I am curious to know more about the childhood and upbringing of the influential leaders of the mafia organization. Especially the important ones that significantly transformed and affected the organization. I think whoever was able to integrate politics with mafia activities was a genius leader. Prior to reading the text, I didn’t really see how the mafia was involved politically. But now I can understand how the mafia and politicians can mutually benefit from each other. I wonder if the mafia leaders had the foresight themselves and came up with ideas such as infiltrating the sulfur mining industry, or if the political figures gave them tips to seize control. I am also curious as to how the cruel stories of the mafia came to be, since they began as an organization to protect landowners’ properties from the government. Was the brutality of the mafia only towards government agents, or to local and normal people as well? Did the local people ever want to revolt against the mafia too, since the mafia also collected fees for protection (it feels like a different form of exhorting money like the government with their high taxes)?
I also had a question about the fisiognomica that we learned about in class on Monday. Was the difference in skull shape between delinquents and “normal” people a real scientific finding, or something made up to make the people from Sicily seem more mysterious?
After Italy unified, its politics became a tangled mess—kind of like Palermo’s alleyways. The Right, a coalition of northern landowners, and the Left, backed by southern Sicily, were constantly at odds. The mafia was deeply a part of the chaos. Politicians relied on mafia bosses to control votes, and in turn, the mafia gained power.
In 1875, a Sicilian politician exposed how the government itself had worked with the mafia to stay in control. Parliament turned into a shouting match, and the Right’s “tough on crime” image fell apart. It was interesting to read about how power, corruption, and crime became part of the system—setting the stage for decades of mafia influence in Italy.
An intriguing parallel between Casa Nostra and The Godfather Part III lies in the role of women in mafia affairs. The Godfather Part III highlights pivotal female characters, such as Michael Corleone’s daughter, Mary, and his estranged wife, Kay. Michael’s struggle in the film centers on redeeming himself and his organization’s sins. He seeks to legitimize the Corleone legacy by shifting investments from criminal enterprises to a real estate company linked to the Catholic Church. This effort represents his desire for atonement while ensuring his family’s future. However, Kay challenges him, emphasizing how his choices have profoundly affected their children, the most valuable part of his legacy. Despite Michael’s efforts, the film’s climax delivers his ultimate punishment: the death of Mary, who is killed in an attempt on Michael’s life. Her death underscores the cost of his criminal past, reflecting the tragic consequences of his actions. In Casa Nostra, women similarly play a significant role in mafia dynamics. For instance, on page 29, the text describes the murder of women and children as dishonorable unless deemed necessary for survival. Mary’s death, while accidental, blurs this line, highlighting how innocents are often collateral damage in mafia conflicts, as seen with the death of Carollo. Although women were excluded from formal mafia membership, Casa Nostra notes their influence and prestige, often serving in supportive roles to their partners (pg. 31). Additionally, mafiosi frequently married sisters or daughters of other men of honor to strengthen alliances (pg. 31). This dynamic is reflected in the film through Mary’s romantic relationship with Vincent, who becomes the Corleone family’s future leader. Demonstrating the nuanced and powerful (and unofficial) role of women in the mafia, the film and the book highlight the often dangerous consequences of these women in their line of service as their partners’ moral compasses.
As the mafia expanded from its 1860s roots, it turned its focus toward new horizons: the United States of America. Throughout the first decade of the 20th century, hundreds of thousands of Sicilians streamed into the states and adapted organized crime to the urban nature of the states. As these new American-based sects of the Mafia matured, they became distinct from their Sicilian counterparts. This is expressed in the transition from protection rackets to profit generation during prohibition. In response, US law became more adept at responding to the organized crime presented by the Mafia, to which the Mafia responded by developing social and legal sectors.
Overall, I believe that the reading gave excellent insight into the story of the Mafia in America–how what began as a culturally Sicilian organization metamorphosed into an Italian-American one that blended traditions from both.
A few questions I have regarding the reading and Movie:
What role did the cinema (as well as public opinion) play in the development of the myth of the Mafia and how did these notions impact the behavior of these organizations?
How did these perceptions impact the expansion of the police state in America, in particular their capabilities in combating organized crime?
In what ways does The Godfather Part 2 continue the myth that the Mafia was solely a Sicilian import as opposed to a multicultural phenomenon?
One thing that I noticed between the two silent films was the caricaturization of the Italian and mafia characters. While some of the over-exaggeration of the characters is likely due to the nature of the silent film and need to convey the mafia associations without words, it also plays to the stereotypes recognized even in official and academic dictionaries, such as the Report of the Immigration Commission: Dictionary of Races of Peoples (1911). In reading the descriptions of the Italian and, more specifically, Sicilian immigrants, there was a large emphasis on the physical appearance of the defined race, including not just skin tone and dominant features, but also head shape, stature, and personality. This reading, paired with the prior discussion of physiognomy, illustrated how the biases against Sicilians were not just public perception, but also furthered by academics and government officials. The silent film Poor Little Peppina (1916) demonstrates these prejudices by portraying Peppina and her parents, who are of American heritage, as innocent victims of the mafia, while the Italians are shown as mafia members, or at least complicit with mafia business. Both films and readings, too, focus on the illiteracy of the Italian and Sicilian people, with the films showing poorly written letters by the Italian peasants and mafia members and the dictionary stating, “It is important to note that Italy is one of the most illiterate countries of Europe.” These examples illustrate the stereotype that the Italian immigrants were of a backwards upbringing, with a propensity for crime.
