We have forgotten how it hurts us. We go out agitated, breathless. Pina Bausch (1940-2009) gave us a ball of pain. her name blue beard, In 1977, four years after the arrival of the German choreographer at the head of the Tanztheater Wuppertal. It caused a scandal at the time. She is still shivering. It’s a cruel and unforgiving young woman’s play, as Pina Bausch looks through the keyhole and breaks the door. Not a drop of blood, but the pungent smell seemed to stick to the dead leaves covering the stage.
This Essence of Pina Bausch, without fear or taboo, is on display until July 2 at the Théâtre du Châtelet in collaboration with the Théâtre de la Ville, in Paris. In the tidy space imagined by photographer Rolf Porzik (1944-1980), it’s hard to believe this masterpiece is 45 years old as its ferocity remains intact. Thanks to the historical dancers Helena Bacon and Barbara Kaufman, directors of the rehearsal, the pure nightmare of this murderous journey to the castle, brought to life by more than twenty-five great artists, is brought back to life, to the music composed by Bela Bartok in 1911 (1881-1945). For this opera, the only one of her tracks, the Hungarian artist is fixed to the script written by playwright Béla Palaz, according to Perrault’s story. He conceived within six months the frightening outcome of this tragic collision between Barbie Blue and his wife Judith, who would join the group of wives behind the Seventh Door.
It’s all in the title (or almost). The show, summarized under the hero’s single name, is called bluebird; While listening to a tape of Béla Bartok’s opera “The Duke of Bluebeard’s Castle” (blue beard; Listen to the tape of Bella Bartok’s opera “Bluebird Castle”). Sign added, “A piece of Pina Bausch”. A way to determine that the original story serves as a starting point for the choreographer’s vision. Capturing this story of love, curiosity, and horror, she expands its subject matter to include her personal vision of the fierce and unsatisfying relationships between men and women at the heart of her work for nearly forty years.
Fear hangs over this unleashed play that depicts the couple, love we don’t talk about, in a carnage of angry hugs.
Pina Bausch’s genius idea is to plant the hero in front of a tape recorder, pause, and then replay the tape to arouse his desire. This addiction to musical stimulus, emphasizing confinement in a frenzied cycle, leads to countless repetitive sequences whose brutality, far from exhaustion, is compounded. The introduction gives impetus to this drama. Judith (Tai Qin Yu) is lying stiff on the ground, both arms outstretched, her man (Reginald Lefebvre) is walking on his back with this package suffocating him. He gets up, restarts the music, and starts over. After a few minutes, he got to her knees between her legs and, while straightening, forced her to continue. She climbs on him, he pushes her away. Overwhelmed by the dominant, predatory and prey, it starts over. Pina Bausch does not give gifts to anyone.
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