Savor the earthy pleasures of "Napoli!" Just don't get too seduced by the laughter and lust of Neapolitan living, because the brutal nature of politics and greed is always lurking just beneath the surface in this poignant comedy.

The bittersweet quality of life is at the heart of Linda Alper and Beatrice Basso's lean translation of Eduardo de Filippo's 1945 gem. The charms of Mark Rucker's buoyant revival may run thin by the second act, but it's still hard to resist a compelling performance by American Conservatory Theater favorite Marco Barricelli as the redoubtable Gennaro.

The boisterous World War II-era comedy revolves around a tram conductor (Gennaro), who loses his livelihood when the Allies bomb the city and gasoline becomes scarce. His wife, Amalia (Seana McKenna), quickly becomes the breadwinner of the family by delving into the booming black market business. She trades forbidden items such as coffee and pasta for big money, and soon the clan is rolling in the dough. But this arrangement leaves Gennaro, the part originally performed by the playwright, with a sour taste in his mouth.

If he has a soft heart, she has a will of iron. Amalia will stop at nothing to put food on the table. She takes to driving up prices by hoarding groceries and letting her customers hang themselves on credit they cannot afford. Gennaro believes it is better to starve than to cheat your neighbors.


By the second act, the war has upended much that was once held sacred. Gennaro has been imprisoned by the Germans and is haunted by that trauma, but no one wants to hear his tales from the front lines. For the folks back home, business has been booming. Amalia is now a wealthy woman, decked out in furs and jewels. She is rich enough to show mercy to the less fortunate but savvy enough to ignore this fact about her.

The staging drags a bit here and there, there's not enough chemistry between McKenna and Dion Mucciacito as Amalia's would-be suitor Errico, and some of the broad comedy between bit characters lacks punch. Only Gabriel Marin as the hapless Miezo, Lisa Kitchens as the giggly Assunta and Sharon Lockwood as the long-suffering Adelaide capture the wistfulness that should suffuse this tragicomedy.

Still the playwright's ("Saturday, Sunday, Monday") sharp-eyed musings on the perils of balancing survival and morality retain their sting. His compassion for the plight of the poor gives the play its bite.

Barricelli, long a stalwart at ACT, lends Gennaro a weight and gravity that transforms the everyman into a heroic figure. He sees the world has corrupted his family, but he will not bend his sense of honor.

McKenna, a star of Canada's famed Stratford Festival, radiates steel as the wily Amalia, though her feelings for her husband and her almost lover never seem palpable enough.

Much allure comes from Erik Flatmo's set design, a sun-drenched tableau of gorgeous detail from the clothes line above the living room to the coffee beans spilling out of the mattress.

The beauties of the set echo the tenderness with which Barricelli's moving Gennaro regards his home, however meager. Sitting at the head of the family table, he needs no millions to feel like a king.


By Eduardo de Filippo, translated by Linda Alper and Beatrice Basso, presented by American Conservatory Theater
Through: March 9
Where: 415 Geary St., San Francisco
Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes, 1 intermission
Tickets: $20-$120. 415-749-2228.