The changes sweeping across Italy after Mussolini’s downfall in 1945 were underscored by dilemmas. The monarchy was tainted by its association with fascism. At the same time, a majority in the impoverished South believed abolishing the monarchy would invalidate the sacrifice of millions of Italians. The scene was set for a referendum to decide its fate.

It is against this background that the plot of Repubblica, a new play written and directed by Bonham Bax, unfolds. On the island of Lipari, the messy dichotomy between the personal and the political plays out through the romance of the protagonists. I find the choice of location apt. A geographically and culturally segregated Italian island where everyone knows each other’s business creates a densely claustrophobic atmosphere. Private lives become public spectacles and simply eating ice cream together becomes a political act.

"Repubblica reinvigorates an understudied period of history and makes it relevant for the 21st-century viewer”

Nedda is a new arrival on Lipari who is castigated for her haughty Northern airs. She falls for local boy Flavio, a member of the powerful Vitale clan, while unsuccessfully trying to suppress her background as the daughter of Mussolini’s right-hand man. The couple’s choice to pursue one another against the prevailing winds of Liparian public opinion generates the central conflict of the play.

Emma Scott skillfully captures Nedda’s misplaced confidence through a jaunty delivery of Katharine Hepburn quotes and humourous anecdotes used to obscure her dark past. Scott is extremely attentive in allowing us only faint snapshots — whether an unexpected curse or a broom thrown in rage — of the hateful ideology Nedda was inculcated with during her youth.

Charles Gordon’s Flavio compliments Nedda excellently. The optimism and political savvy of the character are brought out by Gordon’s command of the stage. Walking through the space as if he owns it, Gordon fosters palpable chemistry with Nedda by matching her wit in seamless interchanges.

“Bax’s minimalist staging signals a keen sensitivity to the creation of a theatrical space”

The supporting cast also deserves equal mention. Abi Collingwood, as Maria, delivers one of the more understated if heartbreaking conclusions to any of Repubblica’s characters. Her path from illiteracy to wisdom brings only a passive acceptance of Nedda’s ostracisation. However, the clear star of the show was Alexander Velody who was absolutely terrifying as Tuccius. Velody’s booming voice combined with his imposing muscular figure brought an aggressive masculine presence on stage. That presence makes for a gut punch of a scene as he forces himself upon Nedda. The sexual assault takes place offstage but is allowed to be excruciatingly imagined — in almost Hitchcockian fashion — when the dishevelled figure of Nedda returns to the stage.

The production utilised few props: a table, chairs, a tricolour flag and some logs. Lighting was provided by powerful white beams that struck the yellowing concrete in the Fitzwilliam College Auditorium. For the duration of the play, the terrifying brutalism of fascist architecture re-emerged on stage. It was as if the political burdens dividing Liparian society transformed into a physical prison to oppress the performers. This minimalist staging deployed by Bax signals a keen sensitivity to the creation of a theatrical space that evokes the new republic’s uncomfortable authoritarian origins.

Repubblica reinvigorates an understudied period of history and makes it relevant for the 21st-century viewer. The play is especially satisfying when it makes connections to contemporary Britain. North/South socio-economic disparities, the role of the monarchy and a reflection on the plight of women transcend that temporal gap while exposing urgent debates within our own society. Repubblica does not present set answers to these issues but asks us to be more attentive to both sides of a story.

I was left truly mystified by Repubblica’s conclusion. It ends uncertainly, as the star-crossed lovers delay their escape until the following morning — which we never get to see. Perhaps that is Bax’s point. As he explained to me after the show, “The absence of clear answers reflects history’s lack of empirical lessons”. There are no winners or losers at the end of the play. Inherent to any dilemma is some form of tradeoff. If the couple does not hand themselves over then Italy will — as it still does to this day — never move on from its collective amnesia of the fascist ‘ventennio’ (twenty years). Yet, in giving themselves up, they will no doubt be separated from one another and executed. Bax shows the dilemma between the political and the personal cannot be separated. Each decision the couple makes always has wider repercussions. As Nedda bluntly puts it, “We are political”. It is left up to the audience to figure out which of these bitter pills they would rather swallow.

Ultimately, Repubblica is a delightful reminder that the Cambridge theatre scene ought to be recognised for its dramatic, as well as, its comedic prowess. This fantastic portrayal of the ongoing contest between the different institutions that drive us: emotions, governments, gossip and family finds its best expression in this quaint story of a little island in the Mediterranean.

Repubblica was performed in the Fitzwilliam College Auditorium on the 14th of April, 2023. There are plans for a Edinburgh Fringe performance, and screenings of the filmed version to be held at various colleges and societies in Easter term.