I was intrigued to see in the theater bob pop, a cathodic geek that I like, a journalist and television scriptwriter, a writer and many other things who, moreover, is named after my idol, SpongeBob. During this weekend Bob Pop begins the theatrical season of La Latina with his monologue the other days.
He published a book of the same name that collected the diaries he wrote during the time he collaborated with Buenafuente on TV; When he took him to the stage, Andrés Lima lent him a hand in the stage direction and premiered it in 2021 at the Teatro del Barrio and, although it is tiring to do so (he suffers from multiple sclerosis), he replaces it from time to time as is the case.
The monologue is very simple, better for a small stage than for La Latina, because of scenery and other scenic elements are scarce: a colorful upholstered chair where he sits, surrounded by small tables full of books, under the light of a floor lamp. He doesn’t need more, Bob Pop begins to leave and from minute two the laughter of the respectable begins to be heard.
[Bienvenido, Bob, por Ignacio Echevarría]
After half an hour you wonder how it is possible that by himself, without special effects or video projections or other bagpipes, has hooked you to his speech in the best tradition of storytelling. You also wonder why you find it so funny.
In general, I am distrustful of television figures who, in order to monetize their fame, put on a theatrical monologue to see if it works. But the stalls are made of foxes and we are not going to get purists.
To me, what I like to see on stage is artifice, re-presentation, in the sense of performers who build “an idea or image to replace reality” (RAE dixit), what has interested me about Bob is the character that he has elaborated about himself: witty, well-read, talks very fast, uses the feminine gender when he feels like it to affirm his homosexuality, and with a head furnished in a pop style (as its name says), boho chic (the Ikea carete) and progressive free of rojipardismo. Eclectic conjugation that has the effect of a childish, fantastic and astigmatic look at reality.
Bob is good at parody, making the solemn and sordid familiar and light, takes a theme to two completely opposite tones. They whistle thriller and the diaries of murderers and authors of sad endings (Pavese, Orton). speak of a psychokiller like Dennis Nilsen and when he recounts the murderer’s necrophiliac practices with his victims, he does so with a self-confidence that you can’t get enough of, let alone his account of the Scotland Yard investigations into the case. You almost grew fond of Nilsen.
The entire show follows a structure around authors who have written diaries, a genre that he loves. I enjoyed the first part more than the second, in that Bob stops at his beginnings in journalism with hilarious anecdotes. Then he discourses with analogies about personalities from the gossip press (he has been a Marxist chronicler of journalism heart), and ends with the diaries of Joe Orton and Tolstoy and his wife.
His monologue was a bit long for me, lasts two hours, could cut out some insipid story like Revilla’s. The star has her little heart and there is no lack of time for her to confess her love for her husband, thank her friends and declare her television honesty.
Bob tells us about his run to fame (and we believe it to be true and not fiction), from when he was a chubby, effeminate boy who liked to read and write, later obsessed with being successful, or, in other words, Find out what makes you stand out from the rest. Bob you’ve outdone yourself!
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