I was initially tempted to open this review by calling Quattrox4’s Gretel ‘timely’. I then caught myself. When exactly has a story of lost homes, forced migration, and the desperate search for shelter been anything less than timely since the dawn of humanity? So, let us call this gentle, captivating tale of one woman’s defiantly joyful pursuit of safety in the face of devastation timeless instead.
We first meet Gretel as she tends to her tiny house. It is a carefully curated existence. She surrounds herself with miniaturised knick-knacks and a pair of idiosyncratic pets: Fritz and Oscar. The exact species of the little red furball and feather-tailed miniature wooden horse is left to the imagination. Gretel tends them with absolute care. She moves through a precise daily routine only she understands. Everything must sit exactly where it should be before she feeds her companions (rather noisily). But this idyllic sanctuary is fragile.
Then disaster strikes. Perhaps an earthquake hits. Maybe a storm breaks. The catastrophe could easily be man-made. The exact nature of the tragedy matters little. All Gretel knows is that her home is obliterated. She must gather her pets and find somewhere else to belong.
Surviving the Ruins: Storti’s Captivating Physical Theatre
Clara Storti—who also authors and directs the piece—plays Gretel with immense dexterity and charm. Through a sharp blend of clowning, circus skill, object manipulation, and dance, she takes the audience on a journey carrying absolutely no guarantee of a happy ending. Her actions bristle with emotion. Storti creates her character entirely through vivid body language and intensely precise action. The visual symbolism of balancing the salvaged remains of her home on her head is instantly readable. So too are the complex, almost balletic physical motions she goes through just to take a single step forward while attempting to leave a small marker of her passing in the dirt.
Although she operates as a real-life cartoon character, Storti crucially remains human, resisting any pressure to be relentlessly funny. Yes, Gretel is a cartoonish creation with seemingly rubber limbs, but the production never makes light of her trials. Humour certainly exists as she tackles physical puzzles, but the comedy never becomes ridiculous. It never minimises her trauma. Instead, with almost no dialogue, she creates an absurd yet fully fleshed-out character that everyone can invest in, from 5 up.
So, let us call this gentle, captivating tale of one woman’s defiantly joyful pursuit of safety in the face of devastation timeless instead.
Maddalena Oppici and Storti’s set design is minimal but highly effective. The extreme precision of Gretel’s initial home creates a sharp, genuine sense of loss when it is swept away. After the catastrophe, the stage remains largely bare. Storti must generate the sensation of a precarious, complex journey entirely through her physical motion, at least until a hanging rope introduces a sudden vertical dimension for the narrative to explore.
Seeing shelter in the sky, Gretel must find a way to climb that rope alongside her pets. To do this, she abandons the few possessions she has so carefully stewarded until that moment. We admire her indefatigability while feeling her loss, and her joy at the possibility of settling down again. Yet, safety proves an illusion. Both Gretel and the young audience must confront the necessity of carrying on – and finding hope – through not just one, but a series of distinct catastrophes. Maybe the show picks up a little too much pace in its final 5 minutes or so, but its message comes through loud and clear.
Ultimately, Gretel is a children’s production that possesses the courage to ask profound questions. It refuses to finish with a neat, guaranteed happy ending. Instead, it champions the difficult virtues of survival, extolling the act of moving forward – and embracing joy – when everything else falls apart. It demands we value journey over destination, while delivering a wonderful reflection on the meaning of home.
All Images: Gretel by Quattrox4 Company © Domenico Conte
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