Antonio Vega and Ana Graham of Mexico City’s Por Piedad Teatro deliver moving performances in a shtick-heavy play. (Carol Rosegg)
‘working on a Special Day” is one of those shows that takes pains to constantly remind you that you’re watching THEATER. This is a simple story of an emotionally charged encounter between a harried Italian housewife and a charming neighbor during Hitler’s 1938 visit to Mussolini’s Italy. But it’s been gussied up with enough self-conscious theatrical flourishes to fill a dozen fringe festivals.
Based on Ettore Scola’s acclaimed 1977 film starring Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni, the production is a collaboration between the Obie-winning Play Company (“Invasion!”) and Mexico City’s Por Piedad Teatro, with Mexican performers Ana Graham and Antonio Vega both starring and directing.
As we enter the theater, we’re greeted in friendly fashion by the actors, who proceed to change into period costumes and assemble minimal props around the stage. Throughout the show, they draw the rest of the scenery using chalk on the bare black walls — windows, lighting fixtures, a birdcage — while adding appropriate sound effects along the way.
Antonietta (Graham) has stayed home while her husband and children have gone to take part in the fascist rally. When her pet parrot escapes and flies into an apartment occupied by bachelor Gabriel (Vega), her unexpected arrival interrupts his suicide attempt.
The two souls, each lonely in their own way, quickly form a bond that turns romantic despite the fact that Gabriel is a homosexual — a dangerous thing to be in fascist Italy. Their meeting, however brief, has a deep effect on them both.
This poignant and frequently funny tale is made even more moving by the wonderful performances by the two actors, who inhabit their roles in deeply heartfelt fashion.
But the relentless gimmickry of the staging, clever as it is, distracts more than enhances. At first it’s amusing when one of the performers draws a telephone after making the sound of it ringing, or a swirl of smoke while puffing on an imaginary cigarette. But after a while the shtick wears thin, calling so much attention to the artificiality of the proceedings that we’re jolted from the story. We get it, this is not real . . . it’s pretend. Must we be reminded of it every minute?