If you reviewed your own show, how would you describe it?
Ten Ways to Die Happy is a highly structured participatory performance that involves the entire audience. Ten spectators are randomly selected and may choose whether to take part; those who accept join the performer onstage, always voluntarily and never in an exposed or uncomfortable way. The rest of the audience contributes actively from the auditorium, shaping the ten possible lives that constitute the core of the dramaturgy. At the heart of the piece is Time: how we imagine it, how we spend it, how we project our possible lives, and what it means to “use it well”. The performance is playful, energetic, and engaging, while also offering spectators a chance to reflect deeply on their own lives — without any didactic tone.
Tell me a little more about your show and what audiences can expect?
Anyone who chooses to take part won’t regret it. But if you’d rather not participate, that’s absolutely fine, you’ll never be forced to join in. If you just want to sit back and enjoy the show, you can do exactly that without being put on the spot. It’s going to be a lot of fun, and if you come with friends and someone from your group gets selected to participate, you’ll definitely have plenty to laugh about and talk over while enjoying a beer together after the show.
Can you talk about some of the creative team involved?
I wrote the show together with Jacopo Giacomoni, one of Italy’s leading playwrights and writers, whose work was featured at this year’s Venice Biennale. The scenography is created by Francesco Fassone, an architect and designer who has developed installations, performances, and exhibition projects for leading theatres, museums, and contemporary art institutions around the world.
The sound environment is conceived by Riccardo Tesorini, an electronic music composer and sound designer whose work has been presented at major international festivals across Europe, Asia, and North America. Costume design is by Costanza Maramotti, whose background in high-end fashion and textile research brings a distinctive visual elegance to the production.
Together, their expertise gives the performance a strong artistic identity, combining visual design, sound, space, and dramaturgy to create an immersive experience that goes well beyond conventional audience participation.
Where do you draw inspiration from for your work, both in terms of creation and performance?
It’s different for every show. Sometimes my inspiration comes from the world around me and the society we live in; sometimes it comes from personal experiences, and other times from thoughts I can’t shake or things I’ve read.
The one constant is that I’m not interested in making work about subjects I already have clear answers to. I’m much more interested in exploring the questions and uncertainties that stay with me. Those questions have to challenge me first, because that’s what pushes me to find the most effective ways of sharing them with an audience.
Looking at this production, how would you say it links to previous work personally and thematically?
Structurally, I think this production is quite different from my previous work — it’s something of an outlier. As both a writer and a writer-director, I’ve always created what one Italian critic described as “a contemporary reworking of the well-made play”: carefully scripted works with no improvisation or audience participation. This piece was a complete structural experiment.
Thematically, however, it’s very much in line with everything else I’ve made. I’m not interested in creating didactic theatre or telling audiences what to think. Instead, I try to make work that remains open to interpretation and asks more questions than it answers. In this case, those questions revolve around the relationship between time, the choices we make, and each of our own ideas of what it means to be happy.
Why is this an important story to tell?
Many audience members have told us afterwards that, throughout the performance, they found themselves reflecting on the choices they’ve made in their own lives. They started wondering what might have happened if they had chosen differently, and how their present might look today if they had taken another path. I think that’s why this story matters. It creates a space where people can reflect on their own lives, not by offering answers, but by inviting them to imagine the possibilities that every choice contains.
What would you like audiences to take away from seeing this production at the Fringe?
I’d like audiences to leave with a stronger awareness of how quickly time passes, and of the fact that many of the choices we make are irreversible. More than anything, I hope they leave asking themselves one simple but important question: “When it all comes down to it, what really matters to me?”
Do you tend to take inspiration from events happening in the world around you in terms of your work? Do you think artists have a responsibility to respond to what’s happening?
I think artists have a responsibility to be honest with themselves. I see a lot of artists making work about the subjects they feel they ought to address, where a perceived sense of social responsibility becomes both the main motivation and the primary source of the creative process.
In those cases, the result is often theatre that feels didactic and instructional, and, paradoxically, quite reassuring, because it ends up being seen mostly by people who already agree with the ideas being presented. I’m much more interested in art that unsettles, opens up debate, and challenges the way we see things. That’s simply my own approach — it’s how I’m wired. And precisely because of that, I try to be honest with myself and with my relationship to the creative process.
That’s the only responsibility I truly feel I have.
What do you do to relax in August?
I usually go to the seaside and spend a lot of time swimming. But this year, I think I’ll be relaxing by drinking a few beers in Edinburgh instead.
How do you feel about the current arts landscape in your country and your part in it? Does it excite you and inspire you to keep pushing the boat out?
I think Italian theatre is going through a real generational shift, along with a renewed appreciation for playwrights and original writing.
For decades, very few contemporary plays were included in Italian theatre seasons, and only a handful of Italian playwrights found recognition abroad. Over the last ten years, that has started to change, thanks to the work and success of many colleagues. Today, I think it’s fair to say that Italy has an extraordinary generation of playwrights, a real new Italian wave of dramatic writing. Their styles and approaches are very different, but among artists between the ages of 25 and 50 there is an exceptional amount of talent.
Internationally, some countries still tend to associate Italian theatre mainly with the experimental and performance-based work that defined an important period of our theatrical history. That was undoubtedly a remarkable moment, but today there is much more happening, and, for me, some of the most exciting work lies in this new generation of playwrights and original theatre.
Why are arts festivals such as the Fringe so important for international exchange?
This might sound like a cliché, but sometimes clichés are true. Festivals like the Fringe are important because they allow artists to share their work beyond their own national borders.
They’re just as important from the audience’s perspective. They give us the chance to discover artists and productions that might never make it to Italy, and to be inspired by different ways of making theatre.
What can the wider arts community do to get more people involved in their specific disciplines?
I’m not sure I have a definitive answer. As an artist, I try to create the kind of shows that I would personally like to see. I take the same approach as a programmer: I’m the artistic director of a 360-seat theatre, Teatro del Fiume, and I’m also the theatre programming consultant for prose at Teatro Verdi, a 700-seat venue. In both cases, I try to programme work that I would genuinely want to experience as an audience member. Marketing, audience development, and public engagement are essential, but I leave those areas to the professionals who specialise in them. My responsibility, both as an artist and as a programmer, is to focus on what happens on stage and to make it as meaningful and high-quality as I possibly can.
Have you got your eye on any other shows that are part of the programme?
A Dark Line Upstairs by Matilde Vigna, an Italian friend of mine playing the show at Zoo Playground 3.
What’s next for you and how are you feeling about the future in general?
I have a new show premiering in Italy in September, and three other productions touring during the next season. They are important projects, with well-known actors in Italy and long touring schedules, so I’m very excited about them.
My first film will also be released soon. It’s a very small, independent project, but one that I care about deeply. I’m also writing my second novel.
What I would really like to do in the future is to bring my directing work abroad. So far, it has mainly been my plays that have travelled internationally, with productions in different countries, but I would love to see the shows themselves tour internationally. I hope this Fringe can be a first opportunity to start making that happen.
How can Edinburgh audiences keep up with you beyond the festival?
Absolutely. I’ll be at the Fringe throughout the run, watching the show and having the chance to meet and chat with the audience almost every night.
Anything else?
I hope you enjoy the show!
Ten Ways to Die Happy, Underbelly Bristo Square, 5-31 Aug (not 18), 13.55