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by Cristian Ceresoli (Author)
You have to laugh. It is a tragedy in three movements: The Thighs, The Dick, The Fame and a counter-movement: Italy.
An actress creates a physical and vocal mask challenging a provocative, scandalous and beastly text. Words might be sung, howled and shrieked but a chant never emerges. In her naked physicality she tells a personal story in an unbroken flow of thoughts/words rendered as sounds and movement. The deafening screams being choked. Appeased. Imploded. This female onstage offers herself up in a feast, ready to be torn apart by anyone. A poetic piece born of the flesh that returns to the flesh, captured in a tightly-sealed aesthetic. Applause required. The Shit is driven by a desperate attempt to pull ourselves out of the mud, the latest products of the cultural genocide aptly described by Pasolini since the modern consumer society began taking form. A totalitarianism, according to Pasolini, even more repressive than the one of the Fascist era, because it's capable of crushing us softly.Cristian Ceresoli was born in Gaza in 1975. He lives and works wherever he can: Edinburgh, Turin, London, Naples, Milan, Lenola or New York. After working as a waiter, librarian, farmhand, performer, factory worker, and street stall hawker, he began writing in 2005.