An interesting connection I saw in both short films, that was also mentioned in John Dickie’s books, is the relationship between the Mafia and alcohol. In both short films, as a sign of respect, partnership, and community, those within the mafia would drink together. However, the drinking went beyond building trust and community and became a way to grow their business. Whenever members of the Mafia were discussing past actions, creating a plan for the future, or celebrating a victory, alcohol was always shared. In both short films, it was intentional by the directors to include the use of alcohol. I also say a connection between the alcohol use and the bigger picture of the Mafia. As John Dickie said in his book, the prohibition within the United States led to the rise and power of the American Mafia. Prohibition created a huge demand for alcohol and the mafia exploited this by specializing in importing and distributing alcohol, eventually allowing the mafia to make huge profits. There is a strong link in Hollywood of the Mafia public perception between alcohol and crime shaping public perception of what the Mafia is and how they act. This reinforces the ideas of respect, crime, and a fast and dangerous life that the public viewed the Mafia as.
It is apparent that The Black Hand and the Mafia, though related, are far from the same entity despite some fundamental overlap as part of the world of crime. Considering the historical context of the growing prominence and influence of eugenics in America, I’m interested in knowing the complexity of the effects of the fear-mongering produced by both entities, especially within the context of race relations and eugenics. The films themselves serve as a reminder that Italians were on both ends of crime as both perpetrators and victims. Given the context expressed in “Report of the Immigration Commission: Dictionary of Races of Peoples” where the report portrayed Northern Italians as “ideal” immigrants while stereotyping Southern Italians as prone to criminality, poverty, and lacking education- I wonder if these prejudicial distinctions created, fueled, or added to internal tensions within Italian-American communities, or were these primarily external stereotypes that had little impact on how Italian immigrants viewed themselves and each other?
I have to admit, the two silent films we watched this week were probably the first I’ve seen in years. Still, I thoroughly enjoyed them and gained a newfound appreciation for how far mafia movies have evolved over time. Even with the gaps in technology and artistry compared to modern films, the foundational themes of family, violence, and honor were already present, clearly paving the way for the genre’s development. It is fair to say that Franzoli Soldo walked so Michael Corleone could run.
The accompanying readings were equally thought-provoking, especially regarding the perspectives on race during that time. It’s hard to imagine books or guides like those being written today—they would undoubtedly face immediate backlash, and rightfully so. However, they were valuable for understanding the historical and cultural factors that contributed to Sicily’s “culture of violence.” It’s a common pattern in regions under constant conquest: violence and combat often become ingrained as cultural virtues. A contemporary example can be seen in the Republic of Dagestan in Russia, where a similar history has shaped them into a mixed-martial arts and Olympic wrestling powerhouse.
I found a few points interesting in the assignments due for the 27th.
1. Immigration: First were the statistics from the Immigration Commission Report showing a high percentage of Italian immigration to the US came from Southern Italians and especially Sicilians. Though many of the southern immigrants came from rural areas, they landed in the urban area of New York and stayed there. Could this be to the sheer number of their people who came through New York creating a natural support system? Could it also be that that rural US at the time was made up of many small farms/farmers and they didn’t have the money to buy their own plots of lands to be agrarian as they were in their home country (vs working for large landowners back home). It was also interesting how they profiled the southern Italians and Sicilians as being “excitable, superstitious, and vengeful” with “little adaptability to highly organized society” and “their determination not to testify in court against an enemy (Omerta) but to insist on settling their wrongs after the manner of the vendetta.”
2. “Black Hand” & “Peppina”: Both movies focus on a kidnapping as a vendetta or show of force: The “Black Hand” coming through a protection racket – pay up $1000 (based on the prices shown for the meats in the shop, it would be about $35-40K in today’s dollars) or we take your daughter and blow up your shop; “Little Peppina” the kidnapping is instigated as a vendetta after the wealthy Mr. Torrens fires Soldo (a local mafia chief undercover in the Torrens home) when he is ratted out by Pietro (later killed by Soldo) for drinking the Torrens’ wine. This has a longer story over 18 years that has Peppina reunited with her family here in the US.
I found the descriptions of Northern and Southern Italy in the Dictionary on Races of People incredibly insightful, especially regarding how the South of Italy was perceived. The North was deemed “cool” and “capable of great progress,” while the South was seen as “revengeful,” “vivid in imagination,” and “highly imaginative.” It seemed to take characteristics that are true about the places (the North experienced somewhat political stability and there was little known about the South aside from stories to the Northerners) and build those into descriptions about what was true in these places (the North is a place of stability and level-headed people, while the South is full of unstable, vengeful people).
This made me wonder how the South perceived the North and if this dictionary was cultivated by a Southern author, whether the language used to describe the regions would be very different. Would the North be described as “uptight” or “elite?” And would writers in the South associate themselves with the mafia and the connotations of revenge that come with it? Or would their description of the Southern region be more bucolic?
To start off with the articles we had to read for this week, I thought it was really interesting how clear the divide was between the Southern and Northern Italians in the Dictionary of Races or Peoples book. They described how different they were in language, physique and character. This ties back to what we discussed previously in class when discussing Cavalleria Rusticana and how Southern Italy seemed like a vastly different world to Northern Italy. This shows that it was not only to the Italians themselves that there was a clear divide, but also to the Americans analyzing who immigrated and from where. Of the differences between the Italians I was particularly interested in the description of character. For example, they described South Italians as “excitable, impulsive, highly imaginative, [and] impracticable,” while Northern Italians were said to be “cool, deliberate, patient, practical, and as capable of great progress in the political and social organization of modern civilization.” All of the southern characteristics align with what I would believe the Mafia would have. This went a step further in the portion specifically about Sicily when they described them as vengeful.
