GENNARO AND CIRO

As a general rule with television shows, there comes a decisive point where the viewer must choose between short-term and long-term commitment. Typically at this crucial juncture, the central characters will either take up residence in your heart, their fates unfolding before your eyes, or be swiftly and unceremoniously evicted like dirty squatters. Watching Gomorrah for the first time, I find myself overwhelmingly experiencing the former—so much so that I’m increasingly unable to distinguish protagonists Gennaro and Ciro from my own family members.

Adding to this immersion is a tangible sense of having lived in Naples vicariously through my television screen for the past few weeks. At this point, I almost consider myself as much a member of the Camorra mafia as anyone from that place. Certainly, the Goethe quote, "See Naples and die," has never seemed more fitting, as death is a constant presence in this operatic show, where territories are contested more viciously than a Napoli versus Roma derby.

It’s also impossible not to be drawn to the handsome Ciro (played by Marco D’Amore), who resembles a cross between Adonis and Pep Guardiola. His bronze skin alone seems to dictate the show’s lighting, reflecting the unique sunlight of Naples. So much unfolds behind Ciro's sorrowful eyes that you could drown in the tortured depths of his soul without a single word being spoken.

Gennaro (played by the Mohawk-haired Salvatore Esposito), who bears more resemblance to Bowser from Mario World than anything else, is the earth to Ciro’s air—his fate tied to his rival and street brother as intrinsically as that of Romeo and Juliet. One man is easy to read where the other is inherently mysterious. These two characters are perfectly delineated throughout the show in their physicality and how they conduct themselves when it comes to carrying out decisive (often dire) actions. No doubt this explains what makes the show so utterly compelling: these two Neapolitan rivals, unable to move forward without one another, even when it’s clearly in their best interests to have nothing to do with each other, due to the sheer bloodshed their unholy karmic alliance leaves in its wake.

Not since Vic Mackey in The Shield have I felt so compelled by the rollercoaster human drama of a character as I have with Gennaro and Ciro. Like him, they are driven by the delusional belief that they can find redemption in their real-world living hells, even as they remain steeped in increasing sin and irredeemable violence.

In addition to these impressively strong central characters, the dark ambient, industrial, and synth-driven soundtrack of Gomorrah acts like a Greek chorus, guiding the viewer from one scene to the next, similar to Wagnerian leitmotifs. Certain musical cues signal the cyclical climax of action—much like a gangster Groundhog Day—constantly reminding you that in a world so deeply entrenched in inevitable tragedy, there can never be a happy ending.