Review: LA STRADA, The Other Palace

Italian Neo-Realism then eh? Doesn't sound like a lot of laughs does it? And, truth be told, it isn't, but if you're not up to date with your Fellini (whose film, also called La Strada) is the source of this show) think "My Brilliant Friend" - the book of the book clubs.

Following up her wonderful Peter Pan at the National Theatre (reviewed here), Sally Cookson gives us another experience that draws on theatre's extraordinary capacity to co-opt various art forms and stage spectacular set pieces, but she keeps the story tightly focused on the human drama of growing up in adversity.

In the rubble and chaos of post-war Italy, Gelsomina is sold to Zampano, an itinerant showman with a strongman act, in the expectation that she will send money home to her widowed mother and four sisters (another had already been bought by Zampano and died in somewhat mysterious circumstances). This odd couple set off round the towns and villages of a country still on its knees, Zampano spending his money on booze and women, Gelsomina tagging along, drumming up the punters, fretting about her now distant family.

After joining a circus, the clown (an outsider like Gelsomina) befriends her and teaches her the trumpet - the only talent Gelsomina has ever displayed, but the only time she has been encouraged - and the tables slowly turn, Zampano now taking the hat round for his erstwhile sidekick. It doesn't end well of course, but we learn that the lives of street children of the 1950s (and of today) may be invisible to us as we hurtle by on our own business, but they are no less worthy, no less complex, no less valuable.

Audrey Brisson cuts a tiny, but nevertheless compelling figure weighed down by worry and the abuse she suffers at the hands of Stuart Goodwin's Zampano, a thuggish, but not wholly evil figure, a victim of circumstances as much as his assistant. Brisson sings in a voice that wavers between an angelic hymn and a wail of despair, her hopes never quite extinguished, but never quite realised either. Other music evokes Italy in all its hues - the accordion as expressive as ever.

Around that central relationship, the support cast play a range of picaresque characters, from Tatiana Santini's blowsy singer to Sofie Lyback's sexy widow. Bart Soroczynski is the standout as the clown who pokes at the wasp's nest of Zampano's insecurity (and pays a price) but not before showing Gelsomina the compassion she so desperately needs, planting the seed of self-esteem that briefly blossoms.

The gaggle of actor/musicians create extraordinary carnivalesque scenes, life on the street barely distinguishable from life in the circus, as people have to perform roles and twist and turn just to scrape a living. It's here where Cookson scores so strongly, one's eye flitting about the stage (as it would do on a street) as noise, love, hate and hope ebb and flow under the searing Italian sun, heating that hot Latin blood. It is the spectacle that persists and that lifts our spirits - and the knowledge that though not all these kids survived the trauma of the transition to democracy, many did - one hopes Gelsomina's sisters amongst them.

La Strada continues at The Other Palace until 8 July.

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