Marcello Magni was a revelation – British theatre is poorer without him

I first encountered the extraordinary Marcello Magni as he performed in More Bigger Snacks Now at the Almeida Theatre more than 30 years ago. In this anarchic early Complicité comedy, he was sublimely outrageous, as were his co-stars Simon McBurney, Jos Houben and Tim Barlow. Marcello’s comedic physicality was astonishing – wild yet perfectly in control.

My hazy memory tells me there was one crazy moment (among many) when the performers managed to get a packet of Marlboro cigarettes from an audience member. The cast became fixated with the name, until Marcello acted out the famous Marlboro commercial, which featured the iconic Marlboro cowboy. He became the horse and, simultaneously, the cowboy trying to tame it. For a young performer fresh out of drama school, seeing this combination of skill and instinct was revelatory.

The Almeida’s Complicité season in 1989 was a turning point for me, and it would be fair to say that when Hayley Carmichael, John Wright and myself set up Told by an Idiot in 1993, Complicité was our biggest theatrical influence, and Marcello was at the heart of it.

I first worked directly with Marcello on a Complicité workshop in September 1992. He was leading a week-long exploration of an African story called The Bone, but at the heart of it was Marcello’s love for commedia dell’arte. It felt like it was literally in his DNA. What Marcello didn’t know about the Italian Comedy wasn’t worth knowing, and he would go on to create a one-man show that was a sublime tribute to the character of Arlecchino. It was as if the workshop was led by a comic, theatrical whirlwind: so many ideas, such infectious enthusiasm.

Attempting to create a living, breathing, contemporary commedia has been a constant quest for the Idiots, featuring throughout our work in shows such as Don’t Laugh, It’s My Life and The Comedy of Errors with the RSC. Over the years, we have often found ourselves referring to Marcello and his playful spontaneous mastery of this most challenging of forms.

Marcello was always around Told by an Idiot. He came to see our early shows with his dear wife, Kathryn Hunter, and was supportive and encouraging afterwards – always with a twinkle in his eye, ready with a suggestion of how you could make a moment funnier. He was invariably right.

Being able to collaborate with Marcello has been one of the great pleasures of my professional life. I will never forget being directed by him when I played Geppetto in Pinocchio at the Lyric Hammersmith in 2001 or when he came in to help with the movement on our production of Napoleon Disrobed – directed by Kathryn Hunter. His love for performance and his passion for play shone. As the Idiots prepare for our 30th anniversary, I realise British theatre will be a lot poorer without Marcello. Ciao Maestro.