In the short films, one thing I noticed was the difference between these films and Mafia movies today. In the films there was not the great depiction of violence that is what is so common in the current Mafia movies. In both short films the kidnapping was rather tame and only in the film titled Poor Little Peppina was there even a death (which was not vulgar at all). It shows the change in Popular Culture from the early 20th century until now. I am interested in getting a more in depth explanation about how the social standards and expectations of the time affect the depiction of the Mafia.
To what extent did the mafia’s presence in Southern Italy encourage immigration to the United States? The Dictionary of Races of Peoples looked at northern and southern Italy as different races due to differing language, physique, and character. Furthermore, Niceforo described Southern Italians as “excitable, impulsive, highly imaginative, and impracticable” (82). Niceforo also notes “all crimes and especially violent crimes, are several times more numerous among the South than the North Italians” (83). Though indirect, these characteristics allude to the mafia’s presence in Southern Italy. As learned in class, the mafia became intertwined with Italy’s agricultural industry monopolizing the land ownership (as we saw from Galati’s personal experiences when refusing to rent his land to the mafia). The Dictionary of Races of Peoples described how “most of the Italian immigration to the United States is recruited from the farming and the laboring classes of Italy” (82). In Poor Little Peppina, Lois was kidnapped from a wealthy family and forced into a farming family. Forced into an arranged marriage given the monetary benefit, she fled. Though the short film’s plot wasn’t primarily focused on immigration, it portrayed how the mafia’s control was intertwined with money, a prime incentive for immigration. The mafia targeted Mr. Torrens and kidnapped Lois to use as leverage for money. Furthermore, Lois’ adoptive family worked in the agricultural industry and they were poor, signifying the reality that the mafia had control over the farming industry and made the largest profit from the industry in comparison to farm workers. This then explains the dictionary’s indication that Italian immigration to the U.S. was larger than any other race, overall causing me to question the correlation between immigration out of Italy and the Mafia’s presence. Finally, I question if the mafia’s presence in Italy is still influencing immigration nowadays.
I wonder how the Italian mafia’s move to the United States shaped perceptions of Italian-American communities in urban areas. In the short film The Black Hand, the portrayal of criminals seemed to reinforce stereotypes of Italian Americans as dangerous, tied to organized crime, and resistant to fitting into American society. Similarly, the reading from The Passing of the Great Race, which explores historical conquests and the resulting shifts in language and racial identity, emphasizes how immigrant groups were often viewed as threats to the cultural and racial dominance of the Nordic population. This makes me curious whether the portrayal of the mafia in America, especially in films like The Black Hand, exacerbated these stereotypes and further complicated the process of assimilation for Italian-American communities.
Additionally, I’m curious about how the mafia adapted to American society. As discussed in class, a key difference was the shift from rural countrysides to densely populated urban centers. This likely forced the mafia to restructure, moving from local control to more organized systems suited to a competitive urban landscape. Cities also brought new challenges, greater visibility, interactions with other ethnic groups, and stricter law enforcement, which may have sped up their evolution into modern organized crime. This raises the question of whether these adaptations mirrored the broader struggles of Italian-American communities to balance cultural preservation with assimilation in an urbanizing society.
I found the short film, Black Hand, particularly interesting. I have never watched a silent film before so it was interesting to see the differences of how a story is told without the characters speaking in the film. The actors had very big reactions and facial expressions that seemed over-exaggerated to what we would see in current films today. That is most likely because a whole element of storytelling is gone so there needs to be a way to make up for that. In addition, it seemed different to modern films because all of the scenes almost felt like they were a play instead of a movie. The different scenes were all shot at the same camera angle for the entirety of the scene and there was not much variation in the set once the scene was underway. One of my big questions for this is when did switching camera angles become commonplace in cinema, because it did not seem like this was a technique that was used at the time. Additionally I thought it was interesting how the criminals were portrayed. Based on the film they seemed more like amateur criminals compared to the mafia bosses that we see in most mafia films. The criminals were tricked very easily and did not have a big elaborate plan to carry out their crime.
For Jan 29th class: There are intersections between the Public Enemy film and the reading about Synchronizing Race and Sound. I never took note of it previously when watching cinema, but after reading the article, I realized how powerful sound, especially the voice and way of speech, can reinforce stereotypes and ethnic divisions. In the article, Obscura discussed how synchronized sound reinforces existing power structures. This was seen in the movie where Tom and Matt spoke with an accent and their language was filled with uncouth slang. It instantly reinforced their backgrounds of poverty and belonging to the lower class. In contrast, Gwen, who spoke with a clear voice with proper grammar provided the impression of someone who is sophisticated and of higher class. These voiceover choices made by the producer came from common stereotypes stemming from history, only those who are high class could receive a good education, and can act and speak properly. The lower class would not have the resources for a proper education, and thus cannot speak and express themselves as clearly. This is a negative cycle of using stereotypes to familiarize the audience with the characters and having the audience assume things not explicitly shown. But this causes a dissonance when meeting people with accents in reality. I wonder if due to the popularity of mafia newspapers and films, did Italian Americans who had no association with the mafia face judgement and any unfair biased treatment from others?
