Think about this for a moment: The Godfather is now 43 years old, and Martin Scorsese's Goodfellas is 25. Mob films have been cribbing from those two for years, and at this point it's hard to figure what the genre has left to say. Maybe there's only so many stories of old world machismo and family loyalty to be told, but Francesco Munzi's Black Souls spins an elegant yet intense tragedy about the unexpected turns violence can take for those who live a life of bloodshed.
Not that Black Souls is especially violent, but it never really needs to be. The threat of inevitable conflict looms in the murky, crime-ridden Italian city of Africo, the power base of the Calibrian 'Ndrangheta. It's here that author Gioacchino Criaco based his novel, Anime Nere, drawing from his own personal experiences in the region, and there's a truthfulness as it explores the darkness of the criminal Carbone brothers. Hot-headed Luigi (Maro Leonardi) is the Sonny Corleone of the bunch; he's aggressive and cocky, always looking for the next big score or chance to prove his muscle. After a big drug deal in Amsterdam he heads back home to Milan where his brother Rocco (Peppino Mazzotta) keeps everything in line. The businessman of the family, Rocco steers clear of violence whenever necessary, but knows it is sometimes an effective negotiating tool. Way up in the picturesque, rocky mountains of Aspromonte is eldest brother Luciano (Fabrizio Ferracane), who wants nothing to do with the mafia live, preferring to live in relative peace as a goat farmer. However, there's a generational, ideological divide between Luciano and his quick-tempered son Leo (Giuseppe Fumo), who wants nothing to do with farming. He prefers the glamour, the money, and the women he thinks the criminal life can provide. Everywhere he goes trouble soon follows, and after a vengeful act he sets off a blood feud that engulfs the entire family.
So you've got an entire family of gangsters with an ideological divide, and gangsters aren't exactly known for their fine communicative skills. Nebulous things such as "honor" and "loyalty" are just the thin scab covering up old wounds of deep animosity, and used willingly as the excuse for murder. When blood is spilled it happens not for shock value, which has the effect of making it more shocking. A lamb is casually slaughtered for lunch; a boy is just as casually shot in the back of the head. Death is just another part of life for people such as this, and part of what Munzi gets across so well is how that mindset can devastate families and entire communities.
While comparisons to Matteo Garrone's sprawling, award-winning Gamorrah will surely follow, Black Souls has a much simpler yet no-less effective story to tell. While Munzi treads on the genre's familiar ground, including the dismissive treatment towards women (one character might as well have been named Kay Corleone), he gets the most out of the material with an unprecedented level of gritty realism. That extends to the impressive ensemble, with Farracane having the most complicated role as Luciano, who helplessly watches as his son slips into the criminal lifestyle he's been sheltered from. As his situation grows more desperate, and the vendetta becomes more personal, Black Souls emphatically makes its point. Violence is a poison, spreading and corrupting everything, leaving nothing but darkness in its wake.
Rating: 3.5 out of 5
