A wittily woven tale of displacement and loneliness
‘A woman holding onto a tree’ – or in reality a dead potted plant. The silent image greets audiences as they file into the basement space at Baron’s Court Theatre for Matilde Vigna’s one-woman show, A Dark Line Upstairs.
The story of starting anew, whether by choice or circumstance, takes the stage in two interwoven storylines: one of a community in Italy totally displaced by the Polesine Flood in 1951, and the other of a woman constantly on the move in London in 2021. Serving variously as writer, director, and performer, Vigna captures a unique persona with her wit and magnetic energy from the get-go, rarely missing a beat.
The uncomplicated set design becomes a flat in Peckham and a flooded river bank, with simple atmospheric and effective lighting design by Alice Colla. The scenography of the piece reaches its peak as the blue glow of the fog expands slowly towards the audience while Vigna’s illustrative narration details the rapidly rising river engulfing everything in its path.
The scenes of the flood are underpinned by a rapid rhythm evolving in the growing panic and chaos of the disaster. Alessio Foglia’s sound design grows organically throughout the progression of the flood memories, however, you feel an absence of the beautiful sound design in the contemporary scenes, which remain for the most part, silent.
While writing and performing in a one-woman show is already an ambitious undertaking, Vigna has given herself a monstrous task of also directing and producing her piece. Understandably, the staging remained simple. Although mostly effective, it yearned for more of an expansive presence in the thrust stage space of Baron’s Court. Sitting on house left or right, audiences may feel forgotten as most action is focussed head on. However, there remains an eloquence to her controlled movement and layered embodiment of the text. Commanding and uncomplicated staging lends itself to highlighting the dexterity of the language. Moreover, while the imagery of the narration is vivid and visceral, the dramaturgy of the slippage between the two worlds gets muddied. It’s occasionally unclear exactly what mirroring effect, philosophical analogy or emotional segué is being proposed by their juxtaposition.
The potency of the piece also hits home for those affected by or familiar with the recent flooding catastrophe in Texas. Although decades and worlds apart, it’s difficult not to compare the tragedies of ordinary lives being obliterated in a matter of moments by a natural disaster. Vigna expertly captures the visceral panic citizens of Polesine must have felt as they climbed to their highest floors rather than following orders to evacuate.
This is juxtaposed against the modern character of a woman on the move who decides to take everything except the pillowcases in her flat, including a bouquet of dead roses from a supposed jilted lover. As she struggles to board a train with her cumbersome load, she witnesses a mother with a simple crossbody bag, strapping a baby to her back, prompting her to remark, “could it be that simple?”
Purely engaging and enjoyable, Vigna brings an exceptionally literary mind and wry energy to her piece. It’s dextrous and lyrical, and if the theater craft is further lifted to the same level as the narrative flair, this show is destined to excel in future iterations.