Football Without Life is Nothing: A Review of The Hand of God

Paolo Sorrentino’s Oscar nominated film, È stata la mano di Dio (The Hand of God), could not quite be described as a film about Calcio but, perhaps, it is a film that understands the experience of loving Calcio more than any other.

The story itself is beguilingly simple, it is a coming of age story, heavily based on Sorrentino’s own childhood in Naples in the 1980’s, which follows the family and small number of friends of Fabietto Schisa, played by Filippo Scotti. Fabietto is socially awkward and most at home surrounded by his immediate and extended family. The first half of the film, in a display of virtuosic ensemble acting, demonstrates the fauvist experience of the Neapolitan family life with outrageous humour, glorious backdrops and, of course, many Calcio focussed conversations. 

Sorrentino favourite, Toni Servillo is a wonderful presence as Fabietto’s father, juggling a warmth for his son and a more complex relationship with his wife, the equally charismatic Teresa Saponangelo. Aunts, cousins and grandparents all leave nothing off the table in terms of how they mock and prod each other in the first hour of the film. Carmen Pommella steals many a scene with her perfectly observed, potty-mouthed, mozzarella scoffing, matriarchal nonna, Annarella.

There is a delicate line to tread in terms of representing these Italian archetypes, particularly when it comes to areas in the South of Italy. Sorrentino’s true Neapolitan nature enables the Schisa family to shine with charisma and authenticity. Those familiar with the city will also appreciate the inclusion and reference to figures such as San Gennaro and Monaciello and Sorrentino should be commended for the creative and bold way in which he weaves these figures into the narrative – more akin to an Italo Calvino sourced Italian folk tale, than a screenwriter.

This opening section all takes place against a backdrop of Diego Maradona’s proposed transfer to SSC Napoli and the first few seasons playing at the Stadio San Paolo. For much of this opening part of the film, there is disbelief that El Diego will actually transfer to Napoli – there is a reference to Umberto Agnelli taking him for coffee in Turin and much self-deprecating humour. Naples is portrayed as a città with football in its veins, the film runs a motif of Fabietto involving himself in roughly twenty a-side games in front of a priest at his school and the game is played with all the commitment and passion you’d expect from the city. One of the most charming scenes in the film is the moment when it is confirmed that Maradona will transfer to the club. It tells the nuanced story of the father/son relationship as well as how sometimes the Big Moments in football can cut through whatever else is occupying a person. 

Beyond these calcio connections, film buffs will see parallels with some of Italy’s legendary filmmakers. There is the presence of Fellini and some inter-textuality with images and stylistic flights of fancy in common with Otto e Mezzo and La Dolce Vita. Mixed in with this, are echoes of Etore Scalo’s 1987 Oscar nominated, La Famiglia and Dino Risi’s ability to create an unforgettably idiosyncratic cast of characters. The razor sharp humour and complex relationships between men and women also draw to mind Vittorio De Sica’s 1960’s work such as ieri, oggi, domani or Matrimonio all’italiana. These links, whilst fun to spot, serve to highlight how, whilst I enjoyed spending time with la famiglia Schisa in The Hand of God, Sorrentino’s work struggles to consistently match the level of those masterpieces.   

The second half of the film chooses to change the tone and musical key in a bold and abrupt shift of story. In my view, this is where Sorrentino loses control of the film somewhat, but there are still some thought-provoking and affecting moments as we see Fabietto be forced to confront the world around him alone. Although Maradona in some ways saves his life and has an almost saint-like effect on the story, the experience of football for the young protagonist completely changes as his life begins to unravel. Whereas in the past Calcio was a joyful commonality amongst his family and his new season ticket to the Stadio San Paolo his pathway to making friends, in the second half of the film he is a by-stander during the chaotic kick-abouts and his football-going buddy, Armando (the superb Biagio Manna) is imprisoned for ten years.

This change in tone, although technically not entirely perfect from a storytelling and filmmaking perspective, struck a chord with me as a Calcio obsessive. One can mark out the significant moments in one’s life through the unravelling narratives of Calcio but the experience of these moments are entirely coloured by life itself. Fabietto’s depression and anxiety in the second half of the film render Napoli’s first Scudetto almost meaningless. This throws into poignant relief, the oft quoted (although not referred to in the film) slogan placed outside a cemetery in Naples as part of these title winning celebrations, ‘E non sanno che se so perso‘ (you don’t know what you missed).

The Hand of God has been created by a filmmaker who has Calcio in his bones. Sorrentino seems to understand the eternal tension within tifosi that, much as we’d probably like it to, Calcio can never entirely heal the struggles of day-to-day life and experience. I came away from the film feeling like football without life is nothing and with a profound hope that Fabietto’s own experience of the world will heal enough to let his formerly beloved SSC Napoli back into his heart.