"Friday: the end of the world... or not closes the shows component of the Seven Years Seven Pieces cycle. It's worth remembering the previous "days" (years) that have followed each other since 2015. In particular, I'd like to highlight two aspects common to all the pieces in this cycle: history and landscape.

Let's remember that the whole genesis of the cycle is a reaction to the violent and radical austerity measures designed in 2010 in most Western economies, and their impact on Portugal in particular. To counteract the "shock and awe" strategy, it was necessary to stop and critically view the events that had led to the explosion of the ultra-liberal herd. Thus, since "Monday", Cláudia Dias has invited our attention to the history of European disunity, to the history of the extermination of the Palestinian people, to the history of the petrodollar, and not forgetting the history of the storytellers themselves. Following these timelines has already led us to be punched and kicked, to set fire to world maps, to dig missile craters, to read in giant books; and now, when "Friday..." arrives, we will hear the story of several possible futures.

This itinerary through the stories of history has, fortunately, an accidental component, the result of Cláudia Dias' sharing and conflicts with her guest co-creators; it is a journey that has indelibly inscribed itself in the lives of those who have gone on it. It's not predetermined tourism. Looking at history in this way requires a certain distance, which the pieces in this cycle have translated into spaces where different languages have intersected, drawing individual landscapes.

A sure shot of globalization, the Covid-19 pandemic has dictated isolation to everyone, which is said to be hygienic. Let's stay away from all dangerous materials, such as faces, touches, streets and schools. Barricaded in our own rooms, we are left with virtual worlds as the only clean possibility of continuing our lives. Fortunately, telecommunications companies and content curators were already well prepared to come to our aid at this difficult time. In a time of pandemic, a time when we have let terror sit comfortably in our homes and minds, summoning citizens to the theater has a bizarre and fascinating roulette wheel flavor. The place that the Athenians "invented" to share the founding episodes of their society, to witness what their own society was, was very select, but at least it was outdoors. Today, sharing presences and ideas carries a considerable risk.

In the previous pieces in the cycle, we got used to seeing Cláudia accompanied by another artist on stage. In 2020, Cláudia Dias is also isolated in "Friday...", hygienically separated from the audience by a translucent screen, through which we can see her thanks to Nuno Borda d'Água's light design. This is not, however, a strict observance of pandemic etiquette; solitude is a necessary condition for the work of the Pythoness, a priestly figure from Ancient Greece, whom Cláudia has chosen to emulate - not without a hint of the subtle irony that some will recognize in her. This figure, a remnant of a matriarchal cult that predated the pantheon of Zeus, had the task of interpreting signs and omens, providing answers - however obscure - about the future of those who consulted her. Bridges between humans and gods, between present and future, the pythonesses were elected, in an extremely cruel and unequal society, to perform an exceptional job: to see and announce what is coming. This, of course, with the help of ethylene vapors, inducing a mystical trance, which flowed from the volcanic soil. The same ones that many of us inhale in a day-to-day life of pollution, short of a future for the ordinary citizen, but where a very unbreathable future is being mapped out in leaps and bounds.

So, in her solitude as a pythoness, Cláudia Dias has listed five visions of a plausible but not peaceful future, namely: 1) the nuclear threat; 2) the collapse of the biosphere; 3) the rebirth of fascism; 4) the digitalization of the workforce; 5) the commodification of culture; five visions that have become especially close in the last five years. They also include two more personal visions, one about their present condition and the other about their own future. These visions were compiled with the help of Jorge Louraço Figueira, based on a myriad of quotes ranging from Shakespeare to Donald Trump, including Angela Davis and Jerónimo de Sousa. The appropriation of external material has also been a constant in the works of Cláudia Dias, who, by summoning the voices of others, tries to inscribe the thoughts of many. She is not alone, therefore.

In addition to literary materials, "Sexta-Feira" brings together two other languages: animation by António Jorge Gonçalves and music by Vasco Vaz / Miguel Pedro. Once again, in the context of "Sete Anos Sete Peças" (Seven Years Seven Pieces), this double dialog posed the challenge of establishing a specific landscape, where all the discourses could coexist with their own autonomy and nature, and yet still create a common link. In the laboratories of "Sete Anos Sete Peças", much of the research was dedicated to the surgical alternation of different languages. This time, António Jorge Gonçalves, who has accompanied all the plays in the cycle, illustrating the respective book editions, now brings his line, in the form of animated white light, to inscribe on the canvas forms with which Cláudia Dias interacts (dances?!). And Vasco Vaz and Miguel Pedro take over most of the space, filling it with songs that are rough, grandiose, amusing or dark, which Cláudia has to... sing. This additional challenge also fits in with the structure that "Friday..." imported from Greek tragedy, where the narrative episodes were interspersed with comments sung by the chorus (estásimos). In this last show of the cycle, Cláudia Dias set out to do something she had never done before: convey her words through song - the song not of someone who seduces and shines, but the song of the craftsman at work."