This show is an arm in the manhole looking for a lost key, in the face of those who are happy to stay on the surface and walk on the sidewalk. But there is a lot of good. It is popular, it is an anti-psychological theater, bordering on Variety. It is rather a show to change location, to go to a new audience, to help build or strengthen an identity, preserving enthusiasm and rediscovered pride. And modernity, where is it? In the folds of these attempts, in the scenes of Geppino Cilento, in the costumes of Annamaria Morelli, in the talent of the actors. What have we discovered? That Pulcinella, despite the transformations he has undergone over the centuries, in the authors and performers, is always the son of Malora Nera, he comes from the underworld, it is not consoling but disturbing, just as disturbing is the hint of a possible pregnancy. That his dreams are agitated, that Pulcinella is between the plebs (Totonno and Teresa) and the lower middle class (Feliciello and Uncle Paolo). The passage from Hell to Paradise is told by Felice but in reality it belongs to Pulcinella. From the primitive mask to a petty bourgeois comfort, from myth to history, from magic to reality. But not even Petito can force him into his new dimension: he remains on this side of the classes. He is the only one of us who can afford it.
