It’s Rome in the 1970s and criminals operate in small groups called batteries, performing low-level thuggery. They’re tolerated by the police and are content to commit minor crimes and only reoffend when the cash runs out. All it takes is for one ambitious battery leader to break this pattern, and Rome’s criminal underworld changes violently for the worse.
Romanzo Criminale translates as “crime novel”, and it’s a suitably no-nonsense name for this brutal 2008 Italian show that was a huge hit in its homeland. In many ways, the sprawling 22-episode series is like an unputdownable novel. Fitting, as it’s based on a bestselling book by Giancarlo De Cataldo, a judge who used his insider knowledge to expose the links between the establishment and the street. De Cataldo was inspired by the real-life gang Banda della Magliana, which ruled and terrified Rome for over a decade from 1977. Their story has already spawned a 2005 Italian movie of the same name, but the TV show allows us to see the characters become monsters incrementally.
Libanese (played by Francesco Montanari) is a brutish, quick-tempered crook eager to create his own empire. His gang teams up with another, led by the ostensibly more civilised Freddo (Vinicio Marchioni) and they swiftly graduate from muggings and burglaries to gun-running, assassinations and heading up Rome’s extremely lucrative heroin and cocaine trade. They dispose of the opposition ruthlessly: rival dealers are killed, savagely beaten, and urinated on.
Only one cop, Sciajola (Marco Bocci) is on to them from the start, piecing together tenuous clues such as distinctive cigarette stubs found at seemingly unconnected crime scenes. But he’s sidelined by his colleagues for years; the notion of a crime supergroup is seen as laughable by the state. This allows Libanese’s gang to grow more powerful: by the time the powers-that-be even acknowledge their existence, it’s almost too late. A brothel run by Libanese allows secret service agents to secretly photograph the high-level clientele, gathering blackmail evidence against leading government figures.
Fortunately for the feds, the gang is slowly tearing itself apart. Infighting and trouble with their rivals – not to mention the attention of secret service – all whittle down their numbers. Freddo steals hisyounger brother’s girlfriend, while Libanese’s right-hand man, Dandi, shares his prostitute lover with Sciajola. The characters are fully explored, their home lives as essential as their illegal escapades.
As the years pass, the shirt collars and trouser legs get narrower, and Chic and Sylvester give way to Devo and Joy Division. There is glamour thanks to the groovy Italian 80s decor, but the show never glorifies the criminal life – pretty much everyone ends up dead or in prison after a life of paranoia and unchecked anger. There’s little to envy.
The cast is exceptional. They certainly look the part – Montanari in particular is blessed with features that even in repose make him look like he’s spoiling for a fight. It’s refreshingly realistic, too, relying on handheld cameras and gritty locations rather than sets. The visuals are given a grainy, saturated sheen, aping the look of Italian movies from the period. And as it is filmed in Italy, it’s impossible for a camera to point anywhere without catching some stunning scenery or interesting architecture.
Romanzo Criminale is fast-paced, violent, and full of swagger. Something that’s largely absent in the more recognisable international crime hits such as The Bridge and Trapped.
