Gomorrah

When Martin Scorsese introduced “Gormorrah” to American audiences at the New York Film Festival (spring, 2008) he suggested that people should forget what traditional narrative means. “Watch this movie,” went on Mr Scorsese, “and you will find yourself in no man’s land, walking down an unknown street. No way out of it. You will feel trapped. Trapped and doomed. It’s a real tragedy.”

“Gomorrah” is a remarkable film, that’s for sure, telling multiple stories in parallel fashion, every one of them a tale of entrapment, doom and tragedy. Obviously, the title hearkens back to the Biblical story of Sodom and Gomorrah, but it's a play on the word "Camorra" - the crime organization centered in and around Naples.

If there’s a message here, it’s this: crime is utterly stupid, those who manage it are utterly banal and the lesser figures (money runners and young boys) caught up into it are utterly trapped – once in, there is no way out – and you will either serve the organization and likely be killed in the line of duty, or attempt to mitigate your participation in it and be killed as an example. Death is lord of the entire film.

There’s no glamor here, no beautiful women, no fascinating men – even the top dogs wear cheap clothing and endlessly fret about the competition and possible hitches.

There is no song and dance, no wine and roses, no fabulous late-might meals in the backroom of some terrific restaurant - only cruelty, money and the constant struggle to maintain power and control – at any cost. People are nothing.

Whether it be drugs or illegal toxic dumping, no one cares about anything except raw survival and the success of the operation. If your truck drivers quit when they discover the toxic load they're dumping, higher young boys to do it - they can hardly wait to drive the big trucks around the dump site.

Technically, a well-done piece clearly having the feel of a documentary.

Emotionally, there’s so much going on, it’s hard to identify with any one character. I found myself fascinated – like stopping at an accident scene – watching in spite of myself, but without a lot of emotional engagement. One story caught my spirit: a young boy who delivers groceries, a good boy who does a few errands now and then for the mob, is finally cornered with “are you with us or not, and if you’re not, you’re dead.”

Reluctantly, the young boy knocks on the door of a home to which he regularly delivers groceries. Upon hearing his voice, a woman opens the door, only to be shot to death by a waiting assailant, as the young boy walks away, without looking back. It seems the woman’s son had betrayed the Camorra, so they made him a lesson by killing his mother.




There is no escape for anyone.

I can’t say this is a great film, but maybe that’s what makes it great. It’s a snapshot of life – bits and pieces, none of which mean anything by themselves, but all stitched together into a tale of sadness.

Watching this film, no one would ever say, “that’s the life for me,” nor will the audience even remotely think, “These are people just like me.” No they are not. They are utterly cruel, utterly banal and utterly stripped of their humanity.

If entrapment is the message, it comes through loud and clear. With a simple message: crime doesn’t pay anything but sorrow and death.