No importa cuantas veces lo hayamos visto, queremos una vez más presenciar como muere nuestra heroína por unos ideales que admiramos pero somos incapaces de ser consecuentes con ellos. Quizás porque queremos verlos realizados a través del artista de la escena, tal vez porque quisiéramos destruirlos para que nos dejaran de atormentar porque cada vez se alejan más de nosotros. Tampoco importa si vive en Cartago o España, si vivió ayer o hace miles de años. Lo que importa es que está ahí frente a nosotros recordándonos con su voz, aunque sea por instantes, que estamos vivos y que aún podemos, así sea desde nuestra butaca, experimentar un amor tan intenso como el que te puede llevar a la muerte.
Staged performances, whether spoken, sung or danced, have their roots in an ancient ritual: we sacrifice, as if the stage was an altar, the being we are, in order to transform ourselves into a superior being that is more in line with our own ideals. Thus, for over 2,500 years, we've been attending performances where we offer the life of the beautiful maiden in sacrifice to our own hungry animal nature, tirelessly looking for answers. We seek to survive, no question about it. We need to rescue from within ourselves that vital energy that we vaguely remember from our childhood. The energy that would tear us out of bed every day to go live the day with intensity and passion. That primal energy that sometimes seems to have gotten lost in the mists of time, or perhaps even to have died.
No matter how many times we’ve seen it, we want to watch our heroine again, as she dies for ideals that we admire but cannot usually live up to. Maybe it’s because we want to see those ideals realized onstage through the performer; or maybe because we’d like to obliterate them so they stop tormenting us, as they grow farther from our reach. It doesn’t matter whether our heroine lived in Carthage or Spain, or whether she lived yesterday or thousands of years ago. What matters is that she is there, right in front of our eyes, reminding us with her voice, just for an instant, that we are still alive, that we can still, even if only from our seats, experience love so intense that it can kill.