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Narrative & characters

A coming-of-age story about a young woman navigating confusion and existential crisis, Volevo fare la rockstar inhabits a hybrid narrative space, poised between sparkling comedy and socially grounded dramedy. The protagonist, Olivia, experienced motherhood during adolescence and now, at twenty-seven, finds herself reclaiming affective, professional, and existential experiences already traversed by her peers. This temporal gap forms the narrative core of the series, allowing a discourse on growth, motherhood, and interrupted trajectories, intertwined with a local setting marked by post-industrial decline and a pervasive sense of immobility. The representation of Olivia breaks with the traditional television image of the “heroic mother.” While responsible and deeply devoted to her daughters, she is not immune to errors, hesitations, escapist impulses, and frustrated desires. The narrative grants her complexity and contradictions, presenting a three-dimensional character distanced from both idealization and demonization. Around her move figures that resist one-dimensional coding: the twins, Viola and Emma, embody contrasting approaches to preadolescence—the former physical and impulsive, the latter intellectual and unripe in her body—thus portraying with realism the identity tensions typical of that age. Nadja, Olivia’s mother, introduces drug addiction as a destabilizing element not reduced to mere narrative obstacle, embodying fragility infused with vitality. Eros, Olivia’s younger brother, personifies a lighthearted and ironic youth, yet one internally shaped by trauma and uncertainty, epitomized in his secret relationship with Antonio, a closeted policeman, symbolizing the difficulties of openly living homosexuality in small towns. Francesco, a widower recently arrived from Milan, brings an “external” gaze upon the community, oscillating between fascination and conflict, and acts as a catalyst for Olivia’s sentimental development. This choral structure is sustained by writing that alternates light registers with moments of intense emotional charge, deliberately avoiding rhetorical choices of facile sentimentality. The North-Eastern province is not a neutral backdrop but a true character: its spaces—silent streets, abandoned industrial architecture, small local shops—mirror mechanisms of social control, the weight of silence, and the intensity of close relationships. The series distinguishes itself through its ability to intertwine family micro-stories with broader social issues—precarious employment, economic marginalization, mental health, discrimination, identity quests—within a visual and dramaturgical grammar inspired by international indie comedy, where everyday realism alternates with moments of poetic suspension. The narrative rhythm, marked by dilated pacing and an emphasis on domestic and communal spaces, roots the events in a concrete horizon, where questions of inclusion are not extraneous “themes” but structural elements of the characters’ lives. In this sense, Volevo fare la rockstar succeeds in portraying provincial Italy on screen without nostalgia or caricature, exploring its contradictions and turning it into fertile ground for storytelling that is both intimate and social.

Stereotypes & strategies of inclusion

The series addresses inclusion by avoiding stereotypes and tokenism, weaving differences and vulnerabilities seamlessly into everyday life. The comedic register—often “bright and a little irreverent”—does not serve a consolatory function but rather enables the emergence, lightly yet incisively, of issues that generalist television tends to relegate to marginal subplots: sexual orientation, addiction, mental health, precariousness, non-normative bodies, single motherhood. In this sense, the series works against stereotypes: it does not spectacularize otherness but integrates it into the structure of the represented community, rooted in the social fabric of the North-Eastern province, with its mechanisms of control, silence, and proximity. Eros’s trajectory is emblematic. Initially presented more as a “third child” than as Olivia’s brother, Eros gradually escapes the cliché of the egocentric and irresponsible youth. His relationship with Antonio—a closeted policeman engaged to their friend Vanessa—places him in an ethical-affective knot that transcends sentimental anecdote. Here converge institutional authority (the Carabinieri as a symbolic locus of normative masculinity), social expectation (the presumed heterosexual engagement), loyalty to a friend, and, above all, the negotiation of desire.

The kiss between Eros and Antonio—filmed without melodramatic emphasis, almost in subtraction, letting gestures, glances, and the aftermath speak—becomes a threshold scene, marking the passage from a sexuality confined to secrecy to a fragile, reversible possibility of visibility and normalization. The refusal to load the sequence with “exceptional” markers aligns with the series’ entire framework: inclusion is not a spectacular rupture but the slow transformation of narrative coordinates. This arc moves Eros from adolescent impetuousness toward an evolving, partial assumption of responsibility—for himself, for others, for the community space that observes (and judges) him. In doing so, the writing avoids the double stereotype of the “gay victim” and the “comic relief”: Eros is neither martyr nor caricature but a subject learning to balance desire with consequences, self-care with relational care. Similarly, Nadja is not cast as the monolithic “anti-mother” often opposed to the virtuous protagonist in television drama, but as a woman negotiating addiction, relapses, and attempts at reintegration. Her re-entry into Olivia’s family constellation is neither a linear arc of redemption nor an irreversible fall into disaster; it is a subterranean movement, marked by bursts and stumbles, vitality and chaos.

