From Times Square to Dante: My Time in Ravenna

“So...why are you here?”

It’s a question I got countless times. 

Coming from New York City, I found myself in the small Italian city of Ravenna to work for a theatre company, thanks to an award granted to me by UPenn's Italian Department. I have always been infatuated with theatre—and reasonably so, growing up in the home of Broadway, the capital of theatrical talent, innovation, and creativity. And somehow, I ended up 4,178 miles—two planes and a train ride—away from NYC to, well, do theatre. So it’s no surprise that Ravenna citizens, once I told them my background, questioned: “why are you here?” 

Ravenna has a population of 159,000 people. It is around 1/54th the size of the Big Apple. It has no skyscrapers, no noisy streets, and no late-night pizza. 

Yet it is breathtaking. 

Located in the Emilia-Romagna region of Northern Italy, Ravenna is a city that’s infused with history, art and culture. Eight of its monuments and churches are UNESCO World Heritage sites, cherished for their unique mosaics. In the past, Ravenna reigned as the capital of the Western Roman Empire during the 5th century and of the Byzantine Empire from the 6th to 8th centuries. Today, it houses important monuments such as Dante Alighieri’s Tomb, honoring the distinguished poet and remembering Ravenna as his place of passing. 

So although it might sit under the shadows of better-known cities—i.e., Rome, Florence, or Venice—it has plenty to offer. And its low-key characteristics are what render the city so charming. 

I had never heard of Ravenna before. Nonetheless, I was intrigued by the idea of integrating into a smaller community, immersing myself in a foreign country, and enhancing my Italian language skills—opportunities that were less possible in larger and more touristy cities where I could've easily fallen back on interacting with other foreigners. 

And while I would accomplish all of that, I’d be engaging with what I love most: theatre. It was a win-win. 

The theatre company I was collaborating with, Teatro delle Albe, is particular. Much of the Teatro’s work, which dates back to the 80s, taps into the roots of Italian culture while calling attention to some of the biggest questions Italy faces today. In the past, for instance, the Teatro used famous characters from the Commedia dell’arte while working with Senegalese immigrants, perceiving Renaissance literature through the lens of the modern European climate.

While I was in Ravenna, the Teatro was working on Dante’s La Divina Commedia, considered the most notable literary work of the Italian language. Italians feel very connected to and passionate about Dante’s poetry, having studied and re-studied it in school the same way we do Shakespeare. Moreover, the Albe’s project was suitable for Ravenna, considering that it hosts Dante’s tomb, which also provided the directors with an idea for the production’s starting points.

I was in Ravenna for six weeks. My time was only a small glimpse into the company’s five year-long project on La Divina Commedia, sectioned into three pieces: Inferno, performed in 2017, Purgatorio, what they did this year, and Paradiso, planned for 2021. The Albe brings Dante’s 13th century verse to contemporary audiences through a “Chiamata Pubblica” (A Public Call), which signifies that anyone and everyone can participate as much or as little as they desire. Participants play in different “Cori” (Choruses), who represent the various people Dante meets during his journey, and, for the most part, participants choose which “Coro” (Chorus) to play every night. 

The shows are based off the notion that every spectator represents Dante himself, and thus, the audience travels through Dante’s journey depicted in La Divina Commedia. Compared to typical theatre, there is no stage. In the case of this year’s Purgatorio, the “stage” was the city, Ravenna, as well as a massive garden the theatre shared with a retirement home and a musical institute. Guided by the Virgil—embodied by directors Marco and Ermanna—the audience (Dante) “climbed the Mountain of Purgatory.” As they traveled through a path that represented this Mountain, they encountered many figures and choruses, embodied both by professional actors and hundreds of participants, or ordinary citizens-turned-actors.

Along with the help of talented technicians, costume designers, and musicians, the directors achieved transforming the city and the garden into Purgatory Mountain, through every kind of logistic possible. When they placed singers on balconies dispersed throughout the city, various staff were responsible for opening and closing those balconies during the run. When they needed to add real grass to a stone lot, they ensured the area was routinely watered, and when a heavy rainstorm completely destroyed it, they compensated by filling it with hay. With the spreading of lights, speakers, and other set pieces throughout the entire journey’s path, it was clear that the production was meticulously handled and planned out. 

From my own experience, one day I could be signing up new participants five minutes before running off to stop traffic outside, protecting the production path from incoming cars. Another day, I could be inside, making sure no one entered or exited from the wrong door, while helping some people with their costumes. Overall, it was a detailed, team-effort management that required a great deal of flexibility, patience, and coordination. 

Regarding the script, the citizen-actors would recite Dante’s verses, interwoven with contemporary sections, through call-and-response. In some scenes, the contemporary lines were verses from renowned visual and literary artists, including Joseph Beuys and Walt Whitman.

In other cases, the citizens devised their own lines, such as in the terrace of the “Female Victims of Violent Death.” In this scene, the women had crafted their lines during past rehearsals, inspired by true experiences of male abuse, either towards them, siblings, friends, or other relatives. By connecting Dante’s writing to more personal and modern work, the production beautifully made Middle Aged poetry poignant and currently relevant. 

The scene that most sharply connected both eras was that of the “Wrathful.” Standing next to an enormous upside-down map of Italy, both Ravenna citizens and African migrants would recite Dante’s verses mixed with phrases about current politics, demonstrating how corruption from 700 years ago could mutate and still exist today. When foreigners occasionally arrived to participate in the show—including some from Nairobi, Kenya and Timisoara, Romania—they recited verses translated into their native language. Some nights, this scene was quadrilingual.

Evidently, the Teatro’s ability to accept distinct cultures and to introduce criticism and contrasting opinions rendered the production so special. The event was a fascinating dichotomy between the concreteness of centuries-old poetry, verses at the core of the Italian language, and an open dialogue that spread beyond societal norms and cultural familiarities. Thanks to the Teatro’s openness, almost 1,000 people were able to perform in the production.

Needless to say, I was in awe every night. I couldn’t believe the amount of people who were so willing to participate in the show, per piacere, from all realms and stages of life. Everyday, ordinary Ravenna people, from elementary-schoolers to bankers, from architects to university students, would show up to rehearse and perform, spending almost four hours of their nights with the theatre. For me, it was unheard of. Namely, asking anyone in the U.S. for even a half hour of their time seems like a burden. Yet for the Albe, they lured people into the show not only through a stunning production, but also by ensuring that everyone felt like family, either by hosting a pre-show ritual that brought everyone together, or by listening to people’s thoughts and concerns—from the difficulties of African immigrants to those of female victims of male violence. 

Everyday, ordinary Ravenna people, from elementary-schoolers to bankers, from architects to university students, would show up to rehearse and perform, spending almost four hours of their nights with the theatre.

As I sit and write this essay in my New York apartment—with the endless sounds of cars and fire trucks, surrounded by skyscrapers and by neighbors whose names I never even bothered learning—I can’t help but long for that family, that provincial city, that heart-warming and insightful show. While I enter the professional world of NYC theatre, a show biz that I was most familiar with and looked up to throughout my whole life, I am beyond grateful for my experience in Ravenna.

The opportunity I had to dive into a foreign language head-first, and in a professional field, proved challenging and worthwhile; to observe art, and specifically theatre, from a different and close-knit cultural perspective proved extremely valuable; and lastly, to embrace how a community can come together, no matter the differences within, in order to understand and learn more about the world, will prove priceless.