Plays, of course, are meant to be seen and not read, but it’s not always possible to see every play. They are not complete on the page, certainly in contemporary theatre where plays can be more collaboratively made than ever before. However, it encourages us (and hopefully others) to read more widely. For the third year, here is our #ReadaPlayaWeek initiative. And, as achieved in 2015, we shall try to choose 26 male playwrights and 26 female playwrights for our play choices. The plays from the first half of this year can be seen here.
Week 28:
Dario Fo’s Accidental Death Of An
Anarchist (1970)
In December 1969, following the detonation of a
bomb in the Agricultural Bank of Milan, suspect, Giovanni Pinelli, flew out of
a fourth floor window of the Police Headquarters. Was Pinelli’s death suicide, an
unfortunate accident, or something else? Dario Fo takes these murky
circumstances as a starting point for his play. Heavily influenced by Brecht,
Fo combines less-than-subtle political stances with heavy handed theatricality
– much fourth wall breaking and social commentary – examining fraught topics
such as corruption, police brutality, whitewashing and censorship. While this
could be cloying, he does so with a deftness that entwines satire with farce as
the plot convolutions unravel into fastidiously organised chaos. The end effect
is one of hilarity tinged with gutsy discomfort.
In the aftermath of Pinelli’s death a man simply
referred to as ‘Maniac’ enters the police headquarters and dons various guises,
exposing the deceit that lies at the heart of the police force while
simultaneously gaining their trust as he repeatedly outwits them. Contradicting
versions of the interrogation and subsequent fall of Pinelli become
increasingly ridiculous as the Maniac manipulates the gullible Inspector,
Superintendent and Constable at the centre of the scandal into a confused, yet
revealing state of panic.
The Maniac’s disguises, taking the form of a
professor, a judge, and a forensics expert, highlight the institutionalised
corruption and deception that pervades in the high ranking officials whom ought
to be the protectors of the nation. His absurd final disguise sees him wear a
glass eye, wooden leg, and a female mannequin’s hand, his masquerade should be
easy to see through, and it is for us, but the characters on stage remain
largely oblivious, tied up in their own skin-saving web spinning.
The introduction in the copy I read (Methuen Drama
Modern Classics) states that an estimated one million people saw the play in
its first four years, ‘many of whom took part in fierce debates after the
performance’. This, possibly in no small way, can be attributed to the dual
denouement. In one of the greatest feats of metatheatre I’ve encountered, the
final moments of the play sees Fo ingeniously bestow a dramatic sense of rough
justice, then seconds later snatch away that catharsis, leaving us grasping for
answers that are denied; we are forced to decide upon our own conclusion.
This demonstrates the way Fo unmasks the reality
behind the façade, whether that be political, social, institutional, or
theatrical – the script is littered with subversive references to himself and
his shortcomings as a playwright – emphasising the unknown quantity that is the
real life event behind this fiction. Interjections by the actors and gaps left
in the script for dramaturgs or directors to insert their own jokes and
contemporary references means that the play is free of the censorship which was
exercised in twentieth century Italy, as well as the inadvertent censorship
that timely constraints imposes on society and history. Fo is undoubtedly
political and driven by specifics, yet there is room to manoeuver and bring to
the play an acutely modern relevance. As debates raged following its initial
performances, the play still has the ability to cause a stir. We can very
easily draw (un)comfortable comparisons with the state of institutionalised
corruption at large in the world today. Just take a look at the
#BlackLivesMatter campaign and stance against police brutality that has risen
in recent years for one example.
Interestingly, at the time, the bombing of the bank
was pinned on extreme leftist groups, yet ten years later a trial concluded with
the condemnation of three fascists, who came from the ranks of military and
political institutions, one even being an agent of the secret police. Fo’s play
was ahead of its time, showing up Italy’s rulers and protectors for the rancid buffoons
that they evidently were.
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