Inclusion here concerns not only “minoritized” identities but also the recognition of addiction as a matter of health and relationships rather than individual fault. Representing Nadja without moralism also restores Olivia’s female genealogy in all its discontinuity: a daughter forced into “parentification” to raise two girls during adolescence and a mother attempting, belatedly and imperfectly, to reclaim her role. In this interlocking of roles lies the breadth of the series’ inclusive gaze: attention not only to identities but to processes of care and their failures, to provisional reunions that nevertheless constitute family. Within this framework, the series also reopens discourse on young motherhood and female sexuality outside normative boundaries. Olivia desires, errs, withdraws, starts over: the “single mother” is neither pedagogized nor sanctified, and female eros is not narratively punished.

Likewise, the adolescence of the twins is treated as a concrete laboratory of identity: the materiality of changing bodies, the asymmetry of cognitive and physical development, awkwardness and emotional hyperbole are not targets of ridicule but places of empathy. Humor serves here not to mock but to strip away patina, making embarrassment speakable without spectacle. Overall, Volevo fare la rockstar practices a “low-key” but persistent inclusion: it shifts the center of gravity from discourses of exception to the patient work of normality. The mise-en-scène avoids stigmatizing codes (pornography of pain, forced heroization), preferring a fabric of small formal choices—elongated pacing, attention to silences, restrained editing, controlled de-dramatization—that restores the social density of characters. Thus the series resists the model of the “perfect Mulino Bianco family” without replacing it with the equally stereotyped “pathologically dysfunctional family”: instead, it proposes an imperfect, contradictory, and permeable community where inclusion is neither promotional slogan nor narrative shock, but a daily practice of coexistence. In a prime time historically allergic to the complexity of difference, this subtractive choice emerges, paradoxically, as the most radical.

Conversations

Riccardo Maria Manera discusses the character of Eros and his relationship to homosexuality (Diregiovani, April 6, 2022).

Valentina Bellè presents the series, discussing her character and the (young) audience it targets (SpettacoloEU, October 28, 2019).

Strategies

Volevo fare la rockstar originates from the autobiographical blog of Valentina Santandrea, a digital diary combining irony, disillusionment, and a non-rhetorical sensitivity to the economic and social difficulties of provincial life. The adaptation, developed by screenwriters with Santandrea’s direct involvement, aimed to preserve the authenticity of the original voice, translating it into a serial language without diminishing its complexity or flattening it onto pre-existing television codes. The choice to film in Gorizia and surrounding areas was not only scenic but also a narrative and production positioning strategy. Setting the story in a place rarely explored by Italian television allowed the series to portray a lateral Italy, far from the over-represented urban poles, imbued with linguistic, social, and visual specificity that became integral to the series’ identity. The use of real locations, such as the Amideria Chiozza, introduced an aesthetic of industrial archaeology, reflecting the historical stratification of a territory suspended between memory and abandonment. Strategically, broadcasting on Rai 2—the most experimental channel of the public service—granted greater freedom in tonal and linguistic choices, in the representation of topics considered “sensitive” for prime time, and in the blending of genres. This positioned Volevo fare la rockstar within Rai’s offer of niche or “laboratory” products aimed at more curious audiences, willing to move beyond consolidated narrative conventions.

Communication rhetorics

While production strategies embraced innovation, promotional strategies appeared in many respects cautious. The series did not benefit from a strong launch campaign: its absence from mainstream entertainment and talk shows limited the possibility of reaching wider audiences. Communication relied largely on interviews in specialized outlets, word of mouth, and behind-the-scenes storytelling centered on teamwork and cast cohesion. When present, promotional discourse emphasized two main elements: the set as a space of shared creativity, with actors and the director described as a tightly knit group; and the Friuli Venezia Giulia setting, highlighted as a distinctive and “unprecedented” element for Italian fiction, valued as a mark of authenticity and differentiation. Issues of inclusion and diversity, though central to the narrative, were only marginally and sporadically emphasized. The only notable exception was a few statements underscoring Rai’s “courage” in portraying a homosexual love story in prime time—yet without this becoming a real promotional driver. This gap between the inclusive strength of the text and the caution of its promotional discourse reflects an internal tension within public service: the experimental vocation of certain products and the prudence with which they are presented to mass audiences.

Conversations

Valentina Bellè and Valentina Santandrea, guests on Caterina Balivo’s show, discuss the series and its protagonist, comparing reality and fiction (Rai, October 30, 2019).

