Carlo Lucarelli’s Almost Blue
directed by Lu Kemp at the Riverside Studios, Hammersmith, London W6

Highly visual, sound sensitive Italian thriller meets innovative avant-garde ‘sound-led’ theatre – a marriage made in heaven? Not quite.

There is much to admire in this spirited collaboration between radio producer Lu Kemp (a panellist, incidentally, at this year’s Harrogate Crime Writing Festival), her sound-designer Gareth Fry and choreographer Dominic Leclerc. The essential core of Carlo Lucarelli’s novel (synaesthetic blind man – he translates sounds into colours – collaborates with young police Inspector to track down disturbed serial killer) has been preserved, along with many of its key incidents. I have no quarrel, for instance, with the decision to move the book’s locale from Bologna to an unspecified metropolis, probably London. Indeed the production’s strongest suit, conveyed through sound, lighting and an ingenious system of moving transparent panels, is that the claustrophobia, alienation and anonymity of modern city life is vividly conveyed. Of the musical spectrum offered by Lucarelli, a key element of the novel, it is understandable (if a little unimaginative ) that the sound team should err towards such as Nine Inch Nails rather than Chet Baker and Coleman Hawkins (though the brief use of Blue on Green by Miles Davis was a nice touch). Indeed the club scene where the killer realises his nemesis has him spotted, gained in credibility when set against the aural assault that constitutes much current popular dance music.

Similarly the sheer physicality of the novel often finds its dramatic equivalent in Leclerc’s choreography and its performers (three of the six-strong cast were trained in contemporary dance). Less successful was the occasional emphasis on a doppelganger theme only hinted at by Lucarelli, also conveyed by dance, and promoting, in this spectator at least, a degree of narrative confusion. Entirely successful, in the first of two key dramatic roles, was Abigail Davies as Grace, the police woman. Required to interact not only with on-stage actors but also with actors unseen and some as pre-recorded voices, Davies was alternately strong, intelligent and vulnerable. Declan Harvey as Simon, the blind synaesthete, was equally touching and their developing relationship, true to the novel, gave the piece much-needed heart.

But finally, what emerges fails to add to or enhance the novel. I think the problem is that Lucarelli’s third voice, that of the serial killer, one which gave the novel much of its distinction, is largely missing. In much crime fiction, serial killers (‘an urban myth, if ever there was one’ said a UK publisher recently) tend to be super-intelligent beings bent on some baroque ritual, often linked with either religion or mythology. Lucarelli’s novel on the other hand, stripped away much of the genre’s explicit violence and, through some brilliantly skin-crawling writing, with more than a hint of David Cronenberg’s ‘body horror’, restored some twisted humanity to his killer. Very little of this remains. Indeed the production goes the other way. In scenes which have no equivalent in the book, the serial killer as myth idea is articulated (by a minor character) and swiftly dismissed; elsewhere, explicit violence (Thomas Harris rather than Lucarelli) is described and simultaneously illustrated in silhouette.

The absence of this third voice has one other effect. It largely destroys the carefully built tension of Lucarelli’s novel. Perhaps if writer Chris Dunkley (credited in the programme for ‘text’ rather than ‘script’) had had a larger role, such flaws might have been avoided. In my view then, an honourable failure. Fans of the book will, I am sure, wish to see it for themselves. It runs at the Riverside up to and including Dec 11th. As this year’s winner of the Oxford Samuel Beckett Theatre Trust Award, it may well appear near you. Worth checking out should also be Kemp’s Radio 4 version (this time with writer Judith Adams), scheduled for 3 February 2006.

Review by Bob Cornwell

Carlo Lucarelli was born in 1960 in Modena, Italy. One of the most exciting young writers in Europe, he has written eleven novels, all of them noirs. Lucarelli hosts a popular television series in Italy that examines unsettling and unsolved crimes and the urban centres in which they occur. He also teaches writing in Turin, sings in a post-punk band, and edits an on-line magazine, Incubatoio 16.

Almost Blue -Oonagh Stransky (Translator) - Vintage
An exquisitely plotted and unique psychological thriller. The author narrates through the eyes of the protagonists, placing the reader right in the action. You will only be needing the very edge of your seat on which to read this fast-paced thriller. A serial killer is terrorising the students of Bologna. Rookie female detective Grazia Negro is determined to solve the case. Only one witness can positively identify the killer... and he's blind. Simone spends his days in solitude, listening to Elvis Costello's Almost Blue and scanning the radio waves of the city to eavesdrop on other people's lives. He likes to imagine what people are like - based on the tone and 'colour' of their voice - and his acute hearing sets alarm bells ringing upon hearing the voice of the killer. The perspective alternates between the vulnerable and reclusive Simone and the dark and psychotic killer, obsessed with continually 'reincarnating' himself as his latest victim in a frantic bid to escape the torture of his inner demons. Lucarelli paints his villain in a brilliant and yet terrifying light and you will have to stop yourself from screaming out to Grazia and Simone to warn them of the looming danger.

Day After Day - Oonagh Stransky (Translator) - Vintage
Ispettore Grazia Negro returns to track down another faceless killer in this intelligently woven plot of sex, violence and suspense from the author of Almost Blue
A professional killer is at large in the cities of Italy. Code named "The Pit Bull" the killer is a master of disguise and an expert with weapons. He modifies his guns and his bullets are untraceable. His skill with prosthetics, wigs, makeup and padding means that no two victims witness the same before their death and, as with the search for the ever-reincarnating "Iguana" in Almost Blue, once again this is a hunt for a man with no face. Only the picture of a pit bull terrier, from which the killer takes his name, left behind at each murder can link the crimes. Stuck in a rut, the Pit Bull's life continues, day after day. And, day after day, Ispettore Negro works on her seemingly impossible case. When an innocent young man, surfing the Internet, unwittingly places himself in serious danger from the Pit Bull, Negro uses the man's knowledge of cyberspace to help her close in on her terrifying target.

Review