le sorelle macaluso
|The characters involved, participate to a mourning, and are gathered in the funeral ritual of the grief for the death of a family member. Both living and dead relatives, without distinction, participate to this waking, and we attend the development of the story not knowing who is alive and who is dead.
“All is inspired to a short story that once told me a friend of mine. His grandmother, in the delirium of a disease, one night called her daughter screaming. The daughter ran to her bed and the mother asked her: “Finally, am I alive or dead?!” The daughter replied: “Alive! You’re Alive mum!” And the mother, sardonic responded: yeah, alive! I’m dead since longtime and you don’t tell me not to scare me.”
The scene is empty and dark. Only shades live this void, until a body is lunged on stage. The obscurity expels a woman. Adult. Scarred. From the back appear faces of alives and deads mixed together. All are dressed to mourning. This small people advances toward us with sure footstep. A dancing woman join this procession. The sisters Macaluso are a flock of birds suspended between the earth and the sky. In a state of confusion between life and death.
The family is composed by seven sisters that detain them to remember, to evoke, to blame, to dream, to cry and to laugh about their own stories. We are at the funeral of one of them. In the border among here and there, among now and anymore, among it is and it was, the spirits are ready to take away the deceased.
They are in unstable balance, on a border where still fight, on the way of the Sicilian Puppets, with swords and shields in their hands.
A family in movement that get in and out of the dark. I see a young father appearing to her daughter in her fifties, a mother grasped to her husband in an eternity embrace, I see the remained dreams suspended between the shades and the loneliness and I see the extinct ones be in front of us with boldness.
|Extracts of the press:
A performance both deep an delicate … That’s it Le Sorelle Macaluso, beautiful because built with an authentic and essential communication, where there is
no bleak or stark, where the emotion mixes to the irony, where death is described with a part of life, almost as a destiny, as a way to be from which is impossible to detach. So much, that the silence that closes the performance, following a free dance of a naked body, rather than telling us the frailty of the life, make it eternal.
… the artistic maturity, the way she express, it has sweetened her dramaturgy, and here Emma Dante draws close to her firsts amazing works. And it also counts the prevail of a female universe, probably, in this feeling of great understanding toward the world that she tells. Of these seven sisters, of their language and of their ancient lives, we end up to fall in love.
People who know the work of Emma Dante, in this new performance Le Sorelle Macaluso, will find again, exciting, certain atmospheres, certain postures and movements, certain figures and certain elements that reminds to some of those works that have imposed her on the Italian and international scene, and that they have remained engraved in our memory.
We find all this universe –including the narrow palermitan and Pulia dialects- as a map of the soul, inside the bodily and scenic score of Le Sorelle Macaluso, performance that, for the palermitanean author and director, marks an evident way of return to the roots of its more disruptive and breaking language; where the theme of the life and the death still results again of an indivisible and powerful binomial, continually to explore, always inside a family circle.
Il Sole 24 Ore
Emma Dante tenaciously stays attached to her fantastic world, a concrete or an invented place, something that is to half road among the degraded outskirts of Sicily and the stories of the tenacious family bonds.
A love-hate to the life that we find again once more in the new production Le Sorelle macaluso, revered (more than applauded) by the public impassioned by the Sicilian director-creator.
This is the space of the event, an unlikely one, a zone of shade that escapes the life and also to the death, a place where the alive ones dress of black and the corpses on color; where wife and husband meet over the death tightening them self in a touching dance. And you see and feel that the public is not at all embarrassed by so much pathos, because the structure of the work, the irony
And carnality of the characters hold out of the door, the melodrama that pulsates among the lines of the text, and from it remains the pain, burning, of something and someone lost for ever.