Scene 10 The Chief lets everybody. The song: "The less people - the more oxygen" Scene 11 The dialogue about Motherland. The chief lets the one in the cage. Scene 12 The humiliated in the cage stays face to face with the people and starts humiliating them with even more cruelty and violence, than the chief. Finally, he makes everyone sing the marching song. Marching Song about the freedom Shit, shit we'll never see freedom we shit upon our freedom we shit upon our fate because we're a musical people And we do them in the mouth And they do us in the ass Our ass The heavens doggy-style. Ate, shat And black earth Ours is the richest land Yet we die of hunger Shit, shit we'll never see freedom The one in the cage cries out to god for compassion for him and for the people. Scene 13 The chorus sings the folk psalm.
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He ends up with the opinion that modern chicken live in concentration camp. Scene 5 The Chief demands to stop talking. Scene 6 After the Chief leaves to his closet, the neighbors start dialogue. The people start to seek for the guilty ones. They end up with the opinion that yogis are guilty in everything. Scene 7 "Brain Wash". The talks end up with the Chief making the night alarm and call-over. Scene 8 The one in the cage shows discontent. Scene 9 The Chief proposes to clean the cage if somebody is discontent and asks if somebody wants to go out with him. The one in the cage says series that he annual would leave but he stays. Finally, the one in the cage says that they have no right to flood him out because this is his Motherland.
Soon you forget you are theatre spectator parts identifying yourself with these people fleeing from themselves they are us ukrainians, trying to close their eyes tightly and to create home coziness amidst the mire, the swamp sucking us each moment of our lives. Our duty is to stand up and resist it, rise up our heads and fight it keeping our human dignity. Then you sit under the iron bars and look up at bewitching choir making the impression of many headed metaphysic creature and lone king Oedipus as time stops and you become the part of Mystery, listening to inexpressibly beautiful oratorio and standing still together with. Text: Scenes from the klim's play dog's Cage" Scene 1 Night in the prison after working day. (Radio and television: broadcasting). A single man in his closet in the night after the standoff remembers starvation times of his childhood as a greatest happiness, when everything was real: water, and bread, and eggs, which had smell, taste, and hen were hitching chickens. Now and bread is not like bread, and water is not like water.
From ashes we'll be raised again by The lord Most High The avalanche of fate that cannot be stopped befalls upon Oedipus and his people with all shattering power word wiping off everything that ought to fall down: "The curse of your father and mother. And all that was erected is destroyed again and again and the extreme limit of despair and the dreadful enlightenment: "o, god's light! This is the last time that I see thee! In defiance of the destiny i've got eyesight, i have called my mother my beloved wife And i've killed the one who gave me life". By putting out his eyes Oedipus who can now see truly becomes the grain that perishes but brings fruit by its death; that sanctified armor thanks to which the light of blessing will be poured out upon all the nation and the temple of faith. Who will you be those days In far forsaken land Where one wont find the shelter from Gods hand, Alone, in desert's sand, In haze? At first you sit up on iron bars looking down where in the darkness quiet sounds and flickering lights are being born.
The art of theatre lies in the guessing! . have we got it right this time? We do not know. We try and hope. "The blind man from the one who sees, And from the rich one poor beggar. He'll travel to a strangers land finding his way by fishing-line" The state ruled by oedipus the dance of blind men at the edge of chasm, feast in a midst of a plague, sand castle, brightly colored coffin filled with dead bones - is ought. We wander in the dark since we've lost our way, our holy temple's broken Where should we pray? From the deepest abyss hear, o, god, our cry!
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Or, in the wretchedness of the new-dramatic military warehouse, devoid of beauty, stripped and rotting, smelling of the flowers and damp. Musty e naked body in fire, the metal of the ceiling, cement dust, chains, the fatigue of the old brick of the columns and walls, of the endless echo of the abandoned an unfinished catacomb of the church on the eve of a harsh winter. The essence of drama is always the essence of drama. And we actors remains its students and victims. The question to ourselves book is: are we strong enough to make this fearless psychoanalytical gesture of touch and understanding?
Will we have the reason and spiritual calm to try to hear the Sphinx's riddle? To hear, since in the question lies half the answer. Now this fantastic animal, this theatrical Sphinx may indeed be lord of our fate, trapped in a cage, not a pre-trial detention, not the in confinement, as such. Life is life everywhere. The question is whether theatre can determine where the prophecy can be heard. .
There must be some reason for it and some benefit from it, even if it does not answer the questions we can not escape, but at least helps us in our search for answers to the questions of the next Sphinx to appear before. A drama, in which there will always be more questions than answers. And we do not know the answers. Our very lives are an attempt to answer. So, our oedipus is an attempt, perhaps, not at an answer, but at least at the correct question. This is our fourth attempt at approaching this theatrical Sphinx, in the ukrainian version of ivan Franko.
This is our fourth step. Our fourth time w into confinement. Away from the freedom of shamanic traps for morning and wind, made like buddhist sand mandalas, for the harsh and magnificent burnt - the first step at the festival in Sheshory. The next step, after trying to comprehend it via eastern ritual - a second attempt in the lavra gallery. Myth is myth everywhere . The law is the law everywhere. Wherever it is, in a primeval paradise, or in anger, in war-painted faces, framed by eastern paranja headwear ornamentalism reflected in mirror-like immobility not of the face of the Sphinx, nor the waters of Styx, trying to lure us into its abyss, apparent as the. The actors trying to touch the face of the Sphinx, towards the mystery of the myth of Oedipus.
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so, what is the only way out of the darkness? Without discussion of how and why it happened. Was Freud right, or wrong, forcing this view upon us? Forcing us to look in the mirror. . Returning the Sphinx. This riddle, called "the story of Oedipus" - which we may not like very much, since we are not like that - and that can't happen to us, by definition. . Whether we answer or not, whether we wish it or not, whether we like it or not. After all, why does the theatre exist? .
After all, we hope that our fate is tragic, but it is at best a drama, in art which we ourselves are at fault since, in trying to avoid our fate, we choose the worst option in the end. Often, therefore, our lives are not even human comedy, but a tragic farce. . A tragic farce because, how else are we to call that which we do, knowing its mortal danger? Because that's how it happened in the early twentieth century: we, or rather, our cultural consciousness was immersed for a century in the myth of an attempt to avoid fate. . Victory over the Sphinx, with a simple answer to a simple question. Acquisition of power. Cohabitation with one's mother. Having children in matrimony with her. And of physical darkness, for what good are eyes that do not see and that which they do see only prevents us from hearing the wisdom on the heart? .
natalka bida, viktoriia lytvynenko-iasynovska, igor Postolov. Volodymyr Minenko, tetyana vasylenko, we know, of course, that the human soul is dark. We also know that human fate is a labyrinth, a minefield, an abyss and a prison. We dream of sweet freedom and hope to free ourselves from the sins of our fathers and mothers, all the while knowing in the marrow of our bones that that it is only our illusion, as we do not know whether we can avoid that. And when our happiness or misery may call us to account. We not only do not know, but often think it best not to know, since our fate cannot be avoided. .
Dramatis Personæ, new york:. Collier son company, 190914. New york: m, 2001, introductory note, lines 1499. After plays: Sophocles' "Oedipus The king" (transleted by ivan Franko). Antiutopia from silent majority's life". Dog's cage, directed by Vladislav troitskyi, the language of the performance is Ukrainian. Photo by Olesia morgunets, estate solomiia melnyk, roman Iasynovskyi, music.
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