Gallery

Poster (first season)

Poster (second season)

Trailer

First season

Promo for the second season

Pressbook

First season

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Second season

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Narrative & characters

La Compagnia del Cigno, Rai’s flagship project on the complexities of adolescence, unfolds as a choral coming-of-age narrative intertwining the lives of seven young musicians at Milan’s Conservatorio Verdi. The series deliberately mobilizes archetypal figures of the teen drama, ensuring accessibility for a mainstream audience. Many characters are introduced through recognizable stereotypes: Matteo, traumatized by unresolved grief and carrying the scars of the Amatrice earthquake; Barbara, crushed by the expectations of a bourgeois family and, in the second season, entrapped in an abusive relationship with a manipulative ex-boyfriend; Sofia, struggling against body shaming; Sara, who is visually impaired, yet reclaims her condition as a resource for autonomy and irony; Rosario, torn between his musical future and a mother recovering from addiction; Robbo, the youngest, who escapes into fantasy to cope with familial breakdown; and Domenico, son of a Sicilian laborer, embodying the emergence of talent in working-class contexts.

At the center of this mosaic stands Professor Luca Marioni (Alessio Boni), nicknamed “il bastardo” for his uncompromising and sometimes brutal methods. Formally inscribed in the role of educator, Marioni nevertheless deviates from institutional conventions, adopting unorthodox strategies that accentuate his ambivalence. His characterization aligns with a recurrent trope in Rai’s fiction – one may recall La classe degli asini or Un professore – in which the teacher is depicted as an eccentric and controversial figure, yet ultimately indispensable. Despite his abrasiveness, Marioni remains an authoritative presence whose guidance proves essential to the students’ growth. Such framing echoes the pedagogical mission historically associated with public broadcasting: a paternalistic model in which youth are portrayed as requiring the guidance of both an adult mentor and an institutional framework – in this case, the conservatory. Conflict with the maestro thus becomes a narrative engine, transforming discipline and authority into occasions for collective emancipation.What differentiates La Compagnia del Cigno from other international teen dramas is its less confrontational, more conciliatory register: difference is narrated not as rupture but as diversity to be harmonized. The innovation lies less in inventing new paradigms than in embedding marginalized figures – disabled students, unconventional families, non-normative bodies – within the familiar fabric of

Stereotypes & strategies of inclusion

Family melodrama 

The representation of motherhood and family configurations in La Compagnia del Cigno is notably complex. The domestic sphere appears almost invariably incomplete or marked by absence, giving rise to a constellation of “alternative” family units: single mothers, divorced parents, homosexual uncles who assume parental functions. Within this framework, maternal figures are articulated in multiple variants: the overbearing and hyper-present mother (Barbara), the fragile and dependent mother (Rosario), the resilient and emotionally supportive mother (Sofia), and the absent or “phantasmatic” mother (Matteo). In doing so, the series moves beyond the monolithic trope of the “traditional Italian mother,” offering instead a heterogeneous and contemporary panorama. Yet, despite these differences, these figures converge around a shared feature: they remain positive, reassuring anchors, affective pivots around which the children’s growth is staged.
A particularly significant example is Rosario’s trajectory and the non-canonical family model that emerges by the end of the first season. Initially entrusted in Milan to a foster couple while his mother Antonia undergoes rehabilitation, Rosario hesitates when she – now sober – asks him to return with her to Florence. Torn between the promise of an “original” family and the real life he has built in Milan (friends, orchestra, foster parents who love him without claiming possession), Rosario opts for compromise: he agrees to join her only after completing the year with the Compagnia. In this negotiation, the writing deliberately avoids the conventional “battle between adults”: the foster mother openly admits her jealousy, but in doing so acknowledges Antonia’s right to reclaim her son. The mutual recognition between the two women dismantles the rhetoric of the “true parent” versus the “temporary parent.”
The season finale resolves this tension through an inclusive solution: Antonia decides to remain in Milan. This decision allows Rosario to preserve his friendships and musical anchors, while also continuing his bond with the foster parents – who, in turn, support Antonia in finding employment. What emerges is not a “recomposed family” in the traditional sense but rather an affective micro-ecosystem: a de facto co-parenting arrangement in which the biological mother, the foster couple, and the adolescent himself share responsibility. In this respect, the series introduces an innovative departure from dominant tropes. Rather than staging a courtroom confrontation as the locus of victory or defeat, it foregrounds Rosario’s agency – his conditions, his ties, his music – while emphasizing the adults’ willingness to make space for one another.