Alice Maurice’s essay highlights the significance that sound has in film in both cultivating its story and characters and influencing its audience. While Maurice’s piece largely explores how sound can confirm African American stereotypes, this can be applied to Italian Americans as well. Due to “a dependence on popular expectations regarding authenticity, the alignment of internal and external characteristics, and the evidence of the senses”, Hollywood may overexaggerate characteristics of ethnic groups to subscribe to this idea that they are a foreign, separate entity. In The Public Enemy, the tough accents and casual slang speech support the Italian American stereotype that has been promoted in entertainment. The upper-class characters, from the fancy, well-spoken Gwen to the calm, crisp tone of the tailors, are marked by a clearer sound of voice; their speech is slower and more comprehensible than that of the lower-class, criminal Italian Americans. Beyond just the voice, the diegetic sound effects reinforce Maurice’s argument. Harsh, loud bangs, shots, slaps, and more enunciate the violence of the Italian Americans, contributing to the mafia stereotype of vicious, bloody crime. In silent film, it’s harder to convey this raw, even frightening level of violence. Now, however, in 1931, sound could be used to heighten the emotions evoked from the viewers that would manipulate them into believing these stereotypes. One question I had involved the following quote: “fetishization of the “black voice” reveals the way in which the discourses of race and sound were intertwined”. Recent films – even Zootopia whose mafia-mouse imitated Vito Corleone’s voice – prove Italian Americans can be “fetishized” by their accents in modern Hollywood. The question I wondered was whether the heavy Italian American accent would be pushed for in future mafia films or if they would try to combat the stereotypes by stripping characters of the “iconic” accent.
I thought the notes at the beginning and end of The Public Enemy served as interesting and explicit social commentary. The beginning note made it clear that, while the characters were fictional, the environment depicted existed in reality. The note at the end of the film states “the end of Tom Powers is the end of every hoodlum” and identifies the public enemy to be a conceptual problem, rather than an individual, that needs to be addressed by the public. Additionally, the film depicts the implications of Tom’s work on his friend Matt and his family, showing that ultimately Tom and everyone close to him suffers.
The film also seems to distinguish the gangsters through using very exaggerated accents and simplified language for characters such as Tom and Matt. This could be synesthesia–mentioned in Cinema at its Source–where they are playing to a certain image through the use of sound. Cinema at its Source also mentions that while the early talkies were revealing the ‘secret’ voices of actors to the public, there were already particular expectations for what the audience expected “black voices” to sound like. Given that The Public Enemy was made early in the history of talkies, I wonder if the directors were playing to certain public expectations for what gangsters would sound like.
Blog post for Wed 1/29:
In “Cinema at Its Source”: Synchronizing Race and Sound in the Early Talkies, Alice Maurice discusses how race and ethnicity served as constructs that synchronized “image, sound, and meaning” in early cinema. Maurice uses the term “synesthesia” to describe the role of early cinema in the representation and perception of race and draws on two definitions of the term to illustrate this point. One definition reads, “when the hearing of an external sound carries with it, by some arbitrary association of ideas, the seeing of some form or colour.” (pp. 33). This “arbitrary association of ideas” is the route by which early cinema shaped public perception (and stereotypes) of various races and ethnicities. The other definition of synesthesia that Maurice provides is “the ‘production, from a sense-impression of one kind, of an associated mental image of a sense-impression of another kind’” (pp. 32). When sound technology was introduced to cinema, it facilitated the public’s “arbitrary association of ideas” around race by providing and reinforcing a multi-sense (visual and auditory) mental picture of different racial and ethnic groups. Maurice focuses primarily on the role of African American performers and the “black voice” in early talkies. However, the concept of “synesthesia” driving the perception of racial identity in early talkies also extends to other ethnic and social groups.
For instance, early mafia movies played a role in constructing and solidifying the cultural perception of Italian-Americans in the U.S. during the early 20th century. I would argue that this even extends to the creation and public perception of the “mobster” persona. For most people, this cinematic representation was their only exposure to mafiosi and maybe even to Italian-Americans in general. In this way, cinema was not just reflecting societal views, but actively constructed the reality of how people perceived not only mobsters but even Italian identity as a whole. A question I have based on this is: to what extent did cinema actually shape public perception of what the mafia was (I’m not sure if I am overestimating its role), and how has this changed from the early 20th century to now?
I found the reading for this week to be really enlightening—especially concerning how sound can influence sense perception. Alice Maurice brings up the phenomenon of synesthesia, where one sense can lead to the spontaneous production of another sense (one example being people who see colors when listening to different music.) I always thought that this was really interesting in the context of art, however, Maurice applies a racial framework to this concept to illustrate black representation in early films. By embedding new sound technologies with minstrel roles, new perceptions of what authentic black culture was formed in America, fitting a stereotypical and unfaithful representation of race. Additionally, the fetishization of the African American voice resulted in an explosion of popularity for black performers, who were believed to be “ideally suited for the pictures.” After taking media theory last semester, this really reminded me of Marx’s ideas of commodity fetishism, in which people place a mystified sense of value in a commodity, distancing it from the labor which produced it. In the case of African American voices, a person’s likeness and identity is treated as a commodity for profit, distancing the actor or singer who produced the performance from the performance itself. I think that in the case of movies—specifically mafia movies—a similar framework can be applied. The Italian culture which inspired films such as the Black Hand or the Public Enemy is commodified and sold, distancing the original culture from the end product.
The Public Enemy was fascinating because of the nuanced dynamics. Firstly, the role of their mother as a helpless, wholesome older woman who was blind to the terrible actions of her younger son, Tommy, almost reminded me of a child attempting to unite her divorced parents. Jane, Paddy Ryan’s girl, shares some of these characteristics in a much weirder way. She takes advantage of Tommy’s intoxicated state while acting like his mother. I am curious why the filmmakers could not choose between the typical two roles of women in mafia films: mother (or family member) or lover for Jane and what her role even is in the movie?
Mike and Tommy also shared an interesting relationship of a brotherly feud. Mike is a great foil of Tommy, representing honor, nobility, and stereotypical family values. Tommy exemplifies the family values seen in a mafia man: they share how much they care about their families, but their actions prove otherwise. It is not as if mafia men are incapable of loving their families, instead, they reserve most of this loyalty for their chosen family (the mafia itself). Tommy and Paddy shared a father-son like relationship while Tommy and Matt were like brothers.
