Gomorrah

Aired on Sky Atlantic in Autumn 2014, Gomorrah focuses on organised crime within Naples. Based on the film and book of the same name, it follows Genny Savastano as he attempts to retain the dignity of his family name after his Father’s (Don Pietro) shock incarceration, and the implications within the opposing neighbourhoods and factions.

Naturally, comparisons will be made between this and The Sopranos. Although based in New Jersey, the Italian links are prominent, and as with all depictions of the Mafia within the media, it was about the fight for power in the family hierarchy.

Gomorrah has a lot going against it. In a world where The Sopranos rules the roost in terms of televisual organised crime, Gomorrah is broadcast in pure Italian, and although the subtitles help, a lot of people will have been put off the idea of having to pay more attention than they’d like in order to actually understand what’s happening, let alone attempting to further piece together all the other aspects of the show. Elements such as lighting, location, mis en scene and framing of shots are all extremely important in television programmes of this nature, and that is one disadvantage from the get go, for any non-Italian speakers.

Perhaps the show’s biggest problem, for me, is that it seems to treat its first series as one big narrative, rather than simply the beginning of an extended narrative. Perhaps it’s because there was a danger of Sky Italia not guaranteeing a second series (that second series is being filmed as we speak…) and so the writers felt a pressure to end things on a tense but leading finish. The Sopranos was a HBO show, on premium cable, which meant there was very little reliance on ratings to ensure that follow-up seasons happened. As such, although series 1 of Gomorrah delivers on a lot of its early promises, narratively speaking, there isn’t a great deal of character development (beyond, arguably Genny’s transformation), and there isn’t a single character you’d actually root, as opposed to The Sopranos where Tony, the lead, is the epitome of the anti-hero, a man who kills, sleeps around and treats most others like human garbage, yet most of the audience still loves him.

The wonderful thing about premium cable in the United States is that a first season doesn’t need to be a smash hit in order for more seasons to be ordered. DVD sales account for a lot when it comes to the success and financial reward of HBO shows, and obviously other elements of the shows are allowed to be relaxed, owing to its age classifications.

It’s hard to properly talk about Gomorrah without spoiling its narrative, much like any show, so it’s best that I leave it as a mere summary. The major consideration for anyone unsure as to the merits herein, is that every single person in this fictional universe, is cold-blooded. That isn’t something you could say about its Western counterpart, a show where Tony’s sidekicks provided some much needed colour and humour. Gomorrah is bleak, and it presents Naples as a grim, dark, murky place to live, work and operate. It’s an unapologetically terrifying, and that will appeal to many.

Just Before I Go

Courteney Cox's directorial debut (and, may I suggest, hopefully her last) is a bizarre mixture of frat-boy 'humour' and well-meaning introspection.

Seann William Scott stars as 41 year old Ted, a pet supply store manager, who decides to postpone committing suicide so that he can visit his hometown one last time, and provide closure on the people he grew up with.

As you'd imagine, there is a romantic story arc involved. Ted, upon tracking down the teacher who used to torment and bully him, discovers that not only is that same teacher now deaf and oblivious to his 'revenge' rant, but her granddaughter is a rather attractive young lady who he begins to take a shine towards.

That is merely one aspect of the narrative, and it's surprisingly low-key, and handled rather well. The rest of the film is where it all falls apart.

Garrett Dillahunt (of Justified fame, and many other things) plays Ted's brother, Lucky, with whom he stays for the duration of the film. Through him, we are introduced to his wife, Kathleen, who through clear frustration at the state of her marriage, demonstrates what we're later reliably informed is commonly performed for visiting men, by way of 'sleepwalking masturbation'. This is basically the tip of the iceberg, but aptly sums up what is wrong with the film. Although there is clearly trouble within that marriage, the way Kathleen is presented is crass, inappropriate and just the most unsubtle way of presenting what is actually a very common, and quite serious issue for many.

On a par with Ted's own suicidal intentions, is the story of Ted's nephew, Zeke (played by Kyle Gallner) who is also suffering. Owing to social pressures, especially from his friends at school and fearing the reaction of a staunchly 'macho' father, he is unable to reveal to anyone that he is gay. As a result of this, and also to cover his own insecurities, he bullies his boyfriend Romeo, who himself is openly gay.

