Fuck me is the end of a trilogy started in 2012 by Marina Otero with ‘Andrea’ and ‘Remember 30 years to live 65 minutes’. The Argentine choreographer and dancer premiered this work at the Buenos Aires International Festival (FIBA) 2020.
During the thirty minute delay with respect to the show’s start time, a recital of songs by Sandro entertained the public that attended the revival of this show that began from the stalls, with the dancers “infiltrated” among the spectators, undressing complete in the seat and going up on stage with challenging nonchalance.
Microphone in hand, Otero burst onto the scene, deprived of mobility due to a herniated disc operation that she herself narrated in detail, and that prevented her from being the exclusive protagonist of this work, but the choreographer recounted how despite everything she went ahead and resorted to unfolding of his figure in five dancers.
With a chaotic bombardment of images and sound, always with the confrontational and transgressive style of its author, Fuck me is a work centered on the body, injured that of Otero and ‘reified’ that of the dancers, after the initial surprise caused by the raw and close exposure of nudity, as a supervening naturalization of it.
“What body will be able to tell the story of my life until my death? Only mine”, was the postulate that enabled Otero to immerse himself in a rather grotesque hyperreferentiality, which did not always arouse interest or curiosity. It was difficult to recognize the girl from the videos in the current dark and violent character, with ‘greasy aesthetics’ (Otero dixit); and the unhappy inclusion of her failed investigation into the life of her grandfather, a soldier to whom she owes her name, turned out to be a hackneyed resource. Everything, narrated by the dancer in a monotone and sentencing tone, in her double autobiographical role and as authoritarian director.
Video and live performance operating simultaneously, more videos of Andrea and Remembering 30 years…, megaphone and garbage bags already used in those works, bodies smashed against the floor or penetrated frantically, incursions through the corridors of the stalls, were some of the the resources used by Otero to expose her narcissism, her aggressive aesthetic concept that ‘she can no longer extract beauty from pain’, her request that they love her, because she does not love herself.
The five dancers accompanied the proposal with a spectacular technical display and dissimilar physiques; noteworthy is the monologue of the Brazilian (Fred Raposo) who confronted a prejudiced stereotype of masculine beauty.
After the applause, Otero began an endless race in a circle on stage, absolutely naked. “Leave whenever you want, I’m going to keep running” he warned. Life and fiction confused in a whole symbol.
