La Magnani

HAND CRAFTED Gambacorta strikes a passionate pose.

Photograph: Kelly Giulianan

On the night she waits to hear if she won the Oscar for her performance in The Rose Tattoo, why would Anna Magnani write a letter filled with biographical information to Tattoo author Tennessee Williams? By that point, the two had known one another for nearly six years. It’s a question that persists throughout La Magnani, a sketchy solo about the fiery Italian star written by and featuring Theresa Gambacorta.

As Magnani mentally composes her fictional note, a full chronological memoir emerges. Gambacorta presents the details as fragmented vignettes (accompanied by Jorge Arroyo’s angular lighting and David Pinkard’s atmospheric original score, giving events a Fellini-esque feel). The stylistic homage to Italian filmmakers of the ’50s and ’60s is the most interesting aspect of director Elizabeth Kemp’s production, as Gambacorta’s shorthand approach is all too familiar. Childhood memories give way to recollections of early stage appearances. Ill-fated romances—including her notorious breakup with Roberto Rossellini—alternate with growing fame. During these trials, Magnani cares for a son crippled by polio.

Gambacorta delivers a performance of overstated power and unbridled passion: a one-note rendering of an actor who—though remembered for her dynamic flamboyance—could display great subtlety in even her most over-the-top turns. It’s an interpretation that may lead theatergoers unfamiliar with Magnani’s work to wonder why she’s considered one of the great actors of the 20th century. — Andy Propst