il sangue

di pippo delbono

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Only three chairs, three stands, and some musical instruments (lute, opharion, oud, electric guitar). The theatre language this time, it’s the one of the music and the voice. From the beginning to the end, they don’t stop to chase each other, to slap, to embrace, to love.
On one side an immense Petra Magoni that dress and it breaks the notes inside dizziness, on the other Pippo Delbono that, almost a secular cristo in the middle of the stage, plants the nails of the tragedy (above all the Oedipus of Sofocle) and sows them on his own history, that then is the history of everybody.

A story of compassion that departs from far and it reaches the present, here related with mothers that has left us, of exiles, of distances, about farewell and of lives led in somewhere else, also on the wild part, as Lou Reed sang.

But the American musician, often evoked by Delbono, it is not the only Great to enter this “concert-recital.” The public is taked by his hand to attend Sofocle and Leonard Cohen, Sinead O’ Connor and Fabrizio De Andrè. The save soul, at the end, it is Bobò, fetish-actor of Delbono, deaf, mute and for forty years confined in an insane asylum. Its voice without words weaves him to the notes climbed by Petra Magoni. And perhaps, better of any other thing, makes us understand that from some part it must be a way to live without pain.”

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