Another bit, with the usual many many thanks to Eulalia and l'bogo, who do all the work!
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The conductor listens to me, he seems to approve of my idea, but he advises me to use not just the two oboes but also four of the string section, that will play in scordatura, giving a sense of extreme tension, a pair of cymbals and a drum - the sound will have to increase, a crescendo from barely perceptible to fortissimo, like a thunderclap, at the moment when the veil is torn apart. I agree, the rest of the players can go out for a short break.
I call the dancers over to explain that two of them will have to interpret the imprisoned souls behind the curtain, a very young ballerina and her partner volunteer enthusiastically, the others can rest while we rehearse it.
Everything is ready, the architect starts recording the video, the instruments sing out the searing note that rises in intensity, the dancers begin to touch the fabric of the curtain with their hands, the spotlights highlighting their gestures, projecting shadows below them, then with their legs and the bodies, they seem to be striving to cross the barrier. At the stroke of thunderclap, they quickly pull the curtain, which opens from the top, sideways to the wings, disappearing as if their souls had flown. The whole sequence has taken less than a minute, leaving the scene in the dark. The conductor applauds, he is convinced that the idea will give a special touch before the crucial moment when the funeral procession enters.
Now it's my turn, the scene that I’ve been so anxious about, not today, but when I'm stretched out naked on the framework of stakes, like the ones they’ve just used during the fight scene, and they will carry me lifeless, to the sound of a funeral march of profound pathos, from the rear of the stage towards the proscenium, and then turn towards the wing on stage right.
The eight bearers are ready, the frame is on the ground. I position myself on the rods, feel myself being raised, lifting ...
'No! No! I risk falling... it needs an extra rod in it, crosswise, and a couple more carriers. I can’t be rigid, supporting myself, my body must look floppy, almost sagging. '
We repeat the scene, while the architect diligently resumes the video ...
'Don’t cancel the failed try, I’ll have to show it to Madame to explain what I’m recommending.'
So, right, now I can take a pose of abandonment in death, lifted up on the shoulders of my bearers. My legs, slightly apart, rest on two longitudinal rods, my bare feet falling free with my ankles resting on the first crossing rod; under my thighs the second rod prevents the weight of my body letting me sink downwards, as does the one supporting my kidneys; the fourth is behind my armpits, allowing me to keep my arms spread out falling, my head falls back with my hair loose.
'Oh no! We can’t do it this way! If you carry me horizontally, the audience will see only my open legs! No! No! You’ll have to lower yourselves there in front, and you behind, raise my shoulders higher. And we’d better not take this line, from the back of the stage straight in front of the audience... remember that I’ll be naked, it would become an obscene performance! We’ll start from the left, then move towards the centre, and finally we turn right towards the wings. Okay?'
So we resume to the trial, now I’ll have to hook myself to the stake that’s supporting me at shoulder level, but I can do that in a natural way, where I am stretched out on my 'cross'. The funeral march, slow and full of tension, accompanies the 'promenade' of my burial...
All the dancers observe, intrigued. At the end everyone applauds, the conductor with his baton, and the orchestra with their instruments, beat on their music stands as a sign of approval. I may have passed this test, but Madame will still have to agree to the changes that have proved necessary.
I exit behind the wings, they welcome me with a cheer. But how will it be when I'm naked on the stage of La Fenice? My legs are trembling at the thought.
'Did you get it all?'
'Yes, and I’ve taken pictures with my camera too – I can show you the bluetooth right now.'
'Let me see, I'm curious!'
'Here you are, so fabulous!'
I look with amazement at the images that flow by on the screen, As well as an architect, he's a good photographer too.
It makes a certain impression to be seen in video: when we look in a mirror, our image is turned falsely from left to right, so we often go wrong when we're practising at the barre in front of the mirror: we try to change our position, only those who are watching us from a distance can detect our inaccuracies, and we must not complain if our choreographer takes us back and makes us repeat the exercises.