We pulled it off. Without outside experts or professionals, the young people and friends from our workshop performed "The Discovery of America" by Roman poet Cesare Pascarella in a real theater, in real costumes, before a paying audience. Our young people have mild to moderate intellectual disabilities. Few of them speak with sufficient clarity, and memorizing even a short text is impossible for them. People ask us: how did you do it? We'll try to explain.
Choosing the text: It had to be entertaining without being childish or fairy-tale-like in content (our friends are adults, after all). The plot needed to be lively but not overly complicated. The Roman dialect verses made the story feel familiar and accessible.
The script: We realized we could only succeed after cutting the text to less than half its length, and then cutting the written portions by half again. This let us divide it into six or seven brief scenes or very short acts. First came a presentation of Pascarella's Rome (all the young people onstage as characters from "old Rome"), then Columbus and the king, Columbus and the ministers, Columbus and the queen, Columbus and the sailors, Columbus and the mutiny, building to the famous "Land, land!"
Music and songs: Since each scene had only a brief narration and few lines of dialogue, we added a song to every scene. We set new lyrics to melodies the young people already knew. We recorded the songs beforehand and paired them with ballet, pantomime, and short dramatic action.
The cast: From the start, we decided young people and workshop friends would perform together. The main roles—Columbus, the king, the queen, many sailors and ministers—went to the young people, who did remarkably well, though with some accommodation. Take Gianni, who played Columbus: he was a natural actor with expressive gestures and a fine dancer, but struggled with pronunciation and memory. His lines were spoken by someone else, off-stage at a microphone, while Gianni acted out the part with vivid mime and entertaining improvisation—like playback theater.
You don't need much money (we spent just over 100 euros), but you do need some directorial tricks, imagination, inventiveness, and the ability to make do. Some of the women in the workshop worked miracles with the costumes. The rule was simple: disguise ourselves as much as possible so no one recognizes us.
Special lighting and sound effects: Minimal but essential (thunder and lightning for the ocean scenes).
We saved the most important element for last: the role of the "improviser/entertainer." During the intermissions (which weren't always short), this person sang the songs with the young audience members, commented on the show, and listened to their responses.
We turned to theater because nearly all the young people wanted to act, to wear costumes, to dance. Some were initially indifferent or confused, but gradually got pulled in. Had anyone seemed uncomfortable, they would have helped with costumes or script work instead.
We believed in the power of engagement—the ability to build community through making a show together. But we discovered other things too.
It's crucial to give each person the right role: either working with their natural strengths and traits, or as a stretch—a chance to change, to see themselves as more capable, more important, different. We watched some young people actually shift how they behaved in real life, adjusting to their new roles in ways that made them proud.
The petty and serious rivalries, the frequent conflicts—all of it dissolved in the real work of doing, of preparing, of stepping outside the workshop to face the larger world.
Almost without noticing, the friends shed their protective attitudes and the baby talk that wasn't fitting for young adults. Something more genuine emerged (and more respectful toward them)—rougher at times, driven by the need to get things right, to contribute as much as possible together.
The message landed. The young people did their best, without whining or childishness, with real patience and determination.
During the performance, we learned that once you've done all you can in rehearsal, you can't expect everything to run perfectly. The improvisation, the missteps, the outbursts from our young people—once the curtain was up—didn't wreck the show. In fact, when the script and atmosphere were right, they created something special, almost like commedia dell'arte.
See for yourself. That's the word from the friends at the Beehive.
- Tea Cabras, 2002