I write theater to put words in the now, in the world, moving. Words that want things and fall on their faces. I write plays because theater is the territory where ideas and images mix in a funnier, more delicate way. I write theater also because I love actors. They teach me how to write — always looking for that place where everything is commonly mysterious and amazingly clear.
Jacinto Lucas Pires was born in Porto in 1974 and lives in Lisbon. He is a writer and a playwright.
A Gargalhada de Augusto Reis (The laugh of Augusto Reis), his latest novel, has just come out (published by Porto Editora).
The True Actor (published in the US by Dzanc, translation by Jaime Braz and Dean Thomas Ellis) won the 2013 DST Distinguished Literature Award for the best book published in Portugal in the past two years.
Lucas Pires won the prestigious Prémio Europa/David Mourão-Ferreira (Bari University, Italy/Instituto Camões, Portugal) in 2008.
In the US, his stories have been published in St. Petersburg Review, The Common and the The Mass Review.
Jacinto Lucas Pires has written four novels, two short-story collections and two non-fiction books.
He has written several theater plays, staged by different groups — such as Universos e frigoríficos (Universes and refrigerators, 1998, APA/CCB, directed by Manuel Wiborg), Escrever, falar (Writing, speaking, 2001, Lilástico, directed by Marcos Barbosa), Figurantes (Extras, 2004, TNSJ, directed by Ricardo Pais), Exactamente Antunes (Exactly Antunes, 2011, TNSJ, directed by Cristina Carvalhal and Nuno Carinhas), Interpretação (Interpretation, 2014, Culturgest/Mundo Perfeito, directed by Tiago Rodrigues), Agora (Now, 2018, Ninguém, directed by Ivo Alexandre).
He plays with the band Os Quais, and he keeps the blog O que eu gosto de bombas de gasolina. His soccer column appears in O Jogo. He comments on political issues at Renascença Radio.
Joaquim works as an interpreter at the European institutions. Behind a glass, he translates other people’s speeches. One day, he makes a mistake — a little one, a slight error, just a tiny thing — and it becomes a monumental misunderstanding. What, now the Euro crisis is all his fault? Is that possible? How can it be that, suddenly, our Joaquim’s identity crisis becomes the European crisis?
A monologue with eighty-something people on stage, theater of the word playing with some of the best statistics, a tragedy that’s also a comedy (one can never explain the whole thing in these abrupt synopses, I’m afraid). Me, you, Europe.
Pedro and Maria are unemployed and their Son has nightmares about the world. To solve these issues, Pedro decides to start a religion. The family micro-company becomes a success, but the nightmares continue: strange drives, new words, images pulled out of the air by an ageless and nameless Son. Perhaps religion has to come down to earth. Perhaps Pedro should enter politics. Will he succeed? And what about Maria? And their Son? And the others? And us?