The way the film addresses the highly sensitive nature of suicide and homosexuality is, at times, highly commendable, in so far as the writing successfully highlights how torturous both topics can be for those who live them on a daily basis. However, there are interactions later on in the film which make you question the agenda of those involved in the making of the film.

One scene in particular has Ted pouring his heart out about his own experiences, revealing how much pain and confusion he's going through, all the while the camera frames it so the audience is treated to a boner gag, helpfully sending up the fact that Lucky and his partner from work - he's a cop - are either fucking like bunnies, or really want to. The imagery of the clearly-upset Ted sitting at the table, with a visual sex gag juxtaposed within the same shot, is analogous to the whole film, and sadly sums up the film's inability to sensitively or maturely tackle any of the issues it so brazenly highlights.

It's a mystery as to how a film so bipolar in concept, was penned, but it's an absolute shambles that it was actually made and distributed to audiences around the world, given how it provides so much exposure to these real life, genuine problems, and then shoves equal measure of farce and belligerence right back.

Mad Men Finale

For many, Mad Men will go down in history as being one of the finest dramas on television.

Without doubt, it accomplished something few others quite managed. It somehow combined rich, complex characters, exquisite writing and coherent narratives without ever falling into the trap of needing to portray any real physical angst or violence. It is arguably one of the tamest TV dramas of the modern era, and that it was able to harness such poetic prowess without ever 'resorting' to violence in order to appease premium cable viewers, is perhaps its most impressive feat.

The series centred around the life of Don Draper, a fictional creative director at Sterling Cooper Advertising Agency, in the 1960s. Don is a heavy drinker, a man who doesn't quite understand the meaning of fidelity, and as it turns out, was a con man, having assumed the identity of 'Draper' - a Lieutenant who was killed in front of him during the Korean War - previously known as Dick Whitman.

As it happens, all you really needed to know about Don was that he was a man whose morals were up in the air at the best of times. Constantly sleeping around, always looking at the most superficial of perspectives in life, and never quite cherishing what life was supposedly really about.

The point of this entry is to send Mad Men off in fashion.

As alluded to above, it's a show that, for many, was in the higher echelons of television drama. It was praised for its writing, and although that may in fact be the bone of the contention when it came to its eventual climax, that didn't really negate its impact on cable television, nor indeed on television as a whole.

Naturally I'm not intelligent enough or indeed sufficiently well-versed in television history to give Mad Men the analysis or fanfare that it deserves, but I will address the show's ending.

Season 7 essentially portrayed to the audience what we knew was going to happen all along. Don Draper's life caught up with him. His wife was suffering from cancer, and was going to die within days, weeks or mere months. His daughter, Sally, was growing into a woman who was able to take care of herself, despite displaying traits and characteristics to the contrary, and Don's work life was dissipating. He had ditched his belongings - significant in itself for someone who put so much onus on possessions, and buying the American Dream - and was making his way to a different life. One that removed all emphasis on money, fakeness and superficial flings.

An episode or two before its actual finale, the audience was treated to a brief scene that, for many, would have been the perfect moment on which to end Mad Men as a story. We saw Don give away his car to a younger man - for some, a symbol of passing on his legacy to a pseudo protegé, a man who had earlier tried to actually con him - and sit on a bench, waiting for a bus. To where? No one really cared, as the image itself spoke volumes.

Mad Men's actual ending, however, was more divisive, and saw Don enter a retreat of sorts. Removed of all possessions, and distractions, he comes to envisagea, and supposedly pen, the world-famous "I'd like to give the world a Coke" advert.

For many fans, this felt like a bit of a letdown, as it seemed like Don was finally entering a new journey. Of self discovery, rationale, a clear mind, and above all, a place where he could leave behind the notion of selling commodities to others, let alone himself. However, for many others, it was seen as the perfect ending for a man who had spent an entire career selling the false ideals to the masses, making himself stinking rich in the process.