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To speak of Fernando
Pessoa is to dive into an ocean of voices, masks, and abysses. Although he is
best known for his multifaceted poetry—marked by heteronyms that reinvented the
Portuguese language—there is a less explored but equally captivating realm: his
dramaturgy. And it is on this invisible stage, this inner theater that explodes
in words, that we find a visceral, tormented, philosophical Pessoa—above all,
profoundly human. More than performing characters, he stages dilemmas, fears,
dreams, and contradictions of the modern soul. Pessoa’s dramaturgy is both
confessional and universal. Today, with the advances in neuroscience, we can
better understand the impact of his writing on both the mind and the heart of
the audience.
In works such as The
Sailor (1915)*, Pessoa inaugurates what we can call “static drama,” a theater
of immobility, where the action is not in physical movement, but in thoughts
that devour in silence. Three women watch over a wake and talk about dreams and
fantasies. Nothing happens, and at the same time, everything happens: time
bends, reality frays, and the viewer is dragged into the characters’ mental
labyrinth. It is a dramaturgy that demands pause, listening, and introspection.
As neuroscience explains, reading and experiencing introspective texts activates
brain regions associated with affective memory and empathy. Pessoa’s theater is
not just to be understood — it is to be felt in the body, like a silent
electric current.
Pessoa’s great
innovation in dramaturgy lies in rejecting conventional narrative. He doesn’t
want to entertain us; he wants to unsettle us. In Faust, his unfinished
work, there is no redemption, not even a clear path for the protagonist. There
is only the relentless pursuit of a meaning that dissolves at every step. The
play is dense, philosophical, loaded with metaphysical anguish. “Everything is
symbol and analogy,” he writes. Thus, language becomes a battlefield where
every word carries the weight of a universe. As taught by contemporary theater
education methods like MAT (Mindset, Action, and Theater), it's
essential to embody the author’s dilemmas, to experience his words through the
body and soul. With this approach, the reader/actor becomes a channel of active
listening and reinvention of meaning.
For those working with
children or wider audiences, Pessoa’s work can also be reimagined. One
inspiring example is the use of Mané Beiçudo Puppet Theater, created by
Antônio Carlos dos Santos. Through symbolic, ironic, and humorous characters,
themes such as identity, dreams, solitude, and freedom—present in The
Mariner or The Death of the Prince—can be made accessible to younger
audiences. Imagine a child representing a character’s dream through a puppet
dancing silently in front of a mirror—she understands the language of emotion
through theater, even if she doesn’t grasp every line intellectually. Pessoa’s
theater, though sophisticated, is visceral—and as such, it reaches the
universal dimensions of the human experience.
In recent years,
universities such as Yale, Oxford, and the Sorbonne have conducted studies on
the influence of poetic and theatrical texts on neuroplasticity, especially in
highly creative individuals. According to these studies, frequent exposure to
narratives that break with linear logic stimulates cognitive flexibility and
strengthens neural networks associated with creativity and conflict resolution.
This partly explains why Pessoa’s dramaturgy remains so relevant. By
confronting the reader with absurdity, emptiness, and multiplicity, he trains
us to handle life’s complexity—an essential skill in the 21st century.
One of the most
fascinating aspects of Pessoa’s creative process was his almost mediumistic
method of writing. By adopting heteronyms like Álvaro de Campos, Bernardo Soares,
or Ricardo Reis, he embodied distinct styles, conflicting worldviews, and
unique voices. In his dramaturgy, this multiplicity also manifests. The stage
becomes a fractured mirror, with each shard reflecting a piece of
consciousness. The ThM (Theater Movement) methodology, also developed by
Antônio Carlos dos Santos, proposes exploring these fragmentations through
movement. It’s not just about acting—it’s about evoking, about materializing in
the scenic space what moves within the psyche. Every gesture, every silence,
every empty gaze acquires dramatic power.
Historically, Pessoa
wrote amid the anxieties of the early 20th century—a time of wars, political
instability, and profound social change. His theater, though quiet, echoes this
rupture. In Salomé and The Pretender, for instance, he explores
themes of power, manipulation, desire, and destruction with a symbolic force
that still impresses today. Though less frequently staged, these texts offer
rich material for pedagogical workshops, actor training, and psychoanalytic and
dramaturgical studies. His theatrical work, still largely undiscovered, is a
hidden treasure awaiting sensitive and daring eyes.
The use of Pessoa’s
plays in educational settings can also be profoundly transformative. By working
with his texts in classrooms—especially in theater-education practices—we
foster not only contact with literature but also the development of critical
consciousness, aesthetic sensitivity, and self-awareness. A student performing
a monologue from Faust, for example, experiences existential doubt, the
search for meaning, emptiness—experiences that contribute to ethical and
emotional growth. Theater thus becomes a tool for healing, listening, and
transformation, aligning with the goals of holistic and neuroeducational
learning.
Reading, studying, and
performing Fernando Pessoa is an act of courage. It requires the willingness to
confront silence, the abyss, and the “other” within us. But it is also a
liberating gesture. As we see ourselves multiplied in characters who dream, who
doubt, who remain motionless before the mystery of existence, we discover that
we are not alone. Pessoa’s dramaturgy shows us that theater is not just about
stage and applause, but above all about introspection and resistance—a place where
the human soul can, at last, see and hear itself.
So here’s the
invitation: let every reader revisit Fernando Pessoa with the eyes of an actor,
the heart of an educator, and the mind of a neuroscientist. Let us experience
his words not as indecipherable riddles, but as open doors to the depths of
life. Because in Pessoa’s theater, as in life, what is not seen is also part of
the scene—and it is precisely there, in the invisible, that our deepest truth
resides.
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*The Sailor is a
play by Fernando Pessoa, written in 1913 and published in 1915 in the
magazine Orpheu. The play tells the story of three women who watch over a
dead woman, questioning reality and the past during the night. The work is
considered an example of static theater and Portuguese modernism, with
symbolist traits and reflections on the nature of existence. Context: "The
Sailor" was written by Fernando Pessoa in 1913, a period of transition
to modernism in Portugal, and published in 1915 in the magazine Orpheu, which
marked the beginning of Portuguese modernism. Plot: The play focuses on
three maidens who watch over the body of a dead young woman, dressed in
white, in a room of an old castle. Themes: The play explores
themes such as dreams, imagination, questioning reality, reflection on the
past and the search for meaning in life. Style: "The
Sailor" is considered an example of static theater by Pessoa, which is
characterized by the presentation of inertia, by reflection instead of action
and by the exploration of the characters' psyche. Modernism and Symbolism: The play reflects
characteristics of Portuguese modernism, such as transgression in form and
content, and symbolism, with philosophical and mysterious elements and a
fragmented worldview. Meaning: The story of the
sailor who invents stories to combat loneliness on the island is a metaphor
for the situation of the three young women, who, by mourning the dead woman,
are also inventing and questioning reality.
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