“Cinema at its Source” was also an enlightening read regarding the role of African Americans in the history of film. I was intrigued by the idea that a white audience would be drawn to the black voice because of a “dependence on popular expectations regarding authenticity, the alignment of internal and external characteristics, and the evidence of the senses” (Maurice 32). This relates to the Foreword/Endnote of film, which states that the film uses stereotypes regarding Italian Americans to highlight their preconceived notions of this “hoodlum” demographic. The film ends with a call to action to solve the problem of Italian Americans. As discussed in last class, African Americans followed by Italian Americans were considered the worst types of immigrants in the United States. Therefore, the film industry engaged in blackface for Black people and created mafia films regarding Italians to hyperbolize the worst ideas of these demographics.
I found the reading for this week to be really enlightening—especially concerning how sound can influence sense perception. Alice Maurice brings up the phenomenon of synesthesia, where one sense can lead to the spontaneous production of another sense (one example being people who see colors when listening to different music.) I always thought that this was really interesting in the context of art, however, Maurice applies a racial framework to this concept to illustrate black representation in early films. By embedding new sound technologies with minstrel roles, new perceptions of what authentic black culture was formed in America, fitting a stereotypical and unfaithful representation of race. Additionally, the fetishization of the African American voice resulted in an explosion of popularity for black performers, who were believed to be “ideally suited for the pictures.” After taking media theory last semester, this really reminded me of Marx’s ideas of commodity fetishism, in which people place a mystified sense of value in a commodity, distancing it from the labor which produced it. In the case of African American voices, a person’s likeness and identity is treated as a commodity for profit, distancing the actor or singer who produced the performance from the performance itself. I think that in the case of movies—specifically mafia movies—a similar framework can be applied. The Italian culture which inspired films such as the Black Hand or the Public Enemy is commodified and sold, distancing the original culture from the end product.
For class on Jan 29th: Initially before reading the piece about Synchronizing Sound and Race, the title reminded me of a class I took last semester that focused on film and the importance of sound and how much it adds to the deeper meanings of a film. Beforehand, I had never really cared to look too deeply, or even hear, how much certain artistic decisions can influence the perspective and opinion of the viewer. Now, after reading and watching the film, I’ve come to understand just how much sound matters. Sound is powerful in the sense that little things such as a voice, and or way of speaking, can play into certain harmful stereotypes. As well as reinforce stereotypes, sound can also be used as a tool to show the clear division between groups of people. We see this play out in the movie when you have certain characters like Matt or Tom who spoke more colloquially and never in proper sentences, and then Gwen who speaks more formally and polished off. The difference in the way these characters speak plays into their class division. The individuals who are in a lower class seem to speak in a way that showcases just how low class they are, they don’t speak formally, or in proper sentences. Meanwhile, the people who are apart of a higher class tend to speak more professionally and clear. This harsh distinction between two types of people created by sound in a film plays into the harmful cycle of racism and socioeconomic discrimination. By making a character in a lower class speak in a way that insinuates they are less than or not as educated as someone in a higher class is harmful and wrong. It’s incredibly important as a filmmaker to understand the significance behind every single choice you make. Little things such as the way you make someone speak or the way they’re dressed plays a big role in how they, and individuals like them outside of the film, are portrayed. My last thought was just how interesting it was in the reading when it was mentioned over and over again how the African American voice was perfect for film and sound. A quote in the reading that stood out to me was, “Movie magazines and trade papers raved about black actors in sound films in ways that kept them framed within stereotypes, racist anecdotes, and familiar characters and story settings” ( 50). African American actors were utilized in a way that kept them hidden behind the camera despite having such a large role in the film, they can be the voice and star of the show but only behind closed doors. This quote highlights how these actors were used and manipulated in ways that kept them in the bounds of being stereotyped and critiqued because of their race. The reading also mentions how a famous African American actor was able to stay famous and popular because he played into the harmful stereotypes that were cast on him. All in all, it was just shocking to see how important African American individuals were to the sound and production of a film yet barely ever received credit, and if they did, it wasn’t always friendly fire.
I read the article first and it caught me by surprise in that I do not usually think of the effects of sound. However, it is an extremely effective tool in amplifying culture stereotypes. Sound was able to use voices and accents to further demonstrate the difference between white characters and non-white characters. In doing this, a racial hierarchy was developed. I wonder if some of the racial discrimination challenges faced during that time were amplified during movies to further the culture industry. I also wonder if there were other ways filmmakers were able to implement race implications before the use of sound in movies. Public Enemy is interesting in the use of violence is extreme to me for its time period. I think smashing the grapefruit into Kitty’s face was the height of this violence. I think the usage of violence in this movie was a tactic used by the culture industry to gain attraction for the film. I see the usage of sound from Maurices sound in the accents of characters and it does heightened racial stereotypes and hierarchies as mentioned in the article.
The Public Enemy (1931) is a classic gangster film, and Tom Powers wouldn’t be half as compelling without sound. His voice is full of aggression making him appear more dangerous than any gunfight of which there are many in the movie. Alice Maurice’s Cinema at Its Source examines how early Hollywood marketed sound through race, often portraying Black voices as the most “authentic” for talkies. Studios played into stereotypes that Black performers were naturally suited for sound, using their voices to legitimize the new technology. This raises an interesting contrast. If Black voices were used to prove sound’s authenticity, what does it mean that gangster films relied on a rough, fast-talking white antihero like Cagney? Cagney’s voice became the blueprint for these types of films. Did the rise of the mafia films depend on sound in the same way Hollywood used race to sell talkies? And how does sound influence our perception of these criminal figures on screen? These questions could start a great discussion on how race, voice, and genre shaped early Hollywood, particularly within this genre.