Desire Without Barriers

Among the ensemble, Sara perhaps most vividly embodies the dialectic between pedagogical reassurance and narrative disruption that defines La Compagnia del Cigno. A partially sighted violinist, she is never reduced to her condition; rather, she becomes the testing ground for Rai’s attempt to represent diversity without turning it into stigma or into a mere “obstacle” to be overcome. In the first season, her visual impairment is initially perceived as a possible source of exclusion – even her presence in the orchestra is questioned – but the narrative soon reverses this perspective: Sara emerges as an active subject, sharp, ironic, and combative, capable of exposing the prejudices of others. Far from the stereotype of the “resilient disabled girl,” she is instead depicted as competitive, at times abrasive, and deeply contradictory.
The second season shifts the focus from disability to affective and sexual dynamics, exploring a dimension rarely addressed in mainstream fiction. Sara embraces her sexuality with candor and autonomy, engaging in casual relationships and refusing the reassuring trope of the fragile girl in need of protection. The episode Verità nascoste (S2E2) is especially emblematic: after sleeping with Pietro, a new viola student, Sara states with striking clarity that it was “just an adventure” and that she has no intention of pursuing a stable relationship. This sequence crystallizes her complexity: she sets the terms, not Pietro, overturning the conventional script in which the disabled subject is expected to be passive or grateful. Her partial blindness is narratively irrelevant in this moment; what matters is desire, and her ability to choose. Yet beneath this assertiveness lies a fragile underside – the fear of dependence, the anxiety of being consumed by a binding attachment.
Sara’s representation thus opens innovative spaces, though not without ambivalence. On the one hand, the series normalizes her presence in all spheres of life; on the other, it occasionally foregrounds her disability as a narrative marker, as if it had to be reiterated. Likewise, her relationship with Pietro risks re-inscribing a different cliché: that of the “different” girl, inherently averse to stability. Nevertheless, it is precisely through this ambivalence that Sara breaks two significant taboos: the taboo of youth disability – portrayed not as marginal but as central – and the taboo of the sexuality of the disabled body, presented without paternalism. In this sense, the series offers the Rai audience a character who resists being reduced to either symbol or victim, and instead insists on her right to be ironic, contradictory, and above all, desiring.

Conversations

Laura Boni interviews Leonardo Mazzarotto, Fotinì Peluso, Emanuele Misuraca, Hildegard De Stefano, Ario Nikolaus Sgroi, Chiara Pia Aurora, and Francesco Tozzi during the Giffoni Film Festival. The young protagonists of the series reflect on their characters, their experiences on set, and the dynamics that shaped their relationships both on screen and behind the scenes (Ginger Generation, July 24, 2019).

The young musicians of La Compagnia del Cigno respond to questions about their characters, their personal relationship with music, and what makes the new Rai Uno series distinctive (Rai, January 11, 2019).

Strategies

Communication rhetorics

The communication strategy surrounding the series consistently emphasized its inclusive and generational dimensions. Eleonora Andreatta described the project as an “exciting and risky challenge,” demonstrating Rai’s capacity to combine “quantity and quality” by bringing classical music into prime time. Promotional discourse revolved around three main axes. First, inclusion, with the fiction framed as a model of civil coexistence – an emphasis validated by its recognition at the Diversity Media Awards as “Best Italian Series.” Second, education, as music was positioned both as a form of discipline and as a vehicle of growth, capable of speaking to an audience imagined as young, educated, and culturally engaged. Finally, national memory, articulated through the reference to the Amatrice earthquake, presented as an act of civic responsibility by Rai: “to narrate the country through its wounds,” as Andreatta explained, underlining a commitment to realism – “to give an imaginary story an authentic spectrum of the real, where audiences could both recognize themselves and reflect.”

The axis of national memory was further reinforced by symbolic initiatives, such as the public screening of the fourth episode of the first season in Amatrice itself, attended by citizens, the mayor Filippo Palombini, the director, and actor Leonardo Mazzarotto (who plays Matteo in the series). Such gestures positioned the series not merely as entertainment but as a site of collective reflection, aligning Rai’s cultural output with its broader mandate of public service and civic engagement.

Conversations

Circulation patterns

The distribution strategy was designed to maximize visibility: a prime-time slot on Rai Uno, subsequent availability on RaiPlay, and international sales managed by Rai Com. The decision to position the series at the heart of generalist programming underscores a deliberate effort to frame diversity as a theme “for everyone,” rather than relegating it to marginal or niche spaces.
Distribution practices also capitalized on the valorization of real locations: Milan was showcased as a contemporary cultural capital, while Amatrice was represented as a site of national memory. The inclusion of musical cameos further encouraged cross-media circulation, with performances and tracks released across digital platforms. Special events, such as the screening of the Amatrice episode in the town itself, attended by citizens and local institutions, reinforced the symbolic bond between fiction and territory.

