Ascanio Celestini, one of the most beloved voices of narrative theatre in Italy, brings to the stage a performance based on his latest book. Poveri cristi tells the stories of those who live on the margins of society—people whom no one notices—encountered and interviewed in the outskirts of cities, giving voice to those who have no language with which to tell their own stories. With a compassionate gaze, never rhetorical, Celestini sifts through the uprooted lives of women and men who wander like ants in an anthill, searching for their own small share of happiness.

After a process of listening and dialogue between music and storytelling, Gianluca Casadei has set Ascanio Celestini’s words to music.

In a Roman suburb that resembles so many suburbs around the world, the lives of these poveri cristi intertwine.

There is Giobbe, an illiterate warehouse worker who has developed a technique for organizing goods without being able to read a single word.
There is the Old Woman, who teaches the Prostitute that knowledge and culture do not require money: library books are free, and museums open their doors—even to those who cannot pay—one day a month.
There is Joseph, who left his country and, before arriving in Italy, was a gravedigger, an emigrant, a slave, a castaway, a prisoner, a porter, and a homeless man.

And then there is the racist, the Nosy Woman, the eight-year-old Gypsy who smokes, Domenica, the head of the cooperative, and even Saint Francis…

But when we go on stage, not all of them are there.

At each performance we choose a couple of stories, a handful of characters. Like in a concert, where the musician decides which different pieces to play and creates a setlist.

All these characters have something in common. They are the ugly ones who end up in the newspapers when something serious or scandalous happens. I try to tell their stories as if they were saints—when a miracle occurs.