Commedia dell'Arte troupes crisscrossing the country to perform are often at the mercy of events they have no control over, like difficult audience members and bad weather. In the midst of rain and misery, the kindness of an unexpected patron in a small village becomes a welcomed gift. Food, wine, and local stories fuel the imaginations of the actors.
The actors of the Libertini huddled beneath the archway of a narrow street leading into Camogli's triangular piazza. Slanting sheets of rain splashed down on its black and white patterned stones; a church built on the seaward side sheltered it from the worst of the storm. Next to the church, the fishing boats tied to the harbor wall bounced in the rough sea. All along the landward side of the piazza, a street of tall row houses had closed their shutters against the wind and driving rain. There was no one abroad in the streets of Camogli, not even the usual stray cat.
In the archway, the Commedians stared glumly at the rain. The women held their skirts gathered in their hands to keep the hems from dragging in the water that sluiced down the shining black cobblestones. The baby Rosella fussed, her cheeks bright red in the chill. The men, leaning against the wall, wrapped their short capes around them, the feathers of their costume hats drooping with the damp. Alberto was alternately swearing at himself, swearing at God, and swearing at the bad luck that had brought this wretched storm on the day of their first performance.
They had entered Camogli in the early morning, when the sky was burning with red clouds to match the intensity of Alberto's temper. He was seething over the loss of the Arlecchino mask. Fabrizio had confessed in stammers to accidentally dropping it into the sea. Dropping it into the sea! It could portend disaster for the whole troupe. Silvia fingered her little gold cross nervously, Bruno and Gianni made secret gestures to ward off bad luck, Matteo sulked, Flavio chewed his nails, and Antonio tucked a blue Turkish bead on a string underneath his doublet to protect himself from evil. The damn fool, Fabrizio, just made it worse by stuttering worthless apologies to anyone with the patience to listen.
Once they had arrived in Camogli, Isabella urged Alberto to set up the show early and begin with some short pieces to advertise the evening performance. "Give them something to do so they don't fret," she advised. "Applause is the best cure!"
They set up the wagon and the trestle stage on top. From the trestle they had hung bright yellow drop cloths to form background walls. Fiammetta played her mandolin and Silvia danced a salterello to attract the villagers. As a crowd gathered, Arlecchino and Pulcinella made their appearance amid snickers and light applause. The two masks were arguing over a piece of cake that Arlecchino was happily eating but Pulcinella wanted. When Arlecchino refused to share even a morsel with his companion, Pulcinella decided to trick Arlecchino into believing he was very ill. Before long poor Arlecchino was staggering and moaning while Pulcinella expounded on his pallor. When Pulcinella at last declared him dead, Arlecchino obediently lay down and surrendered the cake to his greedy tormentor. It was left to Colombina to convince her beloved Arlecchino that he wasn't dead after all. Everything was going well. The crowd was small but enthusiastic, standing attentively before the stage, their tasks temporarily forgotten as everyone watched the performance. Alberto knew that if the troupe could hook them now, the audience would return in the evening to see the full performance and pay out a few of their hard-sweated coins. The crowd had just begun to loosen up when a thick bank of dark grey clouds settled heavily above the piazza. Read more > > >
Excerpt from The Innamorati: The Libertini Rehearse, I, Excerpt from The Innamorati: The Libertini Dine and Create, II.