One thing I noticed while watching The Public Enemy (1931) was the continued narrative of the mafia’s evolution and how organized crime adapted from its Sicilian countryside roots to American urban centers. Unlike the traditional, more “honor-bound” mafia we saw in The Godfather, The Public Enemy focuses on the more sort of opportunistic crime wave that emerged during the prohibition era in the United States, portraying a world where power is taken, not inherited.
I thought one of the more interesting aspects of the film was how it also captured the economic and social opportunity that allowed organized crime, like the mafia, to flourish. In class we talked about the mafia’s origins and the emphasis on its early role in protecting landowners from government interference in Sicily, but in America, the mafia transformed into an enterprise capitalizing on illicit markets. The Public Enemy kind of displays this shift. For example, Tom Powers and Matt Doyle don’t really follow a strict moral code or adhere to a familial structure like the Corleones, but instead exploit the chaotic urban environment of Chicago to build their criminal empire.
This transformation also kind of tied into the reading with Alice Maurice’s article on synchronized sound in early cinema. Maurice highlighted how synchronized dialogue reinforced ethnic stereotypes, and we see this in The Public Enemy. Tom and Matt’s heavy accents, slang-filled speech, and aggressive mannerisms mark them as products of a rough, immigrant-heavy working-class world. Meanwhile, Gwen’s refined speech sets her apart, reinforcing social class distinctions. We haven’t really touched on this in class but the sort of perception or stereotype of Italian Americans as criminals was shaped in part by films like this one.
Both the film “Public Enemy” and the document “Cinema at Its Source” have reminded me in many ways of our discussions this week on the evolution of the Mafia and its portrayal in movies. More specifically, they both discuss the question of identity and how cinematic choices can affect its portrayal.
The “Public Enemy” uses violence and loud sounds to shape its depiction of the criminal lifestyle. James Cagney’s Tom Powers is not just a criminal but a product of his environment, with his Irish identity shaping his rise and fall. Also, the film’s use of sound—gunfire, fast-paced dialogue, and moments of chilling silence—heightens the sense of drama. It glorifies crime and plays up the baroqueness of crime for the film. It also plays into the trope we have discussed as the Mafia figure as both an outsider and an anti-hero, setting a precedent for later mob films.
Meanwhile, Cinema at Its Source explores how early sound films constructed identity through race rather than crime. While gangster films used ethnicity to define organized crime, Black performers were positioned as proof of sound technology’s success. Movies like Hallelujah! (1929) marketed African American voices as inherently suited for sound, reinforcing racialized ideas while limiting their narrative roles.
Both works reveal how Hollywood used cinematic techniques to reinforce certain identities—glorifying the Mafia as a cultural fixture while reducing Black performers to tools of the medium. In both cases, film was not just entertainment but a means of shaping who was heard and how they were seen.
Reading the assigned article after watching “The Public Enemy” gave a lot of context to why the movie had such a large influence on Hollywood, as it was released just four years after the first movie length film with sound. The article focuses on race, specifically the “black voice” that supposedly enhanced the authenticity of the film for viewers. I find it interesting that “The Public Enemy” also took advantage of the new sound technology to draw audiences into a mafia film with “authentic” sounds from a violent world. Audiences have always been interested in the world of crime, especially the mafia. I’ve always held the opinion that violent films have been attractive to audiences because they’re the closest that many people will ever get to that kind of extreme violence. The movie really used that fascination along with the new sound tech to create a film on a topic that many people were drawn to, and then enhanced it with “authentic” violent sounds that brought the film to life more than any mafia story before it. With all of that in mind, I’m not surprised that this movie was as it successful as it was.
As illustrated by Alice Maurice, a common strategy during the early sound era was using black artists to promote sound films and also to sell black performers through the medium of sound cinema. Filmmakers would leverage black performers in order to garner larger, and predominantly white, audiences. This strategy was not only opportunistic, but also rooted in racial biases surrounding sound, race, and on-screen representation. I found the topic of synesthesia that was discussed in the reading particularly interesting: Maurice used the concept to interpret how the link between “black voices” and sound were rooted in racial stereotypes. Further, Maurice discusses how “the black voice” could be almost like a ‘remedy’ for new cinema’s technical difficulties, emphasizing this idea of synesthesia in the perception of race. The reading argues that the introduction of synchronized sound highlighted existing power structures. Throughout William Wellman’s 1931 film The Public Enemy, I paid close attention to the use of sounds and voices and found that it was often used to establish hierarchy: Tom and Matt’s accent and choice of words implied their lack of wealth, whereas Gwen’s grammar and accent implied her belonging to the upper class. As discussed by Maurice, the Hollywood film industry perpetuated existing stereotypes, which can be seen in The Public Enemies’ use of stereotypes associated with poorer education and the lower class through sound.
In addition, I paid close attention to the use of montage in Public Enemy, and thought of montages as “the collision of independent shots” that are essential to the story. The montage depicting the gang breaking out in war reflected this – cutting from Gwen to newspaper articles, horse stables, and ultimately a gang fight, painted a vivid story.
How does the introduction of synchronized sound perpetuate pre existing racial prejudices? How did films mask these racial stereotypes?
What are the other ways in which montages are utilized in and essential to the film’s plot?
For class on 1/29:
The article by Alice Maurice explains how introducing sound technology into cinema resulted in new representations and reinforcements of races, cultures, etc. The use of sound through voices/accents and music especially supported this idea, and the article looked at this through the lens of race often. These ideas were so important to understand when watching The Public Enemy. In this film, we see how sound is able to lead to characterization by the way characters speak. Differing accents, the use of slang, and the clarity of language were all sounds used in this film to create a structure of power between the lower class in poverty and the upper class. These sounds are used as differentiating factors to distinguish the upstanding citizen from the stereotypical ethnic gang member. The Public Enemy also uses music very well to continue this theme and build suspense, which is an element clearly seen in future mafia movies. Slang, heavy accents, and super quick speaking from the stereotypical characters also certainly build a foundation for the mafia movies of the future. We have already seen these elements when watching movies like The Godfather (2,3), and it is really interesting to understand how this came to be in cinema.
