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Rating: "How long are they going to stretch this out, aoh! But in the end, who are these masons?"
"Thieves like us, only they wear hooded robes!"
1970s: bombings, red and black terrorism, the historic compromise. The Banda della Magliana. After the 2005 film directed by Michele Placido, it's Stefano Sollima who brings the story back, this time to the small screen, the tales of Rome's most famous criminal gang. Once again inspired, like the cinematic version, by the novel of the same name by Giancarlo De Cataldo. For Sky, this is the second self-produced drama after Quo Vadis, Baby?: a total of two seasons, fifty-five episodes, and considerable success. Far more than the film, enough to encourage Sky to use the same formula with Gomorra. Lauded by critics as the new great Italian drama after years of struggle and misery, Romanzo Criminale is the "classic" gangster epic – so to speak – akin to Scarface, with references sprinkled from The Godfather and other mafia movie icons. The saga reimagined by Sollima, however, is a typically Italian rise and fall, intricately woven with the (real) events of those tumultuous years. That the true Banda della Magliana was involved in some way with the Moro kidnapping, the Bologna massacre, and the P2 scandal – among many others, possibly the most significant events of the years straddling the '70s and '80s – is not an invention of either De Cataldo or the Lazio-based director: it's almost history, although there has always been a lack of certainty regarding such obscure and still eerily mysterious matters. All very much Italian, indeed.
The Libanese, Bufalo, and Dandi are small-time criminals, little more than local thieves and drug dealers. But when the first, driven by a thirst for revenge against the old boss (an excellent Marco Giallini), decides to team up with other figures from the local underworld, the newly formed gang conquers Rome and even reaches the opulent salons of more or less clandestine politics. Thus, the Libanese and his crew encounter secret services, P2 masons, neo-fascists, mafiosi, camorristi. The goal is one and the same: to become the new kings of Rome. To stand above all, with heads held high, laying down the law without dependence on anyone. And it’s not that simple, because as we know, "Rome doesn't want leaders."
Sollima expertly handles the camera, offering a well-balanced direction to which the convincing soundtrack (from Joy Division's Atmosphere to Franco Battiato spanning Tears for Fears' Shout) adds further emphasis. The cinematography is rated highly, also for the choice to use pleasantly vintage filters and colors. But the real strength of the series is the actors' performances: besides the aforementioned Marco Giallini, Vinicio Marchioni is notably praiseworthy as Freddo, the right-hand man. A steadfast man, almost idealistic toward the gang, co-protagonist with his own personal ethical code. The one who acts more from the heart than for interest's sake. An honorable mention goes to Francesco Montanari as the Libanese, worth the price of admission alone. Ugly, bad, rough, and with semi-animalistic features. A scowl etched on his face, perpetually furrowed and threatening: he raises his voice, commands, judges, and condemns. Yet ultimately, he only wants to take care of his mother. The performances of Marco Bocci, portraying the tenacious Commissioner Scialoja, and Daniela Virgilio, the prostitute Patrizia, are also excellent. All this, naturally, with a strong and colorful Roman accent in the dialogues.
This is undoubtedly, finally, a great Italian drama. Which bodes well for the near future, given that Gomorra may represent yet another step forward, especially in terms of cinematography. And so, at the end of the two seasons of Romanzo Criminale, we are also presented with a slightly populist-tinged moral: the real baddies aren't out on the street shooting and killing each other. They wear elegant glasses and sit on comfortable chairs in offices filled with archives, documents, and paperwork. Only we, as spectators, never really find out who they truly are, why they act, and on whose behalf they work. Or maybe we do. Magistrate Borgia, whom the gang tries to ensnare, states in one of the final episodes: "This is a war that can't be won". Could it be that the line between fiction and reality, in the case of Romanzo Criminale, is indeed thin? Small spoiler: there is a moral, but a happy ending (of course) there is not. Definitely not.
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