 “…seven days with an Idiot…” or non-existing chapters of Fedor Dostoevskiy’s novel after KLIM’s play
Eighth Day AN IDIOT
Directed by Vladislav Troickyi
The language of the performance is Russian
Characters and performers
“… our individuality is a set of seriated mistakes our personality is a courage to not repeat them…” Christmas. Scantily lit room, candle in the window and him, whose true name is an Idiot. He is waiting. He knows she won’t come but he is waiting. And we are waiting together with him. After all, there is no difference between dreams and real occurrences as there is no time in that labyrinth where our souls wander in search of “highest synthesis of life” getting to some places and rooms where the same things happen all the time. This difference between visible and outward and invisible and inner and this inconsistency between his vision and what the those around him have been always seeing he is trying to explain to us, explaining it, thus, to himself. There is neither fear of the death nor regret left in him – only the compassion for others and for himself. “…only one thing is convincing for me this is the only way to be a bird life on a verge at the breaking point of strength and resources when death follows hard on your heels you got born you had learned to fly so fly…”
One act. 1 hour |
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