regia: Roberta Torre
da un soggetto di Roberta Torre e Stefano Michelini
drammaturgia di Igor Esposito e Roberta Torre
Testo Igor Esposito

musiche: Massimiliano Pace
scene: Roberto Crea
costumi: Dora Argento luci
Davide Scognamiglio
personaggi ed interpreti
Aida: Ernesto Tomasini
Amneris: Massimo Vinti
Radames: Rocco Castrocielo
Narratore/Domatore: Salvatore D’Onofrio
Coro: Silvia Ajelli, Aurora Falcone, Giuditta Jesu
assistente alla regia: Daniela Mangiacavallo
coordinamento della produzione: Alfio Scuderi
direttore di scena: Sergio Beghi
ufficio stampa: Roberto Giambrone, Giovannella Brancato
foto di scena: Paolo Galletta
produzione Teatro Biondo Stabile di Palermo – Stagione 2013/2014 prima rappresentazione Palermo, Teatro Biondo, 19 febbraio 2014

Note di regia

Ho reso questa Aida una rilettura fantastica dell’opera verdiana , uno spettacolo che mescola prosa e canzoni ,un mescolamento di generi e mondi artistici diversi. Quello che io ho sempre visto di quest’opera, quello che mi ha affascinato maggiormente oltre sono le brutali psicologie in lotta tra loro di questi personaggi scolpiti a tutto tondo nelle dinamiche dell’amore e del potere. Aida e Amneris sono due donne in lotta per l’amore di un uomo Radames che a sua volta si trova dilaniato tra la ragion di Stato e la ragione del cuore e finisce per non vincere né sull’una né sull’altra.

Sarà la morte a chiedere e chiudere i conti.

Io ho immaginato per la mia Aida un circo dell’Aldilà dove troveranno posto tutti quanti , cristallizzati in quella fatal pietra che tutto raggela, desideri, smanie di potere e anche l’illusione di una Patria e di un Impero che ormai crolla a pezzi. C’è in questa Aida l’Oggi di una civiltà che sta crollando a pezzi , dove riecheggiano solo brandelli dei fasti verdiani .
I concetti di Patria e Gloria si trasformano in elefanti senza peso , bidimensionali e privi di maestosità. Un coro di Volpi Egizie giudica quelli che un tempo erano i Regnanti, invertendo le dinamiche di ruolo.

Qui il Re è nudo e non resta che aspettare per sbranarlo.

Ho scelto due interpreti maschili per i ruoli di Aida e Ammeris perché questo mi assicura un gioco di specchi all’infinito in cui maschile e femminile cambiano di ruolo e si interrogano sulle loro identità”
Oltre al fatto che volevo da anni lavorare con Ernesto Tomasini qui nel ruolo di Aida, una vera star, e ora posso farlo, questo progetto era perfetto per lui”

Roberta Torre

” La voce cantante di Aida ( Ernesto Tomasini) (…)accompagna tutto lo spettacolo modulandone il paesaggio emotivo fino al numero di chiusura, in cui la protagonista diventa macchina cantante, bambola Olimpia che celebra la meccanicità dell’umano mentre il pubblico si specchia nella scenografia visionaria di Roberto Crea.

Così si chiude il circo di Aida: uno spettacolo non confortevole, un ’educazione sentimentale che attraversa il cuore oscuro delle nostre emotività normate per mostrarne l’orrore; e che al tempo stesso fa godere della visione onirica della fuga, incarnata da una voce ribelle che dona un suono nuovo al nostro sentire”
Serena Guarracino, Opera marzo 2014

Director’s note

By Roberta Torre

I thought of this Aida as a journey in which theatre and music could mix, in which there is space for spoken word, musical, chanson, fairy tale. The combination of all these elements takes us to the Circus of the After Life. This is an Aida ripped to pieces, shredded, torn, an Aida that has lost everything except her voice with which she shouts her love for Radamés, warrior puppet and new Blade Runner. She’s only left with a desperation that is out of fashion and an operetta-like jealousy that she shares with a schizophrenic Amneris, on a Vaudeville stage. Love here finds its space and shape in unstable masculine bodies and unfolds like an overflowing river, the only certainty that all the characters have. In this contemporary Aida everybody clings on to whatever they can grab to avoid being crushed: Radamés to his imaginary language, which mixes echoes of Chivalric romance and profanity; Amneris to the unstable and fragile staggering of a human specimen always on the verge of falling; Aida to the circus that she carries inside, full of skeletons in the closet and cruel clowns; the Ring Master to the Dissident Beasts, Egyptian foxes from a dissolute State, echo of a grandeur long transformed in a lie and in need of power. There is heartbreaking fragility in the imprisoned queen Aida. She is left with nothing. The concepts of God and Homeland are only meaningful to her in a circus that mixes everything with no restraint. But at the circus we can all be children again and, sitting next to ghosts, we can look at what we have become, even if for a very short while only. But then, suddenly, the music starts again and we have to return to the Grand Ball.

Dreaming

A fox comes forward through the dark, chased by an invisible hunter. It runs through the crowd, staring, ready to attack. It jumps then suddenly stops. Anxious, in a forest of eyes, it looks for something. Smells the stench of a tired soldier’s flesh. Radamés is asleep and dreams a dream of a restless and timeless night. He dreams of his lost love, the love he never reached, his forbidden love: Aida, the enslaved queen that human conventions want to keep distant. He tells us about his desires, of his birthplace, a land of arms and poems. He speaks in his language set in diamonds and excrements, telling us about the war awaiting him and how he cannot but be right. To war then! Let it be war and may arms and legs fly around alongside eyes and thoughts. May this war bring us blood and fear and desires but, most of all, may it bring a Victor as every war demands. Amneris is waiting for Aida but she seems to be late. All women love to look their best, all women love making others wait; it’s always been like this and it will always be the same. The meeting between the two rivals unfolds on a Vaudeville stage, it reveals a secret, wearing the perfume of deceit. The evil Amneris now knows that Aida loves only Radamés. Death is already peeking through a bright red long skirt. There are three of them and all of them men. They are in love and they love like men know how: they love with passion and desire, they love with jealousy and fear, they love with violence and stab-wounds, they simply love and there is nothing more to say. Aida cries with no tears, she knows that no one can pay attention to her, she knows too well that love owes its own price to loneliness.

Radamés betrayed his Homeland and he must pay for it, for everybody knows that our Homeland is the only one that should be honored and respected and it should never be abandoned for love. “But where is this homeland – the puppet/soldier seems to ask himself – where is it if I’ve never seen it? I have only seen the vast stretch of rags and blood, of nameless bodies. A predestined compass has already (shamefully!) chosen who the winner will be, even before the battle has started.”

No armor can protect us anymore and Radamés knows that. His crime won’t be taken away from him, not even by the kiss he refused to give Amneris, for it is mysterious and officiated as a ritual, as a glimmer of hope. It is only meaningless repentance, required with loud voice, demanded before the altar. It is the crime of being born, the crime of having loved, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

It’s the day of reckoning. We stand before the circus’ big top, soon the clowns will let us in, someone will take us by the hand, others will take us for a ride, others will simply take us, to finally give us back all the opulent, glorious, sordid and sublime foolishness of a story that repeats itself since the world begun and that we never tire of listening to. Life.

Aida cambia sesso – Anna Bandettini, La Repubblica

Aida di Roberta Torre

L’Aida di Roberta Torre: viaggio allucinato di passioni ribelli

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