The second season, produced during the height of the pandemic, intensified online and social circulation, with interviews and additional content disseminated through YouTube, Instagram, and RaiPlay, thereby broadening its reach among younger audiences. In this respect, the project exemplifies a “glocal” product: deeply rooted in Italian settings and themes, yet capable of engaging with the global imaginary of musical teen series.

Awards and Festivals

The series has received the following recognitions:

Diversity Media Awards 2020: awarded as Best Italian TV Series, acknowledging its commitment to the representation of diversity and inclusivity.

Giffoni Experience Award 2019: presented to the cast of La Compagnia del Cigno during the Giffoni Film Festival, celebrating both its narrative quality and its impact on young audiences.

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Reception

The series was met with enthusiastic audience response: it averaged over 5.5 million viewers, with a share consistently above 23% and peaks reaching 30%. Particularly noteworthy was its success among younger demographics (ages 8-14 and 15-24), which recorded average shares between 21.5% and 24%, as well as among university graduates (28%) – audiences that traditionally show less engagement with Rai’s scripted programming. Eleonora Andreatta highlighted these results as evidence of a product capable of combining both “quantity and quality,” while also achieving transversal success across the national territory, with a remarkable 22% share in Lombardy, a “difficult” region where the Milan setting contributed to its appeal. Rai CEO Fabrizio Salini further underscored the centrality of inclusion, recalling the four Diversity Media Awards received by the company (Rai Fiction, Rai Ragazzi, Rai Cinema, Tg1) as confirmation of the public broadcaster’s role in promoting civic coexistence and plurality through offerings that address all age groups – not confined to niche programming.

Critical reception emphasized the novelty of the narrative. Piera Detassis described the series as a “human and musical journey” that valorizes Milan as a multicultural city. Aldo Grasso noted affinities with Glee, while criticizing certain stiffness in the acting. Other critics recognized the series as a bold experiment in “televisual modernity.” Conversely, several reviews underscored weaknesses: uneven performances, the difficulty of translating classical music into a narrative language, and a tendency to resolve complex conflicts in overly softened terms. At the most critical end of the spectrum, the Conservatorio of Padua publicly accused the show of caricaturing the realities of conservatory life.

Despite such reservations, the prevailing interpretation acknowledged the series’ inclusive force: its representations of disability, alternative families, non-normative bodies, and diverse geographic origins. The awards it garnered – most notably the Diversity Media Award – consolidated this reading. In sum, reception confirms the hybrid nature of the series: innovative within Rai’s institutional framework, reassuring for its generalist audience, celebrated for inclusivity yet criticized for oversimplification. It is precisely within this ambivalence – between risk and caution – that its significance as a case study emerges.

Italian and foreign press

Italian press

Piera Detassis, “La compagnia del cigno: A Whole Different Kind of Music”, Ciak Magazine, January 7, 2019.

 «Even before being a film about the dreams of young people, and before being a story lifted by music, La compagnia del cigno is an intense journey – human and geographical – through today’s Milan, infused with the memory of yesterday: from the Giuseppe Verdi Conservatory to the Bosco Verticale, from the understated bourgeois elegance of the city often hidden from view, to the new Garibaldi district skyline, and the multicultural life of Via Paolo Sarpi. […] As always, Cotroneo’s vision is a bold challenge that makes a difference on television: it takes genuine modernity to bring classical music into prime time (with pop influences and Mika’s original song Sound of an Orchestra on the soundtrack) and to center a group of teenagers who, at first glance, seem almost old-fashioned – no rap or hip-hop, only violin chords, oboe notes, and the “screaming room,” soundproofed, where they can unleash the anger of growing up – or of not yet being grown. The themes remain those dear to the author: the coming-of-age novel, the complexities of sexual identity, the wild belief that anything is still possible, and the sudden flights into incongruous, enchanted worlds that burst into the linear narrative and the rigid rooms of the Conservatory». 

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Aldo Grasso, “La compagnia del cigno”: Adolescence and Cotroneo’s Choices, Corriere della Sera, January 9, 2019.

«There is something about the drama La compagnia del cigno that doesn’t quite convince me. […] Its narrative structure immediately recalls a series like Glee, which took the musical genre and transformed it into a long-form story, tackling adolescent issues (self-awareness, drugs, homosexuality, disability, racial integration) while adding a surreal and magical layer far removed from everyday life. […] So what doesn’t work in La compagnia del cigno? The acting? To some extent, too absorbed in their roles, the young performers lack that touch of surreality that has always allowed Cotroneo to reshuffle the deck. As for the adults, they are consistently over the top. Is it classical music? Perhaps our own lack of familiarity may prevent us from fully internalizing the musical pieces and turning them into narrative opportunities. Or perhaps classical music here fails to transform itself into a genre capable of providing the right blend of musical and dramedy. Of course, the story of seven teenagers who discover friendship, solidarity, and complicity as they face generational challenges together is engaging in itself. But from Cotroneo, I expected something more».

