Last Friday I went to see WINTER TRAVEL, Diego Alejandro Tantanian and Penelas, the Metropolitan 2 (Corrientes 1343-5277 0500) 23.30 pm on Fridays.
Berlin, postal shadow
Fall 1995. Scala de San Telmo. The young playwright-colleague Actor-Alejandro Tantanian us to see one of his works based on songs by Kurt Weill, who by then was for me a vague reference to some musical works of Brecht, and from there would be almost a synonym for years, power an interpretive singer. The small room was expanded, with the experience. The tone in my memory is blue like the sea of \u200b\u200bthat song, "Blue, blue." And the picture is the deafening sound of a tear, a few years later would become classic theme and musical repertoire.
For a decade and a half, the qualities of interpretation, the standard versions and musical arrangements and the effectiveness emotional these shows continues. Do not try this article, then, a review of "Winter Journey", whose short story (?) Offer below-but a small, simple celebration of what this trip in progress, from 95 to now continues to provoke. Plot Summary
Composition theme "Winter Journey," Schubert's song cycle "as a starting point. Mr. Diego Penelas plays piano and does vocals. Rodrigo Quirós, drums and vocals. Alfredo Zucarelli, cello. And Alexander Tantanián act (and interact), singing, dancing (yes), and invites players to sing.
Moon and Lacan
Why sing the homo sapiens? We think we know why he speaks: he speaks because it is round and full as immutable planets. Speech because it lacks, because it is incomplete, because the other threatens to bite and maim in bits and to survive, to resist, to feed-forward teeth, hands and nails and phonemes-bite and mutilated in anxiety. We speak because we want to, talk to produce a material world that contains us. We speak to be from the other, to be with others. We talked to. Come in. We are plural.
Luna, the small moon of two and a half, talking up a storm, repeats and relates everything. Talk to me, with mother, Silvia, to Agnes, with her grandmother and wrists. It says a lot, think, play. And suddenly sings.
I sing myself
young children, during the slow language development and acquisitions, sing almost as much or more than they talk. The speech becomes, over time positions, meaning, intellectual, referential, phatic. The song, however, remains fun.
All adults sing alone. Sign of sanity, emotional, hot shower, recovery of sensory pleasure, sing as adults overflow. I think (and Lacan split with his beam me) that the subject speaks because he lacks, but sing because you do not. Sing because you do not.
-Jacques, get up and walk: In tears, protest, Night, Winter Journey .-
Of Tears
2002. The remarkable precision of artist Jorge Macchi in the lobby of The Wine Club. The strict concept ideas and Rudnitzky Tanta. The Peronist hype saying all that then, along with Brecht, will begin a stage of proportion. of tears is the classic indelible. Alexander, the singer, comic, marvel.
protest
2004. The Teatro San Martín get the idea of \u200b\u200ba musical theater design. This show Song "protest" foreshadows the dimension of "Winter Journey", but not privacy. Revolutionary moments, political, theme running through the scenic, six years after the marked drip hooked for Trip items ...
At night
2008. Or privacy. What was the scene of lush now condensed into a piano, and forces the body and the floor to expand and display. The actor is deployed, he says, and makes Night.
I celebrate myself and
Winter Journey. Tantanian and is Tantanian. And audience can congregate in the 600 seats at the Metropolitan, we know what will. Yes, we know. It is another spectacle. And yet, we quoted. Come on, we uphold. We are surprised (the "performance" of the flies ... well.) Why
sings the homo sapiens?
Why go once more to see a show of this performer?
Moon sings his songs again yesterday. His past is short. This is reaffirmed. And he held in the overflow. On another level, our past is also short. And the song is a celebration. Let's all get together then, that we know:
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loaf and invite my soul,
I lean and loaf at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, formed from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back awhile sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.
Walt Whitman
[Me I welcome and singing to myself.
And what I say now about me I tell you,
because what I have what you have
and every atom of my body is yours too.
Vago ... and invite my soul wander.
Vago and I lie on a whim on earth
to see how the grass grows summer.
My tongue, every molecule of my blood were born here,
of this land and these winds.
I gave birth parents who were born here, parent
that spawned other parents who were born here, parent
sons of this land and these winds also.
I have thirty-seven years. My health is perfect. And with my breath
pure
start singing today and do not finish my song until I die. To be silent now
schools and creeds.
Back. A place.
know what their mission and do not forget it;
anyone forget it.
But now my heart I offer the same to good to evil, let
talk to everyone without restriction,
and I open the doors to the original power of nature
rampant.
Walt Whitman.
(Version de León Felipe)]
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