Immediately struck by the contrast between life and death, Romeo Castellucio opens ‘Inferno’ with a pack of barking German Shepherds wrapped in chains as they charge after him, attacking violently. Deathly silence follows as a dog skin is placed on the back of an actor, a literal interpretation of the bestial appetites in reference. The performance continues to shock us with its physical embodiments of Dante’s hellish poem and doesn’t hold back on its perplexing nature.

The show is visually dynamic throughout. We see a clear cube, lit from within and filled with toddlers used to enforce a sense of claustrophobia upon us as we hear them playing and chatting inside. Vibrance building internally before it is slowly concealed with darkness.

We watch as life is slowly engulfed onstage.

The sound design works tirelessly in support of our anticipation, often overwhelming as it builds before cutting to silence and leaving us deep in thought.

Much of the show is held up by the rituals of the ensemble, allowing the play to be illustrated rather than spoken as very few lines of text are used. Immune to the horror by the midst of the performance, we watch as the entire ensemble mime cutting each other’s throats, one by one falling to the floor until it is covered in bodies.

Catellucio invites us all to question the vastness of existence in a location equally as daunting, the Papal Palace. Somewhere no doubt impressive to match such a striking performance, impossible to walk away from without being completely baffled.