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Editorial Staff, “La Compagnia del Cigno: Ratings Boom, but the Padua Conservatory Slams the Series,” Corriere della Sera, January 9, 2019

«While the public rewarded Ivan Cotroneo’s series, not everyone was pleased. In particular, the Conservatory of Padua posted a harsh critique of the drama on its official Facebook page.

The critical statement.

“The Conservatory of Padua formally distances itself from La Compagnia del Cigno, broadcast by Italian public television beginning January 7, 2019,” the note read. It continued: “What we have here is a mediocre parody, a caricature of the real lives of students and teachers in music conservatories. Moreover, we believe that Public Service should not spend public funds to spread false beliefs, outright falsifications of reality, and completely unrealistic stereotypes concerning music students and faculty. The public money used to produce and broadcast such an utterly inadequate series would have been far better spent securing the countless facilities of our conservatories that remain noncompliant, if not outright unsafe».

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Adriana Marmiroli, “La compagnia del cigno premieres on Rai Uno,” La Stampa, December 17, 2018.

«Paolo Sarpi decked out with red lanterns and lights for Chinese New Year, the rooftops of the city center with views of the Duomo, Piazzetta Duse as the backdrop for a deeply romantic moment, the Martesana canal, the Arco della Pace and the first stretch of Corso Sempione, the futuristic spire of the Unicredit Tower, the new buildings in Piazza Giulio Cesare, the Bosco Verticale… For the first time, Milan emerges not as a vague backdrop but as a true protagonist in a Rai drama. […] The story of seven young students enrolled at the Giuseppe Verdi Conservatory is firmly rooted in the city, which dominates the series through exterior shots that portray it as beautiful, dazzling, modern, and at the same time steeped in history. The direction and screenplay are by Ivan Cotroneo, who is not Milanese himself but admits, “I began to get to know the city when I came to work with Mika on the Rai 2 show.” The rest, he adds, came thanks to the series’ director of photography, the thoroughly Milanese Luca Bigazzi, who (let’s be honest) filmed the city with the love and pride that Milanese themselves so keenly feel these days».

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Silvia Fumarola, “La compagnia del cigno 2 Turns to Mystery. Ivan Cotroneo: With Music We Tell the Story of Youth and a Changing Italy,” La Repubblica, April 8, 2021.

«“We pick up with the kids two years later,” explains Ivan Cotroneo, director of the series and co-writer of the screenplay with Monica Rametta. “Each of them will face very significant personal challenges. We explore the concept of family: with the mothers, Carlotta Natoli and Claudia Potenza, who each confront their own struggles for different reasons, and through Roja’s character. That role allowed us to win the Diversity Award – he raises Matteo as if he were his own son and creates a family unit. The mothers’ roles are particularly compelling: Potenza’s character is abandoned by her husband, while Natoli’s, who leads a quiet upper-middle-class life, sees her world collapse when a scandal sends her husband to prison.” A novelty of this second chapter […] is the introduction of a crime-tinged subplot through the character of Kayà, who returns from the past. “It was a real challenge to bring in this noir element,” says Rametta, “without turning the series into a crime drama, but weaving it in softly, trying to blend it seamlessly with the main story. We worked extensively on the script.” Cotroneo adds: “Our idea of mystery has more to do with the psychology of emotions». 

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Gianmaria Tammaro, “La compagnia del cigno: Rai at Its Worst,” Esquire, January 10, 2019.

«[…] In La compagnia del cigno we see once again the stereotypical, lackluster storytelling of Italian television drama – a tired, already-seen solution. Ivan Cotroneo, its creator, seems perpetually uncertain about which direction to take, about how to shape his characters. They are always halfway defined, always confused, always predictable. […] Cotroneo has drawn quite obviously from many, perhaps too many, sources – without ever committing fully to any of them, without deciding how to steer his drama (because no, this is not a series). What is missing are all the elements that, in recent years both in Italy and abroad, have made youth series successful. Absent is the core idea of a realistic, sincere narrative – one that does not diminish its protagonists (as happens, for instance, in Skam Italia), and one that avoids leaning on clichés and stereotypes (whether the superficially good ones or the profoundly bad ones). Missing, too, is writing that convinces – credible, undistorted, not weighed down by banalities or by a dramaturgy obsessed with predictability. […] The weakest character remains the one played by Alessio Boni: a bundle of clichés, false charisma, and senseless cruelty (or rather, we are told, simply the side effects of genius)».

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