Accidental Death of an Anarchist

This hilarious absurdist comedy is a well-polished production that has lost none of its humour or meaning in the fifty plus years since it was written.

Set in Milan, Italy, Nobel prize-winner Dario Fo wrote the play in 1970 in response to a real cover-up of an unusual death of a man from a fourth-floor window, whilst being interrogated by the police. At first glance, it’s not the obvious subject for a comedy, but it is biting satire that hasn’t aged one bit. Narrative updates from Thomas Filsell bring the timeline up to date with references to fake news, Trump, and accusations of corruption at the highest levels.

Director Lesley Reed has assembled an all-female cast for this production, and their physical appearance is marvellous – most have glorious moustaches, one a tight perm, another a magnificent combover that flaps in the riotous movement on the stage. Gilian Cordell’s and Louise Lapans’ costumes with Kathryn Stevens’ hairstyles are stars of the show as much as the performers.

Olivia Jane Parker is brilliant as the aggressive police inspector Bertozzo. Unrecognisable behind her exceptional head of hair and beer belly, Parker is full of swaggering maschismo and confidence.

Ashleigh Merriell does so well as the Constable(s), being in almost every scene, but usually as the butt of the comedy initiated from the others - Merriell ensures there’s always something happening in the background, never breaks character, always makes us chuckle with her exaggerated facial expressions and hand-waving.

The Superintendent is played by Georgia Stockham – she inhabits the smiling policeman, equally ready with a political platitude or aggressive threat. Stockham’s physicality in this role is exceptional, revealing subtle detail of how the man responds to stress and utterly convincing as he recreates and reacts to the fateful event, anew for our entertainment - and horror!

Anita Zamberlan Canala’s Pissani is a smooth, cool and less in-your-face policeman than the others – stylish and he knows it, cracking only when the story doesn’t quite stack up. His male ‘power-move’ on the female journalist is unexpected, ridiculous but recognisable, and laugh-out-loud.

The journalist – the only character intended to be female – is played by Kyla Booth, and it’s an uncomfortable dynamic to have the other ‘men’ hitting on the Italian woman in a short skirt. Once again, the satire bites down hard when you’re not expecting it.

But it’s the manic Dannii Zappia as the Maniac who steals the show: a master of disguise, knows his way around the law, and the people who abuse it. The amazing Zappia sets an unforgiving pace as she moves between noms-de-plume and disguises, to the extent that even the audience aren’t always entirely sure who the real Maniac is. Zappia’s knowing acknowledgement of the audience does more than entice us closer to the action, it enlists us as witnesses to the self-recrimination she teases from the offending police. And she has the smartest lines in the play, to toy with the hapless policemen who are never quite sure if they’re being buttered up or set up.

It’s hilarious because of more than its clever dialogue – you forget these are all women on stage: you just see the comical men and the physical comedy is rife from the start: with Parker’s Bertozzo struggling to get out of a chair, and then slamming into a filing cabinet or a wall. When the inspector gets aggressive, the lightness and hilarity of the cartoon violence is balanced brilliantly with the darkness it represents – the slapstick is exceptional in design (from Bronwyn Palmer) and its execution by all the performers. The humour extends to the excellent set (designed by Erik Strauts and Eleni Taylor), with filing cabinets labelled quietly with phrases like ‘Big Fish’ and ‘Scapegoats’; and the scene transition from the first to fourth floor is an amusing piece in its own right.

What Director Reed has achieved is to bring a stage overflowing with superb acting talent, thrown in elements of Marx (Groucho more than Karl), a dash of Commedia dell’Arte, and lashings of hot, contemporary satire, to deliver a cracking, comical story with a dark undertone, that excels in all aspects of its production. There are not many plays you can chuckle through from curtain up to house lights, yet still emerge shocked and informed about the ongoing corruption of power.

A tremendous production from Lesley Reed and Stirling Players that needs to be seen.

Review by Mark Wickett