Ivan Dobtchev / Margarita Mladenova

With La Danse de mort (The Dance of Death), a symbolic play which Strindberg wrote in 1900, the Theatro Sfumato keeps on commenting on dysfunctioning relationships between men and women and more particularly on the vanity of marriage and the impossibility of communication it entails.

General between Froken Julie and Death Dance: unromantic, immodestly- fly glimpse to the Human between Eros and Tanatos.

Froken Julie : lower away in the erotic as nefarious and humiliating. The death as an exit. But there is well still “Say that you love me!”
Years later Death Dance.

- Can you love the ugly face of fellow-man? (Dostoevsky)

- I cannot, this is my over-forces. (Strindberg)

The love is shed with the hate. The hate as heat, shape of life, a slashing element. The death doesn't come, for it comes, is long ago here long ago.
Death while still living. Alive death. It dances with us. We dance with her.
As if everything alive - everything alive - everything alive (Chekhov) has
been exterminated and rest the Earth the last three: Edgar, Alice and Kurt. Sufferers from the same cattle - plague that a quarantine post cannot end off. Sufferers with hate.

She kept the pulse of the rock hearts, she governed “the disappointed mind, weak to react to her”.

The big civilization project for the Human with capital fails with the human. The collapse of the Super Human (Nietzsche) until the animal.

From this to the absurd-ridiculous in the tragic, until the “End-Game” (Beckett) the step is one therefore.

When the Spirit is dead “stays in so much noise for one shopping cart with crap, so much noise!” (Alice)

Margarita Mladenova