Director Romeo Castellucci is coming to the end of a four-year collaboration with Milan’s Triennale Theatre. As well as producing a number of shows (see my review of his retelling of Racine’s Berenice), this visionary figure has also led workshops, such as Hiding (2021), The 5th Wall (2022), The Step (2023), the results of which have been presented as a performance open to the public. In December 2024, after a workshop lasting fifteen days for fifteen participants, over a two-month period, Castellucci, together with Silvia Rampelli, and the support of specialists from a wide range of disciplines, presented The Visit (La visita). The subtitle of The Visit, ‘Be available for the Unavailable’, offers a strong hint of what the performance is about, or at least how I interpreted it: be ready to be startled, to be thrown off track, to find yourself wondering about the appearance of a string of mysterious characters, old and young, male and female, who move among audience members, positioned onstage at the Triennale Theatre. Before spectators enter the stage, we are told not to go beyond a long white line running downstage, a simple but necessary rule, which separates us – the audience – from what is a totally empty auditorium. Castellucci, therefore, has deprived audience members of their comfortable and ‘protected’ position and viewpoint at a more traditional theatrical performance. Instead, he places us at the very heart of the live, onstage action. In half-light, accompanied by a constantly shifting soundscape, we witness a string of solo performances. The figures appear out of the blue, positioning themselves in different areas of the stage, sometimes twisting their bodies into surprising new shapes. Without saying a word, as if experiencing a nightmare, they seem oblivious to the fact they are onstage and being observed. One woman flits among us, lighting and relighting a tiny candle, producing a wave of movement in the audience as we continually re-position ourselves to follow and watch her movements. A youngish man is suddenly lit up on the other side of the stage. He is bent over double, his face unseen and his hair falling down. In the dimly lit theatre, he slowly begins to stand upright, showing his naked body. He proceeds to flay his arms on high, his eyes looking upwards, evoking a range of emotion from bewilderment to empathy. Castellucci has created silent, moving images honed out of bodies, which leave audience members, free to interpret them at will. The only words spoken during what was an hour’s performance, come from offstage, but, unfortunately, I found them impossible to decipher from where I was standing. A giant screen suddenly shows a young deer, taking its first steps in a sort of enclosure. From time to time, it seems to peer in our direction, showing more curiosity, than any of the performers before her or him. It falls to its knees, but then gets up awkwardly moving around, before disappearing from view. I came out of this performance, questioning my role as critic. Who am I, I wondered, to say The Visit means this or that. Perhaps the key is simply to immerse yourself in the show and enjoy its ever-unfolding mystery.
The Visit, directed by Romeo Castellucci. Photo Credit: Triennale Milano © Lorenza Daverio
This post was written by the author in their personal capacity.The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of The Theatre Times, their staff or collaborators.
This post was written by Margaret Rose.
The views expressed here belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect our views and opinions.
