I miss Tomas Pandur . Maybe I should start by saying that. Not even a month ago I went to her latest show (" One hundred minutes "at the Centro Cultural de la Villa) and I feel a little orphan. When Tomas Pandur gets off the stage to me I feel a sadness and a remoteness that has no limits. It's kind so far occur the day to stop projecting "Saraband" in theaters in Madrid (still risk for her in the Little Film Studio), or what will happen the day that Jose Luis Alvin stop doing columns.
In my last article on Pandur strong emphasis on subversion in the provocation, in habitual vomiting. It is a way of approaching tremendísima playwright. I myself fell into the topic of topic and let myself be carried away by passion and violence after watching "Hell" categorically and wonderful work. Now, a month after "One hundred minutes," the work just digested (sometimes I think my guess about it is never exhausted), one would speak of Pandur as desperate man, as a theatrical sadness without limit. Perhaps it was the Bosnian war (on which so often floor lecture here) or maybe it was a necessity to have criminal histories. Pandur
just causes fear to not be heard. Many say they have invented a new theatrical language, which I seem to be true (the front is the front, and has been making art since he wore diapers Pandur), and many say they are just doing a half-tame theater way between the Cremaster Cycle by Matthew Barney and video screenings of La Fura Dels Baus . I think that Pandur is building something great, a sort of collage / theater compulsively use the soundtracks of the films of Kubrick and authentic manga out of the scenic moments. A woman dressed as a bride who cries when listening to a phone in "Hell." A man breaks to mourn in the middle of the introductory dinner "One hundred minutes." Scenic moments. Ten seconds, one minute, a short fragment inserted into the work and getting the viewer to experience the real passion. Pandur spinning those moments with unsurpassed mastery. It is capable of filling a coherent narrative without too much work (as the adaptation of Dostoyevsky is, at least, intriguing) based on those little "emotional shock", is able to take the very center of your pain. Something that very few artists are capable of doing.
Gossips say that you are working on an adaptation of "Wings of Desire" in the company of Nacho Duato . Certainly, to become true, Pandur dramatically exceed (or even embarrassing) Wenders film . I walk through the streets of Madrid looking to see your name again on posters, in search of a new breath theatrical smash of a fucking time music library from the Gran Via
0 comments:
Post a Comment