The Piccolo Theatro’s “Miracle In Milan”

On the opening night of Miracle in Milan at the Piccolo Teatro Strehler, the excitement of the audience, flocking into the 968-seater auditorium, was tangible. Seventy-five years after the eponymous, neorealist film came out, which shows a Milan, still in ruins after the Allied bombings in World War Two, and the Milanese in the process of recovering from the trauma of war, the Piccolo Teatro’s new stage production was about to unfold.

In the 1951 film, Miracolo a Milano, director Vittorio De Sica and screenwriter Cesare Zavattini created what has been described as “a beautiful fable”, with a happy ending. This artistic form was probably just what was needed, given the brutality of the Fascist era and the hardship of the Second World War. The present two-act play, penned by Paolo di Paolo, and directed by Claudio Longhi, uses material from the film and Zavattini’s well-known children’s book, Totò, the Good. A novel for children that can also be read by adults. The subtitle is significant, ironically pointing to the fact that the author wishes to address not only children, but a general readership. After all, the main themes of the story – good and evil, rich and poor, greed and generosity – involve all human beings.

The extensive research on the part of the Piccolo’s creative team and what must have been complex rehearsals for a forty-six strong cast have borne fruit. Add to this, Guia Buzzi’s lavish sets, Gianluca Sbicca’s gorgeous 1940s costumes, stunning lighting by Manuel Frenda, Riccardo Frati’s evocative visual design, and the result is a spectacular production.

The opening scene, in a gleaming white bedroom, shows Lolotta and Totò, the two protagonists of the story, saying their goodbyes. Flowers abound, and an aged Lolotta (played by Giulia Lazzarini), dressed in a white, lace nightgown and nightcap, lies on her death bed. Beside her, sits Totò, dressed in black (played by Lino Guanciali), whom she rescued from under a cabbage in her garden when he was still a tiny baby. A small cabbage patch at the foot of the bed, alludes to the vegetable garden in the film. Still this moment, tantamount to a black and white dream from the past, is immediately undercut, without explanation. Two doctors barge into the room, examining Lolotta and displaying a business-like efficiency in dealing with her imminent death. Immediately after, a film sequence shows a funeral hearse, wending its way along one of Milan’s canal roads, with Toto’s tiny figure, bringing up the rear. As at other times in the play, the De Sica film is projected onto a large screen, conjuring up a post-war Milan, still recognisable in 2026, but radically and irrevocably changed. The surreal, dreamlike atmosphere of this beginning continues throughout.

Di Paolo deftly gives Toto some direct audience addresses, which a charismatic Lino Guanciali performs downstage, informing the audience that he will guide us through his story. Especially in the first Act, Toto’s story is told in fast-paced episodic scenes, skilfully directed by Claudio Longhi. One scene shows the harsh reality of the orphanage, where a strict religious education and hard work are central. When Toto finally comes of age, the world outside the orphanage is equally challenging. The postwar industrial boom is beginning, and in the screenplay, Zavattini alludes ironically to the ‘Miracle of Milan’, when the Milanese, through hard work and enterprise, manage to resuscitate their city from the ruins, achieving an economic boom, but at the same time, speculation and ruthlessness are rife.

Totò experiences both sides of the ‘Miracle’, the good and bad, the generosity and greed. The scene of the shantytown, which this young man has managed to set up, shows him finding love, friendship and a home with other destitute people. Their peace is shattered, however, when a wealthy speculator, Signor Mobbi and the land’s owner show up in huge black cars, with an eviction order. The large cast, made up of professional actors and students from the Piccolo Theatre’s Drama Academy, come together to create a deeply dramatic confrontation, in which the wealthy speculators, dressed in elegant, fur trimmed overcoats and bowlers, threaten Toto and his dishevelled friends. Things turn nasty and tension rises as armed police arrive, the eviction seemingly averted by Mobbi’s sudden change of heart. Once again, we are reminded that we are in the world of a magic realism, where bad can turn to good and vice-versa in the wink of an eye.

When the film of Miracolo a Milano first appeared, it was shunned by some Italian critics as too spiritual and too religious, aspects which are seen clearly when Lolotta re-appears as a ghost, together with two white-clad angels, to give Toto a white dove. The gift allows him to fulfil a series of small miracles, as he fulfils the wishes of the inhabitants of the shantytown community. Somebody asks for a sewing machine, another, for a bicycle, and these consumer goods, being quickly manufactured in local factories, miraculously materialise. Showing the goodness of a Saviour, Totò satisfies their wishes. However, these poor folk are soon asking for millions, if not billions. In Zavattini’s ‘beautiful fable’, miracles may happen, but he does not spare us a bitter truth about human beings: poor and rich are capable of greed and egoism.

While for much of the three hours’ running time, Toto’s tragicomic story proved captivating, the last forty minutes felt drawn out. However, when the show finally came to a close, the spectacular flight of Toto and his new love, Edwige, on a broomstick, over Milan’s magnificent Cathedral and central square, gave the play the much-awaited exhilarating finale. There was a long, enthusiastic final applause, and a standing ovation for Giulia Lazzarini, a truly memorable Lolotta, much of whose long career – the actor is 92 – has been spent at the Piccolo Teatro.

This stage version of Miracolo a Milano made me ponder on Milan’s recent past and present. Today the semi-central areas of Lambrate and Navigli, where the film was shot, are fairly affluent, the centre, very rich, but poverty and homelessness still exist in far-flung suburbs. The goodness and solidarity embodied in the figure of Totò are still elusive. The Mr Mobbis of this world are on the rise, in the shape of Italians as well as international investors.

 

Miracolo a Milano runs from 4 March to 1 April at the Piccolo Teatro Strehler Milan.