THE MIRACLES OF SANTO FICO

An amiable debut by playwright Smith about an Italian village that’s seen better days—and may again.

To describe Santo Fico as “off the beaten track” is only the truth: The road to it is so narrow that anyone driving onto it has to keep going, since it’s not wide enough to turn around—a fact that has brought many tourists over the years and has kept the local institutions (the one hotel, one church, etc.) alive. But it’s a flyblown place all the same. Leo Pizzola grew up there and was glad to leave for Chicago, where he lived for 18 years until his father died, when he had to return to claim his estate. Now Leo wants to leave again, but he can’t find anyone to buy the family farm. So he hangs out with his old friend Topo Pasolini, goofing off in the cafes and telling tall tales to the British or Americans who wander into town. He invariably steers the tourists to the hotel run by his old love Marta Fortito, though she refuses to speak to Leo and only lets him set foot in her bar when he brings customers. What old grudge is she nursing? There are tales still making the rounds of Leo having his nose broken by Marta the night before her wedding to Franco Fortito (who died years later in a motorcycle accident). But the details are hazy now. Even old Father Elio, who knows everyone’s darkest secrets, isn’t clear about just what went on. Now that Leo is back and Marta is a free woman, can there be reconciliation? Unlikely. Leo makes his meager living by telling strangers the story of the miraculous fig tree that bore fruit in Santo Fico all year long. He knows full well that people love stories that are charming rather than true. But maybe, sometimes, they can be both.

A delightful fable, told with wit and grace.