Would you mind giving us an insight into what your show/event/performance is?
The show was inspired by the death of my father almost four years ago. At the time, I didn’t really know how to deal with grief. I’d never thought about death as something tangible or immediate. It had always been more of a philosophical idea to me. It’s funny because I’ve always been drawn to death aesthetically. I’m a huge heavy metal fan, I love horror films, cemeteries, gothic art… but that’s very different from experiencing a real loss. So I started reading everything I could about death, dying, grief, mourning, and the ways different cultures approach the end of life. I became completely fascinated, maybe even a little obsessed. Over time, it became a way to connect with other people and create a space where we can talk about death openly, without fear or awkwardness. I think that’s what the show is today. It’s a meditation on death, but it’s also full of warmth and humor. People are often surprised by how life-affirming it can feel.
Tell us about the creative team and the process involved?
I’m very fortunate to be surrounded by incredibly talented people. I live in São Paulo, Brazil, which has a really vibrant theatre community, and everyone involved in this show is someone I met through previous projects. Over the years, we built relationships based on trust and a shared way of making theatre. I could talk about everyone on the team because they’re all extraordinary, but there’s one story I especially love, which is about my co-director, Vitor. He was actually my student almost ten years ago. I’m also a movement teacher, and he trained with me. At first, I invited him to be my assistant director because I usually direct my own work. But as we developed the piece, it became obvious that he wasn’t just assisting, he was shaping the artistic direction of the show alongside me. So I invited him to become my co-director. I always joke that I gave him a promotion… just without the pay rise.
How does it feel coming to (back to) the Fringe?
This is my first time performing at the Fringe, and it feels incredible, but also overwhelming. It’s a lot. Right now I’m rehearsing like crazy because I decided to do the show in English, which I think is the best decision, but also a stressful one. So it comes in waves. Every day is a different emotion, but overall, I’m incredibly excited.
With shows from all over the world at the Fringe, what sets yours apart?
I think the show speaks to something we often avoid, which is death. It’s one of the few experiences we all share, and yet it’s still incredibly difficult to talk about. That makes it feel very relevant to me. What I’m most proud of is that we’ve taken a subject people usually associate with sadness or fear and turned it into something humorous, aesthetically pleasing, and, I hope, deeply moving. I’m also really excited that this is a site-specific production. Performing it inside a room in a historic church, next to an ancient cemetery, adds another layer to the experience. The space isn’t just a venue, it becomes part of the storytelling. So bringing this show to the Fringe, and especially to St Cuthbert’s, feels like a perfect match. I honestly can’t imagine a better place for this piece to live.
On that, is there anything in the production or production team’s backgrounds which influences the way the show is performed or told?
My background is in what we call Third Theatre, which is a very experimental, devised approach to making theatre. I had the privilege of working with Odin Teatret, the company founded by Eugenio Barba, whose work comes out of the tradition of Jerzy Grotowski. That lineage has definitely shaped the way I think about theatre, and I think its DNA is present in everything I create. I’m also a movement teacher, director, performer, and researcher. I studied corporeal mime for many years, so my relationship with the body is always at the center of my work. Even when I’m working with text, I’m thinking physically.
Is there anything specific you’re hoping the audience will take away?
We had a six-month run of the show in São Paulo, performing inside a chapel at Redentor Cemetery, and honestly, I had no idea how audiences would respond. It’s not exactly the easiest subject to invite people into. What surprised us was how many conversations the show sparked. Almost every performance was followed by people staying outside the chapel, talking to each other, sharing personal stories about loss, grief, or even their own fears about death. It was incredibly moving to witness. I also received so many messages from audience members saying the show had changed the way they thought about mortality. That’s really my hope for the show. There’s a saying in Bhutan that if you want to live a meaningful life, you should think about death five times a day. What it really means to me is that avoiding thinking about death makes death more frightening. I hope people leave wanting to talk openly about death: about how they want to live the end of their lives, about grief, about palliative care, about the right to a good death, about assisted dying, and all these subjects that we tend to treat as taboo.
Hang in with Rilke/Ivo because, you never know, maybe one of these letters was written to them.
Your Ideal audience is in attendance, who’s watching? Or more importantly – who isn’t…?
I honestly want everyone to see the show, because death is one of the very few things that connects all of us. Every person will die, and every person will lose someone they love. I know many people come to the Fringe looking for circus, comedy, or something completely different, and this might not be what they’d normally choose. But I’d love for them to come as well. One of the most surprising experiences during our run in São Paulo was having children in the audience, some around ten or twelve years old. Their questions afterwards were extraordinary. Children can be incredibly insightful when it comes to death; they often approach it with an honesty that adults sometimes lose. The challenge is that we tend to shut those conversations down because we’re uncomfortable with them. For the Fringe, we’ve set the recommended age at 12+, but we encourage parents to bring younger audiences only if they’re willing to continue the conversation afterwards. The show is likely to raise questions, reflections, and discussions on the way home, and I think that’s actually one of its strengths.
It’s an intense month, so where you’re able, how do you plan to relax, and are there any other shows you intend to see or want to recommend?
I don’t plan to relax. No, I’m kidding. I definitely want to see as many shows as I possibly can; that’s one of the best parts of being at the Fringe. Specifically, physical and devised theatre from different parts of the world. But I’m also going to have to be sensible because I’m performing 18 shows in a row without a day off. Our schedule is interesting: Some performances are at noon, others are at 8 p.m., so I’ll be trying to fit in other shows while also making sure I get enough sleep and eat properly. And, unfortunately, I think I’ll have to stay away from the pubs… at least most of the time! Maybe I’ll celebrate properly once the run is over.
Whale Fall or Song to Dance With My Death will run at Venue 122, Lindisfarne Room at St Cuthbert’s Church
Runs: August 10th – August 27th at Various times
Photo credit – Danilo Apoena
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