When one says "Russian literature," everyone immediately thinks of novels featuring characters experiencing existential crises at the crossroads between life and death. Yet, Russian literature does have some humorous authors, even though Russian humor, and Asian humor in general, is not the same as ours, that of P.G. Wodehouse or Totò.
Their humor is more akin to the melancholic sarcasm of Alberto Sordi or Paolo Villaggio, who, not coincidentally, received the prestigious Russian Gogol literary prize in 2012 for his stories about Ugo Fantozzi.
And I want to talk specifically about Gogol and the production of The Inspector General that was performed at the Alvito theater as part of the Ruggito d'Attore Award from FITA – the Italian Theater and Arts Federation of Frosinone.
Director Andrea Palma adapted the story in the 1980s, crafting the music and sets to evoke that period of my youth, which I know so well.
I generally don't like adaptations, but this one added just the right touch of irony that I think Gogol would have appreciated. I'm sure Nikolai Gogol would have appreciated the image of the mayor's wife and daughter tanning in the sun with the help of a mirror while chatting boredly about trivial matters.
The story is about a small provincial town where the mayor, judge, guard, doctor, and postmaster are all corrupt and oppress the population. The postmaster, who reads all the incoming and outgoing mail, seems to realize that the town will be visited by an Inspector General from the capital and fearfully informs everyone else.
At a certain point, everyone identifies the Inspector General as a small-time crook with a servant, who were staying at the inn without paying for their services. They went to pay their respects to him, offering him lodging in the mayor's house and even some money to curry his favor.
The show was a succession of ironic scenes, but with a hint of sarcastic sadness in the smallness of the characters, while the actors on stage had a mastery that made them appear like true stage professionals.
I'm told that Emanuele Ricchetti, who played the con man Khlestakov, is a lawyer, but I'm sure he could find a second life in show business with his stage presence.
Kudos to the scenography, which was meticulously crafted down to the smallest detail, including the fact that some actors handed out fake coins with the mayor's portrait to us, the audience. Even the car ride to the capital was cleverly rendered in a humorous manner, in the style of Gogol (who I'm sure would have appreciated the palm trees, too).
At the end of the show, while the audience's votes were being counted, I had the pleasure of chatting with Federica Ponza, president of the Made In Terraneo Company of Anagni, who told me about their new project: the Madeinterraneo festival in Anagni in July. I'll be following them with interest, especially after hearing the program of performances with other companies from all over Italy.
Time flew by and, of course, ended with the music and lyrics "Game Over," typical of 1980s video games. Dear Gogol, past and present have merged in Alvino with memories that will live on into the future!
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