The Sala Verdi brings a season of Latin America theatre to Montevideo.
First up is Teatro Matacandelas, from Medellin in Colombia. Theirs
is a defiantly Brechtian theatre with a Victorian Gothic twinge. I can’t follow
all of it. The story deals with a presumably fictional philosopher, Fernando
Gonzalez. He stands for mayor and is rejected. He lives on the finca that will
later belong to Pablo Escobar. He has a curious affair with a Frenchwoman when
he spends time in Marseilles as a counsel.
Above and beyond the quixotic narrative, there’s a makeshift theatre
practice at work. In much the same way as last night’s Henry 4/5 in the Solis,
a chorus appears at the start urging the audience to use their imagination to
convert the empty space into the valleys of Antioquia or a Mediterranean port.
Harsh lights isolate spaces on the stage for the performers to inhabit. The
acting has a heightened, declaratory hue. The philosopher barks out his thoughts,
as do many of those he meets along the way. Scenes shift rapidly. Music starts
to punctuate proceedings. About an hour in, things become more and more gothic.
A version of the devil appears, bathed in red light, emanating a powdery glow.
Later the whole of the Catholic church takes over. The theatre is bathed in
incense and smoke. There’s so much smoke that the alarm goes off. But the
philosopher’s oratory style drowns it out. There’s a deliberate sense of
ramshackle chaos on stage. Jesus makes an appearance and you’ve got no idea
what’s going to happen next.
Teatro Matacandelas create a rough theatre out of nothing which appears
to be influenced by Brecht, would be admired by Brook and yet also emanates out
of the rhythms and customs of Medellin. It’s vibrant, non-naturalistic and full
of the unexpected, even if to the non-native speaker there are moments which
are plain baffling. The final words of Fernando González are read out by the
whole cast in a hyped up final scene, books being ripped to pieces, like something
out of a lost work by Blaise Cendras.
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