by Caroline Baglioni, Michelangelo Bellani
with Caroline Baglioni
director Michelangelo Bellani
lighting Gianni Staropoli
sound Valerio Di Loreto
artistic collaboration Marianna Masciolini
technical supervision Luca Giovagnoli
a project by Caroline Baglioni/Michelangelo Bellani
with the support of the Teatro Stabile dell’Umbria
artistic residences Straligut Teatro, Re.te Ospitale – Compagnia teatrale Petra, Terni Festival/Indisciplinarte, Teatro delle Ariette
A young woman and a story to engrave. Engrave in the memory or re-create in the imagination. Before our eyes a framework and a father, a man of sixty and sixty years of a man who has had temporary amnesia and lives in a camper. In between, a seven year gap. And an era of resentment. It is only the voice of the young woman which engraves, composes the dialogue, prefigures the memory of a past or only the illusion that one day everything can really happen. An original text, although with a careful gaze, some may perceive a slight distorted and far echo from the old Oedipus at Colonus by Sophocles: the hero of bad luck, the "pleader who brings salvation" driven away and damned, blindly roams accompanied by his daughter Antigone.
A story to decode, to recompose with the objects in the distance for the outline of the surreal dream. A subterranean story to bring to light.
Only at the end it is uncovered. In the open of a sacred wood, that is not a wood, but a park in the outskirts, and perhaps only the abandonment is sacred.
Like in Bergman’s "wild strawberries", the mirror of memory becomes an experience of authenticity in which reconciliation takes place in what were unthinkable and unsuitable ways. Forgive. Forgive oneself. Come into being. At sunset. In the West.
Caroline Baglioni, Michelangelo Bellani
Not born yet is a contemporary story. Likely, although perhaps not entirely realistic. Not entirely. to the extent that the theater can barter the relevance, the true-similarity with imagination.
It is a story that reflects on forgiveness. Forgive means to forgive someone else, but in a certain sense, if not in first place, it means to forgive yourself. Give yourself a way out, a possibility of liberation from a condition of suffering. In our story it regards a daughter’s forgiveness toward her father or that of a father and daughter regarding their own existence.
Psychoanalytically forgive can mean freed from guilt. Which guilt? In this time of Lacan’s evaporation of the father, the children do not have a chance for generational clash. Fathers of an old age which apparently never age, children are simply peers. (Oedipus’ daughters are also his sisters). Even the Father of our story, like the old Sophocles hero, deals with surviving completely void of a universal sense of order. But doesn’t every child ask for this sense more or less consciously? What the daughter cannot forgive the father is not, therefore, the fact of not having loved her, but not having managed to give order to chaos. The paradox of this time period seems to be all summed up here: "My father, is not born yet".
If this then, seems to be the universal condition of man, mutual forgiveness is the only means of salvation possible. From this point of view, ´sacred´ is the space opened by authenticity, of hearing without a name. A dimension, as Kierkegaard recalls, which surpasses every ethical question since it is beyond true and false, as well as beyond good and evil: it is a space of love.