Staging William Shakespeare in Italy has always been a high-wire act, requiring a delicate balance between economic viability, casting precision, and a directorial vision that avoids the trap of the predictable. For many theatergoers, the experience is often a gamble—a search for a production that can honor the weight of the Bard’s prose without collapsing under the burden of its own ambition.
The latest attempt to strike this balance comes from Alfredo Arias, the Argentine director whose career has been shaped by exile and the avant-garde. In his recent production of The Tempest, Arias returns to a text he first tackled in 1986 for the Festival d’Avignon. Now, four decades later, he has brought a reimagined version to Italian stages through a sprawling coproduction involving the Stabile di Catania, Marche Teatro, Tieffe Teatro, and Teatro Piemonte Europa.
This iteration of The Tempest is an exercise in subtraction. Rather than leaning into the magical abundance typical of Prospero’s island, Arias has stripped the play to its skeletal frame. Working with a translation by Agostino Lombardo, the director has cut the text aggressively, reducing the dialogue to its absolute essentials in an effort to highlight the core themes of forgiveness and pacification.
A Labyrinth of Stone and Shadow
The visual language of the production is defined by a singular, stark image: a stone labyrinth designed by Giovanni Licheri and Alida Cappellini. This structure serves as both the physical and metaphorical center of the play, with actors continuously entering and exiting the maze, symbolizing the intricate intrigues of human existence and the arduous journey toward catharsis.
Beyond the labyrinth, the scenography is intentionally sparse. Lighting designer Gaetano La Mela uses chromatic shifts to signal the play’s emotional trajectory, while the music is limited to brief, punctuating fragments. The most evocative visual element is a large cloth stretched across the stage, used to create a shadow theater effect to simulate the titular storm. This specific choice serves as a direct homage to the legendary Giorgio Strehler, whose historical stagings of Shakespeare remain a benchmark for Italian theater.
The costumes, handled by Daniele Gelsi, provide the only significant visual variety. The conspirators are dressed in the severe style of the early 20th century, creating a sharp contrast with the colorful, airy attire of Ariel and Caliban, bridging the gap between the rigid world of political power and the wildness of the island.
The Tension Between Essence and Emptiness
Arias has structured the drama as a circular narrative, beginning with the conclusion and looping back to it, emphasizing a reading of the play centered on redemption. However, this radical approach to the text creates a palpable tension on stage. By reducing the script so severely, the production risks losing the rhythms and pauses essential to Shakespearean drama.
The result is a performance that occasionally feels compressed. The actors are often left to carry the full weight of a staging that aims for “essentialism” but sometimes lands on “nakedness.” This is most evident in the vocal delivery of the ensemble, whose modulated, often harsh and emphatic tones create a jarring friction against the play’s more delicate moments.
Amidst this sonic turbulence, the performance of Graziano Piazza as Prospero emerges as the production’s saving grace. Piazza avoids the temptation of theatrical rhetoric, opting instead for a naturalistic approach characterized by whispers, subdued tones, and a measured presence. His Prospero is regal and magical not through artifice, but through a quiet, seasoned authority.
Production Framework and Creative Team
| Role | Contributor |
|---|---|
| Direction | Alfredo Arias |
| Lead Actor (Prospero) | Graziano Piazza |
| Translation | Agostino Lombardo |
| Set Design | Giovanni Licheri &. Alida Cappellini |
| Lighting | Gaetano La Mela |
| Costumes | Daniele Gelsi |
The Challenge of the Minimalist Vision
The central conflict of the production lies in the gap between Arias’ ethereal direction and the visceral needs of the performers. While the stone labyrinth effectively mirrors the “magic of the theater”—where characters appear and dissolve into the scenery—the brevity of the text denies the characters the space to fully breathe. This leaves the audience to wonder if the production’s minimalism serves the story or if the story has been sacrificed to serve the minimalism.
For those familiar with the works of William Shakespeare, the production serves as a fascinating case study in how much of a masterpiece can be removed before the emotional core begins to fray. While the technical execution is precise, the experience is one of missed opportunities, where the mastery of an actor like Piazza is occasionally stifled by a context that is too evanescent to support his depth.
As the production continues its tour through the collaborating Italian theaters, the central question remains whether this “naked” approach to Prospero’s island will resonate as a bold innovation or be remembered as a vision that lacked the necessary substance to truly bloom.
We invite readers to share their thoughts on modern adaptations of Shakespeare in the comments below. Which productions have successfully balanced minimalism with emotional depth?
