I might not be equipped to thoroughly understand “Preto” (“Black”) as I've never been part of the colonizing Europe. I should understand “Preto” to its core as I have grown up in an occupied country. Or, I, as a white man, am part of the colonizing Europe regardless of my own history. And should therefore not pretend to understand, to claim that discriminating against a nationality is the same as against a race.
What I do understand is that “Preto” creates an aesthetic universe on stage that doesn't derail to the end. A movable screen, some chairs facing the stage where the actors can witness what their colleague is doing, going through, thinking. A man with a guitar in the corner of the stage and microphones that are constantly repositioned so that the performers are followed by them both as mediums to make them heard and as almost harassingly demanding judges of their testimony. People running around (there's never a direct line to the end-point, one always has to approach the purpose making a detour), people throwing themselves to the mercy of expectations just to reclaim their will a moment later.
“Preto” is a tour de force perhaps not even so much thanks to what is said but how the aesthetic world created around these words is speaking for itself.
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