Circulation patterns

The first season of Volevo fare la rockstar, consisting of twelve episodes, aired on Rai 2 from 30 October to 4 December 2019, with two weekly broadcasts and simultaneous availability on RaiPlay—confirming the channel’s aim to also occupy the on-demand space. The second season, reduced to eight episodes, was broadcast again on Rai 2 between 23 March and 13 April 2022, replicating the formula of linear airing paired with full release on RaiPlay. Subsequently, the first season was added to the Prime Video catalogue, opening the potential to reach new and broader audiences, although no official viewership data are available for the platform. Television ratings ranged between 5% and 7% share, with an average of about 900,000 viewers per episode. Modest numbers for generalist prime time, yet consistent with the channel’s positioning and with a product whose tone and themes targeted an audience not traditionally loyal to Rai prime time. Significantly, the ratings curve remained stable: though without peaks, the series maintained a steady base of viewers, partly reinforced by word of mouth and streaming consumption. Despite offering a dual window of broadcast and on-demand access, the circulation strategy lacked strong cross-media investment or targeted promotion in foreign markets. This limited exposure constrained the potential of a narrative and visual framework that, in both tone and style, could have resonated with international audiences attuned to provincial tales and “imperfect” family comedies in line with certain European and North American traditions.

Reception

Critically, the series was widely well received, albeit in a context of limited media attention. Vanity Fair described it as a “little gem” unjustly overlooked, praising its writing and performances. MoviePlayer.it highlighted its thematic and stylistic innovation within the Rai landscape, particularly in its ability to address themes unusual for prime time with a fresh and realistic approach. Hall of Series emphasized its “non-Italian” quality in a positive sense, aligning it more with platform productions than with national-popular public television formats. TV Blog commended the choice of setting the story in the provinces and portraying everyday life without lapsing into stereotypes or caricature. These positive receptions were further consolidated by recognition at the Diversity Media Awards 2020, where the series was a finalist in the category of “Best Italian TV Series.” Although it did not win (the award went to another Rai production, La compagnia del cigno), the nomination is significant, testifying to appreciation for the sensitivity with which Volevo fare la rockstar portrays non-conventional sexual and family identities. The series’ strength lies precisely in combining entertainment with social discourse, offering a model of inclusion that is non-didactic and fully integrated into narrative dynamics, where diversity is never an accessory theme but an organic component of the storyworld.

Conversations

Italian and foreign press

Italian Press 

“Volevo fare la rockstar 2 Is a Little Gem (But Rai Needs to Step In)”, Vanity Fair, March 24, 2022.

« Those who keep repeating like parrots that Italian seriality fails, does not dare, does not strike, trapped in a binary system where only priests, doctors, and inspectors seem permitted, probably have never seen Volevo fare la rockstar, a masterpiece of writing and interpretation directed by Matteo Oleotto, which was unjustly overlooked and lived above all thanks to word of mouth, recommended to everyone because such well-crafted and well-written series are extremely rare today». 

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Erika Sciamanna, “Volevo fare la rockstar, the Review: Rai’s New, Fresh Drama Series”, MoviePlayer.it, October 30, 2019. 

«Volevo fare la rockstar is therefore an imperfect series, yet innovative and fresh—both in the way the story is told and in the themes it tackles, unusual for Rai 2’s prime time but necessary for a network that wishes to grow and innovate, offering not only entertainment but also snapshots of a society in natural evolution, with problems and difficulties in which viewers can recognize themselves and empathize. This new Rai fiction is thus an interesting product that we recommend to anyone seeking something different from the habitual evening schedule».

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Sara Crecco, “Volevo fare la rockstar – A Rai Series That Doesn’t Feel Like a Rai Series”, Hall of Series, April 14, 2022. 

«It is both one of the most interesting and multifaceted serial offerings in the Rai schedule, and one of the most underrated. Perhaps it is the mistrust generated by the title, or perhaps it was not targeted at the right audience? Quite likely, had the series been produced by Netflix, it would have received a different kind of attention. And on reflection, we would gladly have traded it for Baby. It may not possess the brilliance of Boris or the poetic and visionary atmosphere of Anna, but Volevo fare la rockstar is a decidedly un-Italian series that undoubtedly deserves a chance».

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Paolo Sutera, “Volevo Fare la Rockstar 2, The Praise of Small-Town Life That Doesn’t Make You Miss Metropolitan Stories”, TV Blog, March 23, 2022.

«Volevo fare la rockstar 2 reminds us that, beyond the narrative worlds set in the omnipresent cities of Italian television drama, there also exists the world of the provinces: here, its essence and simplicity become gold for the screenwriters, who do not need to invent extraordinary twists to engage the audience. It is enough simply to narrate—always in an entertaining and never tedious way—a daily life in which many viewers will recognize themselves».

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