Spain and God. The two have had a thing for a long time. And to outsiders, not always in a positive sense. Spaniards invented the Inquisition and converted the entire native population of South America to the eternal hunting grounds. When artists delve into the relationship between supreme being and Spaniard, it also quite often produces confrontational works. Take Goya. In any case, Spanish art has always been imbued with religious - Catholic - themes. In theatre, La Fura dels Baus such a club that once began as a marginal chainsaw and slaughterhouse theatre. They have since, to the chagrin of old friends, discovered the mainstream of gothic entertainment, so their kitsch far exceeds that of the church.
So time for something new, and not just a new company, but a new take on that age-old intertwining of Latin and religion. Enter Rodrigo Garcia with its Carniceta Teatro (Theatre the Butchery). It is still about God, flesh and blood, but what the company shows in the International Choice is different. Literally, because the playing surface consists of just under 15,000 'buns', or the sticky dough that surrounds MacDonalds burgers.
On that dough, the 'Golgotha Picnic' takes place, an utterly associative event in which five actors increasingly lose themselves in debauchery around the theme of suffering, Christ and fallen angels.
Despite the sometimes rather gory imagery, the performance is surprisingly hushed and enjoyable to experience. This is not least due to Rodrigo Garcia's texts, which are pleasantly thought-provoking. Freely associating on the theme of Jesus, end times, consumption and Saviour, he thus comes up with the idea that the Messiah as a revolutionary: after all, he had only twelve followers, which today's populists and terrorists do better. And you shouldn't turn to him for life wisdom either, nor to any of his successors, Garcia thinks: 'Freud knows less about the human soul than the CEO of Zara stores.' Or this one: 'Those who save their whole life for a pilgrimage to an Indian guru and then meditate are wasting their time. You learn more about the meaning of life if you can talk to the director of Coca Cola.’
Anyway, some brilliant and banal lyrics about economics and consumerism pass between the body paint and anonymous overeaters scenes, and just when things start to get really nasty, the show completely changes character. The delivery boy from MacDonalds, until then a fringe figure in the show, undresses and sits down behind the concert grand piano that has just been brought up. After which he Marino Formenti turns out to be called and appears to be a phenomenal concert pianist who plays by heart and in supreme concentration Haydn's 'Sieben Leztzte Wörter' is performed. Just under an hour of concert is that, which the actors listen to as moved as the audience. Despite that Monty Python-image of that naked pianist.
At the end, an angel falls from heaven, dressed in a shroud tunic. Perhaps that will soon be on sale at Zara.
Seen on 21 September at the Rotterdam Schouwburg. Still to be seen there on 22 September. Information
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