The Commedia dell' Arte in the 16th century was a vigorous form of theater, and a largely improvised theater, with established stock plots and bits of commedic exchange that employed a free flowing rehearsal -- a chance to invent and reinvent the plays so the performances remained fresh and current to their audiences. For the actors who performed the roles of the different Zanni (the clowns) there were physical demands, requiring agility and athleticism. In the background, there was an on-going apprenticeship with the children of the actors to acquire experience and understanding of their parent's craft and carry the troupe into the next generation.

Beneath a star-studded sky, the maestro of the Libertini studied his actors and pondered the next two weeks. Alberto Torelli was a tall, well-built man. Though in his forties, he carried himself like an athlete. His black hair, salted with grey at the temples, was thick and wavy. He had an expressive face, with arched eyebrows poised over intense, dark eyes. He wore a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee, which he stroked as he thought about their plans. In a month the Libertini would perform in the wealthy palazzos of Milan's nobles. There they would find a much better reception than at this rude seaside camp where they were now. But Alberto knew that his company needed the journey along the coast to develop new plays. They needed more rehearsals and the opportunity to experiment in front of rougher audiences. If these villagers laughed, if they wept and applauded, then Alberto knew his troupe could proceed with confidence to the more daunting audiences of the nobility.
Alberto had high hopes for this company. It was a good mix of experienced hands and energetic newcomers. From Milan they would go west to Turin, and then across the border into France. There, with the right letters of introduction, they would be able to make a comfortable season for themselves.
Alberto glanced at his wife, Isabella, where she sat reading a book of poetry. She was radiant in the glow of firelight, her skin the color of ivory, her long golden hair rippling over her soft, rounded shoulders. Even in the crude camp of wagons and horses, she maintained an aura of elegance. She sat on rugs amid Turkish pillows, her tiny feet encased in embroidered slippers. Isabella was born a prima donna, an Innamorata who could seduce the audience simply by her feminine presence. Alberto had never been happier in his life than the day she had consented to marry him.
As if feeling the warmth of his stare, Isabella glanced up from her book and smiled. Alberto felt his knees go weak. She kissed a pearl-colored fingertip and blew the kiss to him before returning to her book. Alberto caught the kiss and touched his fingers to his own lips. Beyond Isabella sat Fiammetta, who was nursing her baby daughter, Rosella. Fiammetta was married to Flavio Fiorillo, the actor working on the role of II Dottore. Sitting next to her was Alberto s daughter, Silvia, practicing a singing duet with Fiammetta. At sixteen, Silvia was already a charming young woman. But where her mother, Isabella, was golden, Silvia was raven-haired, like Alberto. She had expressive dark eyes and a pouting red mouth.
"I'm going to kill you for that!"
Alberto smiled, watching the antics of Gianni Moretti and Bruno Pasquati rehearsing a scene between the blustering II Capitano and the scrappy king of insults, Pulcinella. The upper halves of their faces were covered by black leather masks with huge black noses and rumpled foreheads. Bruno, playing Pulcinella, wore a tall dusty fez, while Gianni, as II Capitano, had a sweeping mustache that puffed out with every word he spat. The two actors swaggered with huge pot bellies, their shoulders thrust back as they traded insults.
Read More > > >
Excerpt from The Innamorati: The Libertini Rehearse, I, Excerpt from The Innamorati: The Libertini Dine and Create, II.