"The Twenty-Second Woman" is a delicate yet profound monologue.
It is not merely the story of many women; above all, it is a story of female strength—of the extraordinary capacity to rise and rise again, to live, and to love.
It speaks of the female partisans who helped draft the Constitution—the "Twenty-One" of the Constituent Assembly—but also, and especially, of the women who found the courage to say "no" to the Mafia, to addictions of all kinds, and to brutal violence.
"The Twenty-Second Woman" is an account—almost a journey—chronicling the many mothers and daughters Angela Iantosca has interviewed, met, and admired throughout her career as a journalist.
I directed this show, and whenever I think of a single word to describe it, the same one always comes to mind: sincere.
But also forthright, honest, and free of rhetoric.
It is a monologue by a woman, for other women, that pulls no punches—one that compels you to experience it fully from start to finish, without ever looking away.
Much like the lives of the women themselves.