Come Ogni Domenica ****

Italy is a country steeped in tradition and ritual. This manifests in countless ways, big and small: church ceremonies, university graduations and the acceptable times of day to drink cappuccino. And then there’s football.

To the non-aficionado, football’s entrenched place in Italian culture requires some explanation. The national side is among the most successful ever, and when they play an important match, everything grinds to a halt. The powerhouse domestic clubs have won everything and enjoy global stature. The top division, Serie A, is scrutinised endlessly: matches are analysed for days beforehand, with key moments debated for days after. Back in the early 1980s, games were covered through excitable radio broadcasts, with audiences across the nation hanging on every word. Each club has deep ties to its community. The importance, therefore, of reaching Serie A cannot be overstated, bestowing exalted status and kudos not just on the club but on the city as well.

Come Ogni Domenica (best translated as Just Like Every Sunday) uses the ritual of Sunday football as its backdrop, but there is something more personal at play. It’s 1983 and Catania football club are challenging for promotion to Serie A. When the critical final match comes around, an estimated 40,000 fans – around a sixth of the city’s population – make the 1,000-mile round trip to Rome.

Adriano (Samuele Gambino) is listening to a radio football transmission as the production opens, his body conveying silent contemplation. Ciccio, Adriano’s brother, had died in an accident a year earlier while following the team. The brothers had been quite different: Adriano is interested in music and not a football fan, but he follows this potentially historic season on Ciccio’s behalf.

Gambino is an accomplished storyteller, engagingly and charmingly bringing Ciccio’s story to the Catania Fringe. Partly through the use of dialect, he paints a picture of the Catania community and the position of an everyday family within it. He fuses physical theatre, character work and a touch of clowning, but it is the depiction of Adriano’s journey that is most striking. He finds comfort through football, paying tribute to his brother and posthumously reconciling their differences. In doing so, he matures as a human being.

Gambino sensitively explores themes of belonging, aspiration, community and loss. His performance is occasionally rather heightened, but that aside, the self-written production represents an impressive debut and promises much for the future.

Ciccio’s mother continues to set his dinner plate, while Adriano relays the football action to him – rituals of a more personal kind, helping the family to live with grief.