Gomorra
In terms of cinematic markers for the Mafia, Francis Ford Coppola’s Godfather trilogy (1972, 1974, 1990) has now held a generational hold over public perceptions of the world of organized crime and its associated values of honour, family and tradition, which almost ennoble the atrocities committed by the Corleone clan.

The approach from director Matteo Garrone (Primo amore (2004)) in Gomorra, which was honoured with the jury’s Grand Prix at Cannes this year, places the emphasis far more on realism – a latter-day Donnie Brasco (1997), if you like, set among the Neapolitan mafia, known as the Camorra.

Young Totò (Salvatore Abruzzese) finds himself drawn to the Camorra from an early age (shades of Goodfellas (1990)). Marco and Ciro (Marco Macor and Ciro Petrone, both excellent) are somewhat older and brasher, believing that they can pull the wool over the eyes of the local Don who runs the neighbourhood, in stealing cocaine and the like.
 
The older community members are also involved - Pasquale (Salvatore Cantalupo) is a tailor who is offered an opportunity to teach his trade in an illegal Chinese-run counterfeiting workshop, which does not sit well with his current illegal employers, who are funded by the Camorra. University graduate Roberto (Camine Paternoster), starts working for Franco (Toni Servillo), who runs an illegal toxic waste business that makes millions for the Camorra, while Don Ciro (Gianfelice Imparato) is a Camorra ‘submarine’, who helps the families of the imprisoned Camorra faithful keep up payments until their men return.

Superbly adapted by Maurizio Braucci from Roberto Saviano’s novel (the author is apparently at present in hiding, following death threats from the mob), Garrone’ s perspective provides a far more in-depth study of the extent to which crime is king in southern Italy, rather than studying moral delinquencies at an individual level.

And perhaps most alarming is the sober conclusion that Garrone presents concerning this ‘crime universe’, that it exists precisely because there is no alternative on offer.
137 mins.

Caos calmo (Quiet Chaos)

In this affecting, involving and occasionally harrowing examination of how grief can throw the mind off kilter, by renowned Italian director Antonello Grimaldi (Un Delitto impossibile (2001)), widower Pietro Paladini (actor/director Nanni Moretti) is spending his post-bereavement days on a bench in front of his daughter’s primary school. The story recalls Moretti’s own Palme d’Or winner La stanza del figlio (The Son’s Room) (2001), but Grimaldi’s adaptation of the bestselling Sandro Veronesi novel stands on its own merits.
Paladini is a successful TV executive whose company is working out an important merger deal when his wife’s death leaves him alone to take care of their 10-year-old daughter Claudia (Blu Yoshimi). On his daughter’s first school day after the funeral, he promises to wait all day for her at the gate until school is finished. The gesture quickly becomes a habit, much to the concern of family and colleagues, but who nevertheless respect the right of father and daughter to grieve as they choose.

As time passes, Paladini gets to know all the regular passers-by - even his colleagues now hold meetings with him at the designated park bench, with an impending merger revealing corporate backstabbing from several French co-workers (Hippolyte Girardot, Denis Podalydès, Charles Berling and, as an extra bonus, a wonderful Roman Polanski cameo).

A subdued but moving Moretti performance, combined with the star power of Isabella Ferrari (whose character shares a much-discussed sex scene with Paladini) and gentle humour from the script (also penned by Moretti) lends a welcome lightness of tone to a very serious topic. If you have loved and lost, you’ll know exactly where this is coming from.
105 mins. Released in the Netherlands 28 August.
James Drew