Longing Pinocchio
Reviewed by Paul Birchall
Aliens with Extraordinary Abilities
Extended through September 1
RECOMMENDED
Aliens with Extraordinary Ability is a theatrical collective made up of three performers (Eric Paterniani, Valeria Iacampo, Veronica Nolte) who hail from Italy. The company’s name is a quirky play on the notorious O-1 visa which allows immigrants to fast track their way to the U.S. (and usually not because of their contributions to theater, alas). So it’s not at all surprising to discover that this production is rich with irony, melancholy, and surprisingly ambitious stagecraft.
The show is a moody and impressionistic retelling of Collodi’s classic Pinocchio story — but in ways it’s more like a story about Rumpelstiltskin, as the performers spin the incredibly modest resources of a tiny venue, a few platforms, and a sound system into the most compelling theatrical gold. For such a tiny production in such a petite space, the show boasts ingenuity and crisp theatricality galore. It goes to show that one doesn’t need money to put on vivid, exciting theater (though it sometimes helps, of course).
Arriving at Zombie Joe Underground Theater, one files past a closed casket and a rather ghoulishly smiling undertaker (playwright Eric Paterniani) who invites us to pay honor to the recently deceased Geppetto — better known as the maker of Pinocchio, a wooden marionette whom Geppetto regarded as his son. Various folks from the Pinocchio narrative line up and offer eulogies to the dead woodcarver. But where is Pinocchio himself?
Portrayed by the delightfully youthful Valeria Iacampo, the eulogies transform into vignettes that recount Pinocchio’s story. Pinocchio falls in with a diabolical Fox (Paterniani again) and a blind cat (Veronica Nolte) who lead the puppet into lands of mischief and terror. There he makes friends with a naughty boy (Paterniani), and they visit a land of toys, where they are turned into donkeys. A kindly turquoise fairy (Nolte) appears, but Pinocchio’s wicked lies nonetheless make his nose grow as long as a tree trunk.
Yes, the narrative is traditional, but the general mood of eerie unease, combined with imaginative moments and gestures, belies its deceptive simplicity. The piece is perhaps best appreciated as a series of blackout sequences that reveal Pinocchio as a story of cruelty and horror. A scene in which Pinocchio and buddy are turned into donkeys, followed by the appearance of a terrifying auctioneer who attempts to sell them to members of the audience, is harrowing on an elemental level. Another scene, in which the Fox and the Cat lure Pinocchio into a dark spot and then hang him, is played out with maximum disturbing thuggery, with flashlights and maniacal laughter. The vignette in which the Turquoise Fairy makes Pinocchio’s nose grow conveys such physical pain that it’s reminiscent of what you might see in an intensive care unit.
The production’s not perfect by any means: its structure is hard to follow and, once one does figure it out, often unrewarding. Also, the heavy Italian accents among the ensemble and the script’s poor translation into English makes for frequent confusion. The show would probably be stronger and more compelling if it were performed in the original Italian, with a synopsis in the program for those of us who are unfortunately monolingual. But the edginess of the stagecraft can’t be under-expressed; it has the creative and innovative feel of a truly fresh fringe work.
Zombie Joe’s Underground Theatre, 4850 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood; Sat., Sep. 1, 8:30 p.m.; extended through Sep. 1. (818) 202-4120 or www.zombiejoes.com. Running time: 70 minutes with no intermission.
