One night at the Opera dei Pupi in Palermo
The little green door on Via Bara all’Olivella is still closed. It might look like a craftsman’s workshop, like many others on the same street, except for the chivalric scenes painted on the doors and the sign that reads “Opera dei Pupi, theatre founded in 1973 by Mimmo Cuticchio”.
A blonde, blue-eyed woman, far from the image we usually have of Sicilians, opens the door and asks: «Have you booked?». For my trip to Palermo, I had only planned to walk around the city, visit some typical open-air markets and taste “pani câ meusa”, then… No, I have not booked, and the next show will be in a week.
Opera dei Pupi: Unesco Heritage
The Opera dei Pupi is a traditional puppet show inspired by the themes and characters of chivalric cycles like La chanson de Roland or the Orlando Furioso. It is such an important tradition that it has been part of Unesco Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity since 2008.
Those who visit Sicily for the first time rarely attend such performances, but puppets are among the best-selling souvenirs on the island. Puppets used on stage, though, have distinctive features that depend on their origin: Palermo or Catania. Catanese-style puppets can be one and a half meters tall and weigh up to 30 Kg, almost like a child.
Today, few people still enact shows following the traditional rules, and tonight I’m hoping to see one of the most representative families of Palermo’s puppets: that of Mimmo Cuticchio.
Memorising the verses of poems
In the meantime, the blonde girl provides some details: «Our grandparents came to the shows every day. They memorised the poems, dreamt of being knights». But not everyone looked favourably on this passion. Some accused those shows of fueling aggression and being a model of Mafia behaviour.
Starting from the 1950s, however, television and other amusements took young people away from the theatres. «Now we only perform on weekends,» the woman clarifies, «and the episodes that make up a full story run out in a few weeks. In the past, they could go on for a whole year».
Waiting with me are Koreans, British, French, and Americans. Foreigners are interested in the Opera dei Pupi, although it is performed in Sicilian, a language which is hard to understand even for an Italian. «Stay in line, please» the young woman states. «There is room for everyone».
A magic theatre
The theatre’s walls are decorated with chivalric episodes. The stage is proportionate to the size of the “actors”. Lights fade out, and the cheerful tune of a mechanical piano starts playing. The curtain unveils a miniature scenography with painted wings and rolling backdrops, to quickly switch the setting.
A fairy tale comes to life: love, adventure, and duels scenes are so intense I forget I’m just watching puppets. The din of battle is coupled with the rumble of an earthquake, produced by the loud tapping of puppeteers’ feet on wooden boards.
«The Pupi were not intended for children. They were primarily aimed at an audience of adult males», the girl had said. Now it’s clear what she meant. In one scene, Rinaldo fights against the Saracens and cuts them in half with his sword, blows their heads off, and shear off their arms. Their limbs and corpses accumulate in a huge pile.
Gestures are amazing. Smaller and more manageable puppets from Palermo can do things that those from Catania are not allowed to do: kneel, unsheathe their swords, lower the visor of their helmets, ride horses and perform in poses that mimic 19th-century prose theatre.
In the end, as expected, Rinaldo wins, but the story is kept in suspense. Unfortunately, the next performance will be in a week, but before I leave the theatre, the Pupi gift me one last burst of magic. Huge legs, arms and heads appear as if giants had invaded the stage. They are the puppeteers who take applause along with their “actors”. Then they dismantle the backdrops and answer questions before the audience leave.
Outside the theatre, the ordinary world now appears unreal. Two British passers-by look up at the sign and comment: «Ah, Puppet Opera. It looks interesting!» Next to them, someone thinks otherwise: «Adults who still go to see puppets?». I smile and feel sorry for them because they ignore the precious world hidden behind that little green door on Via Bara all’Olivella.
All photos: Pierpaolo Ferlaino
