‘Gomorrah’ Isn’t A Great Mafia Show, But It Gets The Bloody Job Done


When Francis Ford Coppola agreed to direct The Godfather, it was on the condition that he wasn’t going to make just another mob movie, but rather tell a bigger story about the rise of American business. Coppola’s goal was to “elevate” the material beyond its pulp-y, disreputable roots in Mario Puzo’s 1969 novel, and he obviously succeeded. This set a course not just for the Godfather franchise but the entire mob genre — every film and TV show made post-Godfather has in some way reacted to Coppola’s conflation of the crime underworld with the corporate mainstream, and the artistic ambition that prompted it.

Matteo Garrone’s 2009 film Gomorrah, based on Roberto Saviano’s 2006 book, in a way was an attempt to refocus, taking all the metaphors out of mob movies and just telling an unvarnished story about the horrors inflicted by gangsters wreaking havoc in Naples and Caserta. The movie’s reputation — it won the Grand Prix at Cannes and became an international commercial and critical hit — derived from the authenticity of the savagery committed by a large cast of degenerates split among five storylines. (The most disturbing subplot involves two teen wannabes who wind up getting murdered by their would-be patrons.) Critics, most notably Roger Ebert, took special note of how Gomorrah was a “curative for the romanticism” of The Godfather and Brian De Palma’s Scarface, which Gomorrah references directly. But while Gomorrah is certainly more violent than The Godfather, I’d argue that its “realism first” approach has made it seem smaller and less rich as the years go by. It is precisely the sort of film that Coppola didn’t want to make — just another gangster picture, no matter how well made.

The strengths and weaknesses of the film version of Gomorrah have carried over to the TV version, which debuted in Italy in 2014 to great acclaim and blockbuster ratings, and has finally made it to the U.S. via the Sundance Channel. Gomorrah the TV show is frequently punishing and often riveting, though ultimately humorless and somewhat shopworn. It’s an entertaining watch for fans of mafia shows, though it doesn’t venture far beyond the genre’s well-established conventions.

The most important difference between the film and TV show is that the TV show has a much narrower focus, centering on the quietly malevolent Don Pietro (Fortunato Cerlino), his immature, Fredo Corleone/A.J. Soprano-like son, Genny (Salvatore Esposito), and Ciro’s trusted henchman and surrogate Michael Corleone, Ciro (Marco D’Amore), nicknamed “The Immortal” because of his apparent charmed existence in otherwise lethal circumstances.

Anyone who has watched The Godfather, Goodfellas, or The Sopranos knows that the bonds of family will be tested by greed and ambition in Gomorrah, and alliances that appear secure will inevitable weaken and likely culminate in beautifully orchestrated acts of murder and mayhem. This, more or less, is how Gomorrah unfolds, with the reliable dose of the cinematic flair that is associated with these kinds of mafia stories. There are also plenty of shockingly violent outbursts that come out of nowhere and lash out with bludgeoning effectiveness. A sequence from the pilot set in a café is especially devastating — I won’t go into detail, as the power of Gomorrah comes from surprising the audience with a willingness to up the ante on brutality.

What’s strange (or perhaps just disappointing) is that the makers of Gomorrah didn’t take advantage of the TV format to expand, rather than reduce, the scope of the story. The film gives a deeper and more panoramic view of the southern Italian crime world in two hours than the TV show does over the course of several episodes. This is where comparisons to The Wire, which have been a staple of Gomorrah reviews, ring false. While Gomorrah does touch on various levels of the crime-world hierarchy in a way that’s vaguely reminiscent of the classic HBO series, the power struggle between Pietro and his would-be successors commands most of the screen time.

Tonally, Gomorrah is mostly grim and as dark as the relentlessly shadowy cinematography, displaying little of the humor that leavened The Wire or The Sopranos. Ultimately, Gomorrah is also far less ambitious thematically than either of those shows, preferring to dwell on its motley cast of characters and mete out exposition about an evolving turf war with a rival gang rather than make any grand statements about systemic corruption or the human condition.

But if Gomorrah falls short of great, it can still be appreciated as a solid entry in the mafia canon. The actors are uniformly excellent even when the roles feel clichéd, especially Esposito in the thankless part of the dweeby boy-prince who talks the talk of a gangster but pukes his guts out when he’s called upon to actually kill somebody. D’Amore is charismatic in the lead as the cool and assured Ciro, though like Cerlino’s Don Pietro he’s a bit of a cipher. Perhaps making the characters more colorful or distinctive would have made Gomorrah less realistic, since that seems to be this show’s brand, for better or worse. Gomorrah would rather hit the usual mafia beats with dead-eyed competency, the way the pros do it.

Gomorrah premieres on Sundance TV tonight, August 23, at 10 p.m. ET.

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