El coronel no tiente quien le escriba
A man has been waiting for his veteran’s pension for fifteen years, and meanwhile lives in time stood still, unaware of the slow deterioration of things around him. Adapted from a short story by Gabriel García Márquez, a harrowing song to a Latin America where everything is carried to excess. In the midst of muddy swamps laced with apparitions, actions of a rough-hewn beauty that overlap as if in a dream, bloody rituals throbbing under the heat and obsessive music, the colonel remains riveted to his hammock like a cocoon. You can’t eat illusions, his wife reproaches him. You can’t eat them, but they do nourish you, he retorts.
“From the colonel’s home, we see the walls opening up, the swamp widening, the rain sweeping it away, wreaking havoc on furniture and possessions, the void growing, solitude setting in as their fate…. The tragedy of a man and a few beings despoiled of their wealth, their hopes betrayed.” -Carlos Giménez, director
Grupo de Teatro Rajatabla From a short story by Gabriel García Márquez Adapted and directed by Carlos Giménez
