‘Novecento’ gets a bit lost in translation

The lights were dimmed excepting a blue-filtered trickle that danced off the curved white wall of the Wright Theatre stage and the round “windows” that hung like the eye-like portals of a ship. They curved into a half moon outline that enclosed a stage empty but for the series of white columns stood toward the right, two of which framed an old piano. “Novecento,” a five-man adaptation of Alessandro Baricco’s monologue, is largely the story of an orphan who lives his entire life aboard the Virginian, an ocean liner, during the first part of the 20th century. Aside from his well-developed sea legs, there are two other notable things about the main character: his name — Danny Boodman T.D. Lemon Novecento — and his incredible affinity for the jazz piano. The play starred Sasha Hirsch ’09.5, a jazz pianist in his own right, and was adapted and directed by Nerina Cocchi ’10, who was inspired by her Italian grandmother’s stories of another era.

After reading the playwright’s note in the program, I was greatly anticipating being “transported into another universe, where I could forget what I was uselessly yearning for and just live the simple presence of that one single moment,” as Cocchi described her experience with the legend of “Novecento.” I was also fascinated by the prospect of viewing a play that was both translated and adapted from an Italian monologue — an extremely bold and laudable undertaking for an undergraduate theater major. My excitement rose when Peter Coccoma ’12 walked on stage dressed like Christopher Reeve straight out of “Somewhere in Time.” I was looking forward, very much, to traveling back to a bygone era with the charming, trumpet-playing Tim Tooney and his adopted Southern drawl.

Hirsch’s first appearance was not quite so elegant — he resembled a cross between a preppie sailor and a baboon, galloping across the sparse stage like a hairless Tarzan. Bizarre as it was, the action served to heighten the level of drama that had been lost in the expository section following Coccoma’s introduction. Too often during the play, one character would take on the role of storyteller in what I can only assume was a well-meant attempt to capture the magic of Cocchi’s grandmother’s tales. Unfortunately, the long bouts of description came across more like a librarian speaking to children during circle time than the poetic moment that I think the playwright/director was shooting for, and for which I was hoping.

Despite the slightly awkward re-imagining of Novecento’s beginnings, the audience could not help but be fully entranced from the moment Hirsch touched the first key to the end of Novecento’s introduction to the piano. The careful transition from the first few suspicious notes to the ethereal threads of melody that followed managed to recapture the magic and charm that the beginning of the play had promised. It was only my anticipation of another round of his incredible piano-playing that enabled me to forgive the strange interpretive dance that accompanied him the second time he played. As Novecento and Tooney sat at the piano, the remaining actors swept onto the stage holding what looked like a flat chunk of granite attached to string. Back and forth they swung the rock, in time with the music. Closer and closer they sank as the music softened, until they met the ground, and then, thankfully, they fled the stage. A word of advice: if you are going to write interpretive dancing into your play, make sure it is not side-by-side with amazing musical talent. It tends to come across as somewhat tacky.

And while we’re on the subject of tackiness, I think it necessary to address the cheap sexual humor that finds itself woven between scenes, usually during Tooney’s (Coccoma’s) reflections. I think we all know that Emily Pinto ’12’s “never got off” line was not referring to anything boat-related, nor was it or any of the other awkward, supposedly-sexually-charged moments, really related to anything else in the play. The only possible purpose that these moments might have served was to endear Tooney that much more to the audience — his complete and utter rejection of the rather horny Kathy Robertson (Pinto) in deference to his friend’s troubles was rather touching (ridiculous innuendo intended?). But really all of this just adds up to my larger claim that the female characters, in general, were rather superfluous to both the action and the story in “Novecento.” I like Cocchi’s method of using a lot of different voices to tell the story of Novecento and to demonstrate how he was able to touch (sorry, sorry) so many lives despite never once having stepped foot off the Virginian. I think that this effect, had it been more carefully executed, would have been extremely successful. Unfortunately, as it was, the two female characters only served to chop up the action in unsatisfying ways. For instance, when Novecento is “dueling” with Jelly Roll Morton and takes out a cigarette and places it in Morton’s mouth, the audience is already captivated by the bold young man. Sandra Robetta’s (Martina Bonolis ’10) overemphasized scoot across the floor and toward him was, at that moment, just as unnecessary as the aforementioned failed attempts to seduce. This play is about the poignant bond of friendship between Tooney and Novecento, two men, and I wish that Cocchi and Co. would have accepted this fact, and left the females out of it.

Oh, and then there was more interpretive dancing. Balls on string, scarves, juggling — enough said.

Detrimental commentary aside, there were a number of pleasing and effective moments in the play. In one particular section, Cocchi managed to pin down a bit of her grandmother’s magic during one of Novecento’s monologues following the duel scene. Hirsch delivered a hauntingly beautiful, and perfectly humble, speech in which he wove a metaphor between pictures falling off of the wall for no reason at all, and “looking into a mirror and realizing that you don’t love her anymore” and his sudden desire to step off the ship for the first time. For a moment, the beautiful microcosm that was Novecento’s life aboard the Virginian became as mysterious and wonderful as the beginning of the play had promised. This small, but gorgeous, realization led lithely into an equally pure interaction between Tooney and his friend. When Novecento expresses his desire to walk on land, Tooney tells him, “I’ll give you my camel hair coat and you’ll look great walking down the gangway, in the camel hair coat.” The repetition of the camelhair coat was perfectly boyish and swoonworthy in its own, small way.

I wish that the play had ended when, a few moments later, Novecento made his way down the plank, lights dim and surrounded by fog — the silhouette of his figure would have made for a striking final frame. Unfortunately, the play did not end with Novecento’s ultimate decision to stay onboard. No, instead, the play devolved into its unfortunate habit of exposition and forced poetics. When Novecento ends up in heaven with two right arms, I was laughing, when I certainly did not want to be. I certainly didn’t realize I would be getting a seemingly Nyquil-influenced lecture on theology when I walked into Wright Theatre.

Novecento “was a number, now it’s a name,” as one of the two female characters said at the start of the play. A number, a name —and it had the potential to be a great play, as well. Cocchi certainly had a beautiful concept, as well as her work cut out for her in making it materialize. Unfortunately for Cocchi and Co., the beauty and magic of Novecento’s story just ended up a little lost in translation.