Questions: How well did these elements of cinema reflect the societal views of the time of groups such as Italian Americans? Do you think that the sense of sound can oftentimes be the most important to address in cinema – even outside of the genre we are exploring?
Wallace McCutcheon’s Black Hand: The Story of a Recent Occurrence in the Italian Quarters of New York (1906) reflects early 20th-century American anxieties surrounding Italian immigration. The film reinforces prevailing narratives that linked Italian immigrants—particularly Sicilians—to organized crime, aligning with Madison Grant’s The Passing of the Great Race (1916) and the Report of the Immigration Commission: Dictionary of Races of Peoples (1911). Both texts framed Southern Italians as inherently violent and resistant to assimilation, contributing to the era’s broader racial hierarchies.
Grant warns of Southern Europeans “infiltrating” American society, associating them with crime and moral corruption. Similarly, the Report of the Immigration Commission portrays Southern Italians as predisposed to criminal behavior, citing a history of “secret societies and vendettas.” Black Hand visually reinforces these fears, depicting Italian neighborhoods as lawless spaces and positioning Italian immigrants as an internal threat rather than part of American society.
By racializing crime, Black Hand legitimizes nativist concerns and reinforces the belief that certain ethnic groups—especially Southern Italians—were unassimilable. The film played a role in shaping public perception, solidifying racialized fears that fueled early 20th-century anti-immigrant sentiment and restrictive immigration policies.
How does the connection between Black Hand and early 20th-century racial discourse illustrate the intersection of entertainment, politics, and xenophobia in American culture? In what ways did such portrayals contribute to the justification of exclusionary policies, particularly restrictive immigration laws?
The discussion of sound as a means to portray and exacerbate stereotypes in the article about Synchronizing Race and Sound provided insight into how various technologies throughout cinema’s history have been used to reinforce the viewer’s preconceived notions. In the commodification of Black voices at the advent of synchronized sound, Hollywood found itself in a positive feedback loop of racial essentialism. Additionally, the article touches on the concept of synesthesia. This term broadly refers to blending sensory experiences and how that relates to linking sound to racial, class, and other socioeconomic stereotypes in film. The Public Enemy film provides an excellent case study for this, as Tom and Matt exhibit crass, sharp diction along with thick accents and rapid speech to signal to the viewer their lower-class background. This grounds the characters in a gritty, working-class realism that serves to enhance the viewer’s understanding of the film by relating it to stereotypes they already hold while also strengthening them in a broadly destructive way. Something I am curious about is this: how has this use of sound to create caricatures of people groups evolved to where it is today? I
Watching the film The Public Enemy right after watching two short silent films made me realize the extent to which the introduction of sound to film likely contributed to the ideas in the reading from Cinema at its Source. Without the sound component, films would not be able to use voices and accents to perpetuate stereotypes.
In the Public Enemy, we see the use of accents to differentiate class and social status even within a single racial group. Tom’s girlfriend speaks in a softer, “classier” voice, almost like a Daisy Buchanan, whereas Tom’s mother’s voice sounds rougher and quite distinct from Gwen’s, indicating that she may be from a lower social class. It’s interesting how Gwen’s voice clearly sounds different from the other characters’ because that distinction solidifies the idea that Gwen seems to represent Tom’s rise in power and social/criminal status. Reading the text for today, I started to consider how the racialized tropes conveyed through sound in early cinema persist in modern Hollywood and in the music industry today?
Wellman’s The Public Enemy is definitely a classic mobster film that I enjoyed as it certainly has its fair share of quirks and brilliant pieces of directing. I particularly found the grapefruit scene very intriguing as I noticed Kitty’s reaction seemed very genuine; I decided to look more into the filming of that exact scene and found that Mae Clarke was not told that this was going to happen, which is a very brilliant piece of directing by Wellman and a technique that I have seen used in other films and shows.
Additionally, it is easy to see connections between The Public Enemy and Synchronizing Race and Sound. I took note of one statement the author made saying, “…color/race promises a particular kind of sound, and that sound, once heard, is supposed to refer back to the color/ race that produced it” (33). This struck me because the parallels in voice and an association with a particular group of people are clear in The Public Enemy, such as with the accents each of the characters have for example. The slight twang in these Irish-American voices has now become associated with a Chicago accent, and I myself can attest to this having grown up in that city. Further, these kinds of connections also apply more broadly to the other films we have discussed in class thus far, mainly The Godfather films. Coppola uses the classic elements of Italian-American culture in his characters to highlight a group that was viewed in a historically negative light upon their immigration from Italy. However, I do wonder how directors in the mob/mafia genre specifically “walk the line” between culture and stereotypes in their films (for example, the way we discussed how Coppola became the ‘betrayer’ of Italian-American culture after Godfather III).
