made in italy doesn’t tell a tale. It faces ironically and sarcastically our times’ contradictions. The show proceeds in accumulation. Photographs, condenses and gobbles up what surrounds us: continuous messages that we receive, the need to record, classify and arrange everything. The show proceeds through combinations, intersections and sense displacements. Scenes do not start and do not finish, are continuously interrupted. Bitten. Images and words raise and constantly die. Actors don’t act. Music is always present and dictates logic behind events. Like in a video clip.

made in italy is a tangle of words, a tangle of icons.
For a pop theatre, for a rock theatre, for a punk theatre.

A theatre rich of input and images: a how overabundant of suggestions but without solutions.