Review of Gomorrah (2008) by Paul Z — 06 Dec 2009

Continually impressive at living down Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, Roger Ebert once again hits the nail on the head in his review of this brutal little experience when he begins by saying it â??is a film about Italian criminals killing one another. One death after another. Remorseless. Strictly business. The question arises: How are there enough survivors to carry on the business? Another question: Why do willing recruits submit themselves to this dismal regime?â?? This is not a bloodfest. Itâ??s more of a downer. Probably not the best description, but fair when you describe the alternative as bloodfest. Considering the hype surrounding this adaptation of the underground journalistic book of the same name, which earned its author round-the-clock police protection, it is indeed the violence inherent in the true-account material that has drawn its cult appeal. And yet that appeal is the smack in the face while we watch; it does not want to be seen for fun or for the same romanticized, stylized â??realismâ?? of the Godfather films or even a Scorsese picture.

It has been compared by film buffs with City of God, another panoramic journalistic portrait of a real and present cluster of gangland violence in the slums of a locale normally portrayed as exotic and beautiful, Italy and Brazil respectively. Since the long-anticipated DVD release, those who prefer City of God are the seeming majority by a wide margin, one in which Iâ??m included, but Fernando Meirellesâ?? film was about the successful avoidance and determined entrenchment of different characters who grow up dodging bullets and keeping their mouths shut, and so thereâ??s movement in their lives, and the film is fast-paced and full of action. Nobody escapes the Naples and Caserta underworld controlled by the Camorra. Theyâ??re born into it and hardly find themselves capable of using an opportunity to find a better life when any kind of window comes along. There is no excitement or joy to any degree to which the average viewer would probably be accustomed.

I would think Traffic to be a more fitting comparison. Like Traffic, Gomorra focuses unequivocally on character subjects, an objective dramatization of the nitty-gritty rather than a portrayal of any particular characterâ??s subjective experience or transformation. The difference now has more to do with another interesting element of Gomorraâ??s storytelling as a film: We never see the higher-ups. We donâ??t see or know who exactly runs all the things that go on in the Hyperlink plot structure, which is popular with other real-world social-conscience ensemble dramas of the past few years, Syriana, Crossing Over, Crash, Alejandro Gonzalez Inarrituâ??s Death Trilogy, etc. What is distinct about Gomorra in this area is the inescapability of its monochromatic settings, all-consuming dust and decaying concrete, and its cross-section of people whose circumstances are similar, all growing from each other and yet often never meet each other. This basically says, well if they canâ??t escape from this fear-fueled prison, at least they have a lot of room to roam inside of it. That is as far as the film goes in gratifying the longing of the audience to see the eventual sunny side up.

Toni Servillo---who is also being seen a lot in America right now in Il Divo, another sophisticated and applauded recent contribution to modern cinema from Italy---once again, like he does as Giulio Andreotti, disappears into a role, but not with any aid from make-up effects and starkly defined idiosyncrasies, but precisely the diametric opposite. He gave a very good performance as Andreotti, but here is where he proves his true colors as an actor, because although he is, in Italian pop culture, a name in a cast of mostly no-names, he stands out no more than anyone else. Indeed, no one stands out. None of the sets, none of the scenes. It is all horizontal, offset, candid.

What do stand out in Gomorra, regardless, are certain moments. Upon reflection, it is not so much scenes, any sequence of events, that we recall, but rather fleeting shots that time-wise expand in your mind. For instance, I keep remembering the timid Walter White-reminiscent mob go-between walking into the street to an uncertain future. Of course we will all recall the powerful scene of the two cocky, out of control, teenage wannabe-gangsters, having stripped to their briefs, firing round after round from subhandmachine-guns and assault rifles, blasting recklessly out at the sea bank. But more clearly I recall the moment when another young character, a 13-year-old grocery delivery boy, sees from his building that drugs and a gun have been ditched by a gang just seconds before being apprehended by police. Or when that same boy must walk away, and in the background, we see a woman looking quizzically after him. Just as the armed men inch closer behind her.