The Voice of Those Left Behind

Originally written in Italian for Stratagemmi. Link to the original article

In mapping the contours of this fifth edition of FringeMi, a recurring thread emerges across the festival’s official programme: the artist staging themselves. Most of the works use the first person, bringing the performer’s biographical identity onto the stage and dissecting the mental constructions that surround it. This is not a new device in contemporary performance, but one that continues to evolve. What remains compelling about this approach is its attempt to anchor itself firmly in real experience, rejecting fiction and the appropriation of other identities.

In stark counterpoint stands Francesca Astrei’s Mi manca Van Gogh, winner of the 2023 Milan Fringe. While retaining the same drive towards a focused investigation of contemporary issues, Astrei distinguishes her work through a decisive shift of perspective: she chooses to tell the story of another. The dramaturgy is developed from a recent real-life case.

In the performance, the visit of a chaotic and unruly group to a museum hall becomes the pretext for an incursion into the memories of a young tour guide, played by Astrei and the only presence on stage. Her commentary on a painting by Van Gogh unfolds into a stream of consciousness, through which she draws a parallel between the life of the Dutch painter and that of her university friend Michela. Both, to quote Antonin Artaud, are suicidés de la société: rejected and suffocated by society until driven towards death. After her ex-boyfriend shared an intimate video of them online, Michela chose suicide in order to escape humiliation and public exposure.

This painful story is mediated through the perspective of Astrei’s unnamed character. After all, it is the survivors who are left to testify, to face unresolved questions and to live with a suffocating sense of powerlessness. The dark, empty Spazio Polline, located underground next to the turnstiles of Villapizzone station, provides an ideal setting. In this stripped-down space, Astrei’s voice guides the audience’s imagination, evoking places, objects and people through language alone. The honesty and organic quality of her performance generate a deep sense of empathy and emotional proximity.

Particularly effective is the constant shift between comic and tragic registers. These two modes are set side by side and sometimes interwoven, producing a fragmented discourse full of tension and interruptions. This oscillation becomes a metaphor for everyday life itself, which rarely leaves room for the expression of pain and yet demands a response even when we no longer have the strength to give one. From suicide to revenge porn, from social pressure to the paralysis caused by death, the performance emerges as an intimate, delicate and deeply contemporary work.