Wedding planner in Catania: the tenor, the puppeteer grandfather and the wooden sword

Some weddings are planned with a spreadsheet, others by listening. Marta, a wedding planner in Catania for twelve years, thought she knew both kinds. Then she met grandfather Alfio, who for half a century had given his voice to the paladins of the Sicilian puppet theatre. This is the story of how a wedding tenor in Catania changed the running order of a celebration, and of a wooden sword that changed hands.

Alessia and Fabio's running order

Alessia and Fabio arrived at the studio with a sheet already filled in. A baroque church in via Crociferi, a reception in a villa at the foot of Etna, one hundred and twenty guests. Next to the word "music", Fabio had written a single word: DJ.

"In church the parish organist is enough," he said. "We'll have the real music in the evening."

Marta nodded and took notes. It wasn't her job to argue with the couple's tastes. But she had seen too many ceremonies where people checked their phones during communion. And too many receptions where the first truly moving moment came at midnight, when half of the older guests had already gone home.

"May I ask you something?" she said. "Who is the person you care about most who will be sitting in the front row?"

Alessia didn't hesitate. "Fabio's grandfather. Grandpa Alfio."

Grandpa Alfio and the voice of the paladins

Marta met him the following week, in a house full of shelves. On the shelves stood puppets almost a metre tall: Orlando with his golden helmet, Rinaldo with his red cloak, Gano di Maganza with his traitor's face. Grandpa Alfio was eighty-five, and for fifty years he had lent his voice to all of them, in a small theatre in the old town.

"Do you know the secret of a show?" he asked, pouring her a glass of Etna wine. "The paladin never enters the stage in silence. Before the sword, comes the music. If you get the music wrong, the audience doesn't believe it."

Marta looked at Orlando on the shelf. Then she thought of the word Fabio had written on the sheet.

"And at your grandson's wedding, what music would you like?"

The old man was silent for a moment. "I'd like to hear a real voice. In church. Like when I was a boy. But don't tell Fabio. Young people have their own tastes."

The budget and the right question

Marta didn't tell Fabio. She did something better: she asked him to come with her to Mass one Sunday morning, in a church in Acireale where a tenor she had known for years sang.

Fabio came with his hands in his pockets and the air of someone doing a favour. He sat at the back. When the tenor began the Ave Maria, he stopped looking at his phone. At the end he stayed seated even as the others left.

"How much does it cost?" he asked Marta on the church steps.

"Less than you think, if we drop something nobody will remember. The coloured lights in the garden, for example."

Fabio looked at the church. "Grandpa always said it. Before the sword, comes the music."

That evening he called Alessia. The next day the running order had changed: a tenor for the church wedding, then at the reception for the couple's entrance and for the cake. The DJ would come later, for dancing. Everything in its own moment.

"A wedding planner doesn't fill in boxes. She puts every emotion in its place."

Via Crociferi: the Ave Maria that made grandpa Alfio stand

On the wedding day via Crociferi was closed to traffic and full of sunshine. The baroque façades looked carved from honey. Grandpa Alfio entered the church on Fabio's arm, with his walking stick and his best tie.

Mass went by serenely. Then, after communion, the tenor began the Ave Maria. The voice rose towards the dome and came back down slowly, like a caress.

Marta, at the back of the church, was watching the front row. She saw grandpa Alfio rest his hands on his stick and, slowly, stand up. Nobody had asked him to. He stayed on his feet until the last note, as one does before something sacred.

Fabio turned to him. The old man's eyes were wet and his lips were moving, without a sound, as when he used to recite the paladins' lines backstage.

The villa at the foot of Etna and the wooden sword

The reception was in a baroque villa among lemon trees, with the volcano smoking gently on the horizon. During the aperitif the piano played under the portico. When the couple entered the hall, the tenor welcomed them with a famous aria, and one hundred and twenty people rose together.

When it was time for the cake, grandpa Alfio asked for the microphone. His hands were shaking. From the bag he had carried all day he took out a small wooden sword with a worn hilt.

"This is Orlando's sword," he said. "The first one I ever held, at twelve. Orlando only gave it to those who were worthy." He turned to Fabio. "Today you chose well. You put the music before the sword."

The tenor began a romanza. Fabio took the sword in both hands, like a paladin. Alessia was crying and laughing at the same time.

The next day Marta opened the running order file for the next wedding. She moved "ceremony music" to the top of the list. Because choosing a wedding tenor in Catania isn't a whim for elegant couples. It's remembering that every great moment, before it begins, needs its music.

Elegant music for the reception hall in Catania

In Catania a wedding doesn't end with the last note in church. It continues in baroque villas, in halls at the foot of Etna or overlooking the sea of Aci Castello. And there, the most attentive couples ask for the same care they gave the ceremony. Elegant music for the reception hall can be a tenor accompanying the couple's entrance with a famous aria, a piano that makes the aperitif refined, a romanza when the cake is cut. A few well-chosen moments are worth more than hours of background music.

Would you like to hear the voice that made grandpa Alfio stand up?

Do as Fabio did: listen before you choose. Listen to Maestro Ilarion live in church. Then put your running order back in order, starting with the music.

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