special taste

I have a special taste for dramatic characters who include, not stars like Hamlet and co, but co-stars like Shylock, Thersytes of Shakespeare's "Troilus and Cressida", Karla Zachanasian of Durrenmatt's "Der Bezuch", Becket's Pozzo and Hamm, de Sade in Weiss' "Marat/Sade", Nat Goldberg of Pinter's "The Birthday Party", and not any of the nine sisters, charming as they are, of Lorca's "Casa de Bernarda Alba", but their grandmother Maria Juseppa, a character living in dementia away from the sea of troubles of this world but who, time and time again, stands up in agony to utter some unintelligible remarks, presumably about life and death. I take her to be the symbol and epitome of Nietzsche's eternal return of us humans dying, then coming back to existence, and our death and life recur infinitely, as Maria Juseppa in her on-and-off stillness and eruption represents us dying (stillness and peace of the grave),  then coming back to the (much ado of human life, a tale told by an idiot where man, on his way to dusty death, is like a poor player who struts and frets his hour on the stage, then is heard no more). Maria Juseppa's utterances then relaping to stillness is us in real human existence who are like the actor who struts his words, words, words  then is heard no more. In the on-and-off consciousness of the Father, Strindeberg does the same thing. There can never by a staging of "Bernarda Alba" like the 1973 the Spanish-language one by Nuria Espert at the Aldwych-London, as part of an international theatre festival held at each 3rd year of each decade--I hope the tradition is still on-going-- started by a disabled man of theatre whose photograph with him posing with Peter Ustinov I very well remember but whose name memory is not serving