Freevola ****

Lucia Raffaella Mariani enters the stage tentatively, almost nervously, wearing a robe over a swimsuit. She begins by asking what at first seems a simple question – whether she can make the audience fall in love with her before the production ends. The reason for the red roses we were given soon becomes clear: we are to adorn the stage with them by the show’s conclusion if she has succeeded.

The premise posed by Mariani is more complex than it first appears. The suggestion that a stranger can fall in love with another within 60 minutes is fanciful at best. But is that really the question being asked?

There is nowhere to hide on a theatre stage, and in Freevola, Mariani chooses to share her anguish and inner conflict under its unforgiving spotlight. Like many adolescent girls, she experiences her body changing and the first inklings of body awareness as she begins to wonder what others see when they look at her. This feeling, it seems, never fully dissipates.

Her journey into womanhood brings no relief: constant judgement and assessment from men; competition with other women that follows few discernible rules; and the weight of familial and societal pressures. Suddenly, the idea that dressing for a party might require strategic planning seems obvious.

She describes herself, disconcertingly, as “averagely attractive” and, despite the assertion via song that she “was born this way”, she relentlessly scrutinises opportunities for improvement – diet, surgery and pharmaceuticals.

She alludes to Marilyn Monroe, the epitome of beauty and sex appeal – and yet, Monroe was a victim, reportedly constantly unhappy.

This introspection probes myriad modern issues. At its heart lies the need for approval – particularly male approval. Alongside it come addiction, insecurity, introspection and body consciousness. Her belief that she is nothing without male validation is especially uncomfortable.

Male harassment is never far away – in the workplace, on an ordinary street. This behaviour is normalised, and Mariani describes dressing specifically to avoid harassment.

Her performance is strong, slipping in and out of characters, engaging with the audience and exposing her fragility. One audience interaction in this #MeToo era felt awkward – perhaps intentionally – but even so, might benefit from rethinking. That aside, her playfulness, stillness, skill and humour shine through.

Mariani’s journey within this patriarchal world is mirrored by women across the planet and throughout history. This hour-long inner scream ultimately asks a different question from the one posed at the outset: can she learn to love herself?