, captured in a tightly-sealed aesthetic. Applause required. The Shit is driven by a desperate attempt to pull ourselves out of the mud, the latest products of the cultural genocide aptly described by Pasolini since the modern consumer society began taking form. A totalitarianism, according to Pasolini, even more repressive than the one of the Fascist era, because it's capable of crushing us softly. Si deve ridere. E' una tragedia in tre tempi: Le Cosce, Il Cazzo, La Fama e un controtempo: L'Italia. Nella sua nudità e intimità pubblica, l'attrice costruisce una maschera fisica/vocale sfidando un testo scandaloso, provocatorio e rabbioso. La scrittura è cantabile, ma il canto non emerge mai, ed è invece preponderante la chiave dell'invettiva, del grido, del corpo che sussulta la sua storia personale in un flusso di pensieri/parole raccontati come suoni. Strazianti. Urla assordanti e contratte. Sopite. Implose. La femmina si offre dal vivo come in un banchetto, pronta a venire sbranata da tutti. Una partitura poetica che nasce così dalla carne e alla carne ritorna, pur dentro a una rigidissima confezione estetica. Applausi obbligatori. La Merda ha come spinta propulsiva il disperato tentativo di districarsi da un pantano o fango, ultimi prodotti di quel genocidio culturale di cui scrisse e parlò Pier Paolo Pasolini all'affacciarsi della società dei consumi. Quel totalitarismo, secondo Pasolini, ancor più duro di quello fascista poiché capace di annientarci con dolcezza. Since its world premiere in Milan in 2012, #LaMerda, written by Cristian Ceresoli and embodied by Silvia Gallerano, has brought its poetic and shocking stream of consciousness on the human condition around the world with sell-out seasons in Edinburgh, London, Berlin, Copenhagen, Adelaide and across Italy (where a subtle censorship is still applied), winning six major international awards including the coveted Scotsman Fringe First Award for Writing Excellence and The Stage Award for Best Performance. The play has already been translated and produced in Italian, English, Brazilian Portuguese, Danish, Spanish and Czech, and will shortly be translated into German and French.
