Theatre Workshop on Fisrt World War – or just war.
” There was some smoke, I didn’t feel like myself anymore. I opened my eyes wide: they filled up with tears. I will drink from my shoulder canteen what I have always feared it would be my last sip for long. I am not thinking. I am doing. I am performing the usual acts while praying and hoping that it will not be my last time either. I am afraid. I am thinking of home, of who is waiting for me, of the place where I am. . . and on that very moment I no more feel like myself.”
The horrors of the first world war seen through the lens of a gas mask: disfigured, unrecognizable, inhuman faces. Animals first trapped in the maze of a trench, then in the labyrinth of oblivion, of forgetfulness: animals who are guardians of a truth that is very hard to accept. A single, only, large crowd who hoped that they would come out of darkness, that there would be an end of a story which wasn’t worth telling.
There are different ways to tell a war: we will start from a Greek myth. A frightful dream of a creature too beastlike to be a man and too human to be only an animal: the Minotaur.