I first came across the work of Argentinian underground enfant terrible Marina Otero in 2022, seeing her work Fuck Me in Paris. Fuck Me starts with shaky videos of Otero speaking from a hospital bed while awaiting spinal surgery, explaining her initial absence from the stage.

When she did appear, she was frail and could barely move. Six strapping naked dancers helped her demonstrate what the dance would have been, now that she could no longer dance. Propping and carrying her, her petite body seemed even more fragile in their hands.

We were all commiserating over her misfortune as she was telling us, in random order, about her injury, her loneliness, her sexless life, her grandfather and the military dictatorship in Argentina.

At the end, when she came to bow, she moved so precariously that a gust of wind would have blown her away. And then, as we were getting ready to leave, she stormed back onto the stage and started running in circles, faster and faster, going and going, finally stopping when the last person left the theatre.

I was told it went on for almost an hour.

Never have I felt more emotionally manipulated as an audience member. I appreciated the astuteness of the trickery but was furious at my naivety. For a long time, I thought it was all fiction.

Later, I learnt it was all true; it was indeed Otero’s life, living with pain, joyless and desireless. This is what pain does.

At this year’s Rising festival, Otero’s Kill Me – the last in the trilogy which started with Fuck Me – is also about her life. She gives us the story of a painful breakup with a narcissistic man, the resulting revengeful desire to become an invincible Sarah Connor and Otero’s subsequent diagnosis with borderline personality disorder (BPD).

The rest of the cast have been chosen by Otero because they all live with this condition. Five naked women wear little........

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