Cassandra is a writer who is speechless the day she has to compose and to read his mother's eulogy. The disappearance of the mother figure triggers a process of selfcomic-absurd analysis in which Cassandra tries to find her place, to understand her own femininity, ironically referring to inherited social norms. The performance becomes a journey through the mind of this woman in a sarcastic and provocative note.
A brave, intense performance, a perfect tuning between the word and the body story, and I would say an extraordinary performance by the two actresses.
Femininity reveals itself as a real test of endurance, a continuous and unseen competition, not only with oneself, but also with all the female role models around us, who constantly, even obsessively, suggest to us how we should be.
Cassandra is a dramatized confession, steeped in authenticity, full of a humor meant to hide the tears.
You laugh, you are amused, you are a little frightened by the substantial percentage in which you recognize yourself in the descriptions spoken amplified by the voice of the character with double presence, you have a shiver of empathy and guilt, you have time for reflection and time for strictly aesthetic pleasure.(...)
The last spoken line of the performance remains to reverberate in the minds of the spectators; of the women, especially, invited to assume the legacy of freedom, to decide to consciously cut the umbilical cord that still binds them to the patterns of femininity of previous generations.
