Dancing On The Edge of Death
As part of this year’s summer program, Casteliers brought Gaspare Nasuto, a puppeteer from Naples, to Montreal for a series of Pulcinella performances in several public parks a couple of weeks ago. I’ve seen videos of this squeaky-voiced little masked puppet. I’ve written a piece about one of his famous Neapolitan interpreters, Bruno Leone (see my blog archive). But I’ve never seen a live performance, so I drove down to Outremont to experience a live show.
Pulcinella is the oldest character in European puppet theatre. He jumped off the stage of the Commedia in 17th century Naples and proceeded to invade Europe, transforming himself into Punch in England, Kaspar in Germany and Jan Klaassen in the Netherlands. (In France he kept his own name—but was gradually displaced by the Lyonese silk-worker, Gignole.) Centuries later his antics continue to amuse diverse audiences; he also inspires contemporary puppeteers whose shows bear little apparent resemblance to the original. (I myself am creating his Canadian version: The Adventures of Vi, Transsexual Warrior.)
What’s the secret of his longevity?
I got to the park a bit early. It was sunny and still cool. About fifty white plastic armchairs were ranged in a big semi-circle in front of a low platform on which stood an elegant puppet booth, draped in brownish-red brocade. Families started to appear, often with strollers, and the kids knew exactly what to do: they sat in bunches on the astroturf in front of the stage, happy and expectant. They’d been to puppet shows before. Chatting parents gradually filled the ring of white chairs. Thin music, bright with a strong beat, began to play through two speakers on either side of the platform.
Nasuto appeared. He looked like a student, in torn blue jeans and a black golf shirt: large-eyed and pale, intense, a bit aloof, with a shock of loose black hair, his forearms heavily tattooed. He mounted the platform, offered the crowd a shy wave and bowed. Then he knocked on the floor of the booth, calling out, “Pulcinella.”
No answer.
He knocked and called again.
“Pulcinella?”
No answer.
He parted the front curtains, prompting a burst of shrill swazzle protest. The crowd laughed, and Nasuto recoiled in mock fear. He tried again, with the same result. On the third attempt he was able to step cautiously into the booth and disappear. And then Pulcinella appeared above, dancing around on the stage and half-singing, half-chanting in his swazzle squeak to a strong, clappable beat: a tiny figure, much smaller than any Punch, all in white, hooded with a black mask that covered the top part of his face. The show had begun.
It offered about forty minutes of outstanding hand-puppetry, with fast, often stunning timing and enormous physical dexterity. Pulcinella and his stage companions are small: no outsized Punch heads and bandy legs, no gaping Sesame-Street mouths and eyes. Yet these tiny animated figures grabbed and maintained our interest and inspired our laughter. The kids were constantly calling out and pointing, warning Pulcinella that the big jaws of the dog, or the black-hooded skeleton of Death, were right behind him.
In Nasuto’s version, the stock themes are gentler than others that I’ve seen. He substitutes a dog for the traditional crocodile: the same mouth and huge teeth, but fuzzy and warm-blooded, potentially a puppet you can stroke (and after the show, some kids did). There’s a coffin rather than a gallows, and the relationship between Pulcinella and his pretty wife is tender, not abusive—as it is with Punch.
Here’s a carefully constructed eight-minute video that offers highlights of his approach, along with floating English background text.
Over lunch, I suggested that his routines are really about defying death, and Nasuto agreed. Pulcinella is the eternal spirit of life and insurrection, who never gives up, always fights back, and is constantly taking risks and defying authority. He’s boastful and foolish, but he’s also brave, and his courage is fully human, since he shakes with fear. In Nasuto’s version, the show begins and ends with love and that’s important. It’s about the three things that matter most in our existence: love, death and courage.