The Fellini Radio Plays
By Frederico Fellini
Play summary | Globe and Mail review
From the program:
Before becoming one of Italy's most renowned filmmakers, the director of La Dolce Vita and Satyricon wrote dramas for radio. This specially commissioned one-act comedy is adapted from a recently rediscovered collection of the surrealist genius's early scripts.
The Globe and Mail's review:
Double bill a mismatched pair
By KATE TAYLOR
Thursday, August 8, 2002 – Print Edition, Page R2
The Fellini Radio Plays
Translated and adapted
by Damiano Pietropaolo
Directed by Idalberto Fei
Starring Eric Peterson, Luba Goy
and Steve Cumyn
Bereav'd of Light
Written by Ian Ross
Directed by Dean Gabourie
Starring Derwin Jordan'
and Gregory Dominic Odjig
A double bill in Studio Theatre at the Stratford Festival
In his youth, before he became a mighty filmmaker, Federico Fellini wrote
small dramas for Italian radio. Who knew?
Not many, since his short scripts from the 1940s were lost and only
rediscovered in 1998, whereupon the Italian writer and director Idalberto Fei
produced several of them for the national broadcaster RAI. They have since been
heard on other European radio networks. Now, Fei brings the plays to the
theatrical stage at Stratford's new Studio Theatre with an English translation
courtesy of Damiano Pietropaolo who, not coincidentally, also produces radio
drama for the CBC in his role as head of arts programming.
The plays are whimsical things, charming in spots, corny in others, which Fei
does a pretty if not entirely smooth job of turning into theatre. The first
piece is a small gag: A tramp talks a young man out of his cigarettes, his
cigarette case and finally his suit. With an exuberant Steven Cumyn as the con
artist and a comically flabbergasted Andrew Strachan as his victim, the piece is
easy fun that's easily dismissed.
The second play revolves around a dreamily symbolic story in which a pair of
illiterate lovers, separated when the young man goes to the city for work,
exchange daily letters containing nothing but blank sheets of paper. The story
itself is a gem, but it would need subtler work from Tracy Michailidis as the
woman and Strachan as the man for its power to take hold: In particular, he
can't give sufficient emotional weight to the sadly ironic conclusion.
The final play is the centrepiece of this show, and it explains why Eric
Peterson has been hovering about the action as some kind of narrator or host.
Now he is the larger-than-life director in a radio studio stuffed with
microphones, fake doors and a wind machine: The cast and crew of Special
Broadcast No. 7 are getting to work. The director and his pair of announcers --
Luba Goy is the aging prima donna, Michailidis is the sexy young talent -- read
out letters from listeners demanding everything from a conversation between fish
to an explanation of the monologue delivered by the clacking train wheels.
The device of the audience's letters is wearing thin before the little play
is over, but its aural games are charming, and Peterson's highly amusing work as
the overacting director anchors the piece. Here, Fei's idea of giving the
Fellini radio plays physical life as theatre belatedly takes hold as he
successfully transports the equipment of sound-making into the world of the
Very oddly, as Stratford continues here with the double bills of one-act
plays that are launching the new studio, the festival has paired these little
theatrical bonbons with Bereav'd of Light, a new script from Ian Ross, the native
playwright best known for the Governor-General's Award-winning fareWel.
It would be hard to imagine a more mismatched pair than Fei's offering of
surreal Italian whimsy and the earnest drama of New World revisionism that opens
the program. Ross's play sets out to investigate an unrecorded chapter of North
American history: the encounter between black slaves and aboriginal peoples.
What he has produced, however, is a plantation melodrama with a noble brave cast
as deus ex machina.
The white master (Leon Pownall) and his slave Samuel (Seun Olagunju) are
pursuing the escaped slave Absalom (Derwin Jordan) through the forest. Absalom
is the master's favourite, kept as a servant in the house rather than a worker
in the fields, but he has committed the unpardonable offence of learning to
read. In the forest, he meets Wagoosh (Gregory Dominic Odjig), an Indian on a
vision quest to liberate the soul of his brother, who has died of the white
man's drink. After some initial confusion and amazement -- Wagoosh conveniently
speaks English, learned when he was kidnapped by Europeans -- the two form a
bond of brotherhood that lets them face down Absalom's pursuers.
Of course, these characters have a wholly anachronistic consciousness of the
oppression of their two peoples, but such a state would be perfectly permissible
in the world of theatre if Ross could find some dramatic language that would
give it a convincing voice. That was the secret to the success of Florence
Gibson's lyrical Belle, a recent Canadian script that dealt with a
similar encounter between a suffragette and the children of slaves in
Reconstruction-era America. But here, Ross lurches about, grasping occasionally
at poetry that might match his lengthy quotations from William Blake, but mainly
producing lines that sound painfully flat and self-conscious.
Director Dean Gabourie and his cast attempt to inflate the script to the size
it would have to be were it to successfully address its themes, but they too are
erratic in their achievements.
As Pownall lusciously recites Blake or Odjig and Jordan reveal their
characters' energetic humanity, one gets glimpses of plausibly heroic figures
but just as often, without language rich enough to turn the brusque revelations
of the plot from melodrama to tragedy, they only look silly.
The play's drama feels phony and its chief revelation -- we are all human --
The double bill in Studio Theatre at the Stratford Festival
runs to Aug. 25. 1-800-567-1600.
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