A room with a couple of chairs, a table, a bar cabinet. A woman who waits. The door opens and a man enters. They talk to each other, they drink, they eat, they don’t understand each other, they dance. She asks him to leave, and he leaves, closing the door behind him. The room is left again with a couple of chairs, a table, a bar cabinet. A woman, the same woman who waits. The door opens and a man enters, a different man. They talk to each other, they drink, they eat, they don’t understand each other, they dance. She asks him to leave, and he leaves, closing the door behind him. Again the room with a couple of chairs, a table, a bar cabinet. A woman, the same woman who waits. The door opens and a man enters, a different man… Like this up to a hundred times. One hundred repetitions of a single scene. Always the same and always different. Always accurate and always changing.
I was lucky this weekend to enjoy the memorable ‘The second woman’ in Seville. Well, luck is actually having Manolo Llanes at the helm of the Teatro Central, with his permanent commitment to experimentation and scenic radicalism, here co-producing the work. There is nothing like it The second woman: twenty-four hours in a row with a gigantic actress, María Hervás, who represents the same scene over and over again with up to a hundred different and unpredictable men, not actors. We spectators came and went, we went to rest for a while or have a drink but we soon returned, hypnotized by the addictive proposal.
