theatre again, after all. today i went to see "From the Life of the Marionettes" at the Thalia-Theater in hamburg. hard stuff, i have to admit, but with an ingmar-bergman-film as background, one shouldn't think anything else. hard stuff, but fascinating.
a man, leading a totally normal life on the outside, suddenly kills a prostitute and calls his psychiatrist (who is a friend of his all the same) afterwards. thus the investigation starts, and we find ourselves catched in a web of angst, suppressed desires, strange nightmares and failed relationships. ingmar bergman was psychologic drama, and the stage-adaptation of his film equals his intense pictures on screen.
the stage is a cage, but it's not golden. its blood-red, and the red bars made out of wooden planks remind a lot of the ones they use in sweden for those nice little red houses. it's the middle class this is all about, successful people who can afford all the luxury they like and still cannot find peace, luck, happiness, whatever it is you want to call it. things go wrong. everything looks nice and happy, easy and calm from the outside, but things are brooding under people's skin, and most of the time it's the emptiness that is brooding. until something triggers the angst, the desires, the nightmares...
a man, leading a totally normal life on the outside, suddenly kills a prostitute and calls his psychiatrist (who is a friend of his all the same) afterwards. thus the investigation starts, and we find ourselves catched in a web of angst, suppressed desires, strange nightmares and failed relationships. ingmar bergman was psychologic drama, and the stage-adaptation of his film equals his intense pictures on screen.
the stage is a cage, but it's not golden. its blood-red, and the red bars made out of wooden planks remind a lot of the ones they use in sweden for those nice little red houses. it's the middle class this is all about, successful people who can afford all the luxury they like and still cannot find peace, luck, happiness, whatever it is you want to call it. things go wrong. everything looks nice and happy, easy and calm from the outside, but things are brooding under people's skin, and most of the time it's the emptiness that is brooding. until something triggers the angst, the desires, the nightmares...
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