L’imperatrice *****

Beatrice Schiaffino sweeps to the stage, immediately owning the space, holding the audience captivated and spellbound with her performance masterclass as L’imperatrice (the empress).

The production is an interesting idea: a current day journalist appears by video link to interview Virginia Oldoini. Both roles are played by Schiaffino, whose contrasting appearances convey the gulf between the two eras. The interviewer very much inhabits the Vox pop modern world, with vivid purple hair and the assertiveness of the contemporary woman. Oldoini, by contrast, is a more complex proposition: composed, confident, but nonetheless a product of her time.

Oldoini adopts a position on a stool, with a vertical screen behind her. This staging allows the audience to appreciate the sheer extravagance of her dress: black, striking and adorned with floral embellishments.

Born into nineteenth-century Italian society, Oldoini was married off at just 16 to a count who was a close adviser to the King. She had one son but refused to have more, and the fault lines in her marriage soon began to show. In many respects, she was what we would today call a feminist: a woman determined to exercise her own agency, challenge patriarchal expectations and assert her worth in a world intent on defining her by her relationships with men.

The political landscape of mid-nineteenth-century Europe was shifting dramatically. What is now Italy remained a patchwork of states, with foreign powers, notably Austria and France, and the Pope exerting considerable influence. Italian independence and unification were the great prize, and Oldoini played her part in the struggle, not least by influencing her lover, Napoleon III, to support the Italian cause. Her cousin, Cavour, one of the principal architects of unification, also drew her into clandestine political activity. It was this role that earned her, in certain circles, the provocative epithet “the golden vulva of Italian Unification”.

Oldoini was also the lover of the King and accumulated considerable wealth through her proximity to powerful men and influential financiers, including members of the Rothschild family. Today, it would be referred to as insider trading. She was equally ahead of her time in her understanding of photography, sitting for some 700 photographs in elaborate, theatrical costumes. She recognised photography’s ability to preserve a moment for posterity and became a celebrated subject of tableaux vivants.

The production brings these tableaux to life through projected images of Schiaffino herself, her posed figure forming a striking backdrop to the unfolding narrative. These visual interludes are among the show’s most memorable aesthetic moments, reinforcing the sense of Oldoini as both a woman of her time and the architect of her own image.

Her story is little known in Italy, let alone abroad, partly because after her death, The House of Savoy ordered the destruction of her memoirs, although some survived, coming to light later. Andrea Balzola’s writing brings her to life, the design of the show shining a light on her but with a contemporary perspective, and juxtaposing the empress against a modern version of herself. It’s a smart concept, inviting us to consider how much has changed, and how much has not.

While the writing, production design and staging are impressive, the show is all about Schiaffino’s imperious performance.

Technically, her timing is immaculate, Oldoini performing live against a recording of herself, interrupting and challenging one another in both directions. As the interviewer, she is aware that she has been granted access to a diva, the challenge being to push, even to provoke, but not cause Oldoini to leave. The interviewer’s tightrope quandary is skilfully delivered.

As Oldoini, however, we are treated to myriad emotions. We see the swagger, the arrogance, the frustration, the irritation, the humour, the ennui, the regret, the hurt, and much more, as she pouts, dabs, glides, reflects and struts the stage.

Schiaffino is a consummately skilled actor, conveying Oldoini’s story as fragments of memory begin to piece together. It is alluring and enchanting. It is especially those moments of stillness and vulnerability that linger.

At the denouement, Oldoini appears hauntingly on the screen, an apparition reaching us from beyond the grave. The capriciousness is now left behind, the layers stripped back as a woman bares her soul, fragile yet demanding our attention. It is a beautiful, emotive, and startling climax.

Following on from last year's extraordinary performance as La Papessa at Milan Fringe, suffice to say that wherever Schiaffino performs, you should just get yourself a ticket, and drink in a performer at the top of their profession.