Petruzzelli Theater

Another theater, you might say? But what a presence with its brick-red and ivory-white façade that immediately catches the eye! This particular shade of red even received an official name during its restoration: Rosso Petruzzelli. The restorers had to analyze layer by layer the original paints to recreate this exact hue. A unique color for a unique theater. At the center of the façade, notice the large Corinthian columns, directly inspired by ancient Greek temples. They support a richly sculpted frieze and a triangular pediment, as if the building wants to immediately proclaim: here, culture is sacred. Between the windows, you’ll discover sinuous floral motifs, allegorical figures, and delicate bas-reliefs, all in the purest spirit of Art Nouveau, or Stile Liberty as it’s called in Italy. At the top, the semi-circular dome, the true crown of the building, is dominated by Apollo and the muses Erato and Polymnia, flanked on either side by two griffins. But who built all this? The story begins at the end of the 19th century. Two brothers, Onofrio and Antonio Petruzzelli, merchants from Trieste, decided to give Bari the grand theater it deserved. They entrusted the project to their brother-in-law, engineer Angelo Messeni. Construction began in 1898, and the curtain rose for the first time on February 14, 1903, with Meyerbeer's Les Huguenots. For its time, the building was a technical marvel: central heating, electricity… and a capacity to seat more than 3,000 people. However, it wasn’t until 2009 that the theater regained its splendor. That’s because on the night of October 27, 1991, shortly after the curtain fell on Norma by Bellini, an opera that ironically ends in flames, a criminal fire almost entirely destroyed the building. Behind this fire lies a sordid story: the theater’s general director, heavily in debt to local loan sharks, is said to have ordered the fire, promising the city’s mafia clans the lucrative reconstruction contracts. A premeditated crime that sacrificed a cultural jewel on the altar of money and deals. The Italian justice system took on the case, with disappointing results. Despite five trials, only the physical executor, a man named Giuseppe Mesto, was definitively convicted. The mastermind was never officially identified. The irony of the story? The mafia who hoped to seize the reconstruction contracts ultimately received nothing: judicial procedures blocked the construction site for years, and it was the Italian state, with European funds, that finally rebuilt the theater. Eighteen years of silence, 50 million euros, and a collective determination to see it reborn. Welcome to the Petruzzelli!