While I’ve appreciated the power of sound in cinema in the past, Synchronizing Race and Sound provide a brand new angle to analyze the way sound is used in film. Despite focusing on the role of Black performers in the age of sound, similar lines are drawn in The Public Enemy to emphasize the difference between social classes. Tom and Matt speak with an accent which differentiates them from the educated tone and style Gwen speaks. Although they are not Italian-Americans, I assume there were similar negative stereotypes about Irish immigrants and as we discussed in class, media like The Public Enemy perpetuated these beliefs. By speaking slang, Tom and Matt represent Irish immigrants as a whole, and the population subconsciously associates the lack of education and law breaking with the group as a whole. Furthermore, I found it interesting how the role of sound served as a double edged sword for the Black population by providing new opportunities while perpetuating negative racial beliefs. Gangster movies seem to act in the same way for immigrant communities such as the Irish and the Italians as we know the mafia movie becomes hugely synonymous with Italian-Americans. In addition, the inclusion of a white female character as the love interest reminded me of the idea in class that these WASP women represented the American dream as a whole which I think fits squarely for this movie. One thought from the movie was how common was violence in movies at this point? Was the potential glorification of violence controversial? Glorifying violence is a topic of discussion today so I can only imagine there were debates then as well.
For Jan 29 class: I thought that the film The Public Enemy and Alice Maurice’s “Cinema at Its Source” had some overlap, as they both examined how early Hollywood used sound, identity, and spectacle to shape cultural perceptions. Maurice argues that black performers were used to legitimize early sound cinema, as their voices were framed as authentic for talkies. Similarly, The Public Enemy uses James Cagney’s distinct street-slang, which was fast and sharp, to construct the archetypal gangster and reinforce stereotypes about crime and masculinity. In both cases, Hollywood capitalized on marginalized identities to sell technological and narrative innovations to mass audiences. When it comes to the idea of identity, Maurice discusses how Hollywood ensured that black voices remained synchronized with black bodies. Likewise, The Public Enemy locks Cagney’s character into his specific gangster identity, making his eventual downfall inevitable. In other words, both narratives offer visibility of certain cultures yet also control how these cultures are to be perceived. Finally, the role of violence and spectacle is central in both cases. Maurice describes how early sound films used black musicality and religious emphasis to captivate audiences, while The Public Enemy relied on shocking moments, like the famous grapefruit scene and brutal shootouts. This traps these historically marginalized groups into solely being spectacles, something which likely fueled negative connotations and stereotypes towards these groups.
Ultimately, all of these tools and strategies reveal how early Hollywood leveraged sound and identity to reinforce social order, ensuring that marginalized figures ( black performers or gangsters) remained entertaining but ultimately constrained within cinematic hierarchies.
The Public Enemy frames organized crime as an ethnic enclave where Irish-Americans resort to organized criminal activity as a means of economic advancement in a society that denies them traditional opportunities. This theme aligns with Alice Maurice’s argument in “Cinema at Its Source”, where she examines how early sound cinema reinforced racial and ethnic distinctions through synchronization, which is a process that gangster films use to audibly connect criminality with ethnic identity. In The Public Enemy, Irish-American gangsters speak with thick urban accents and slang, distinguishing them from the more refined speech of law-abiding citizens and reinforcing their status as outsiders to mainstream American society. This reflects a broader cinematic trend where crime becomes a path to power for marginalized ethnic groups, whose voices separate them from Anglo-American authority. The way these characters sound not only signals their exclusion from legitimate institutions but also constructs organized crime as an ethnic survival strategy. This leads me to wonder whether synchronization within the mafia movie genre can only work to negatively bind Italian-Americans with organized crime.
In contrast to the silent films of the last class, this class (January 29th) focuses on the usage of sound and the way in which sound can be used to emphasize different aspects of film. The Public Enemy (1931), produced by Warner Bros., and the reading “Cinema at Its Source”: Synchronizing Race and Sound in the Early Talkies both examine the evaluation of sound throughout the film industry. Cinema at Its Source allowed me to consider the intersection between race and sound, one I had not considered in this manner. Synesthesia was very interesting to learn about considering this intersection. Sound in films is crucial, whether it be music, speaking, or simply ambient noises, they all help tell a story. Sound allows the film to become more detailed and it helps to create a more immersive film for viewers. Provided the crucial role sound plays, I was very interested in understanding how sound was used early in the industry considering both source perspectives. The biggest take away I had was how the early film industry used sound in connection with existing social hierarchies. Whether through the racialization of performances which the reading discusses or through the socio-economic depiction of characters through the lens of crime and morality, which the movie shows, both highlight how when first introduced, sound was used to discriminate against certain groups of people. I found this particularly fascinating because of the overarching evolution of sound in the film industry.
I really enjoyed The Public Enemy and found it to be an entertaining, action-packed film with an early take on the gangster narrative in film. The plot connects to the idea we discussed in class of how cinema echoes the news. The blurred lines between film and reality are explicitly stated in the title cards at the beginning and end of the film, emphasizing how the story is inspired by true events. In the end, we see how the rise and fall of Tom Powers reflects a broader societal issue during the prohibition era.
My first thoughts after watching The Public Enemy were how significantly impactful montage and sound play in the film. The simple addition of dialogue and background sound, along with the editor’s careful arrangement of shots, can completely transform the experience of the film. This effect is present from the beginning when we see Tom and Matt running away from an officer, accompanied by the sound of gunshots, which are then preceded by a shot of the deceased police officer’s hand. While we never actually see the act of killing, the techniques used have facilitated our understanding of the event.
I was also struck by how adding sound amplifies the film’s violence compared to Black Hand and Little Peppina. Matt’s final moments come to mind (01:12:15) as the sound of intense gunfire paired with a shot of him running makes up for the lack of visual effects that are seen in modern films today. I am curious to see how Hays Code would change how violence is portrayed in later gangster films.
Though in rather different ways, Alice Maurice’s Cinema at Its Source and The Public Enemy both demonstrate how early sound cinema influenced identity. Wellman’s film makes Tom Powers’s ascent and decline more visceral by using synchronized language to enhance James Cagney’s performance. His strength, masculinity, and criminal authority are reinforced by sound, which gives the gangster genre a new degree of realism.
Maurice, on the other hand, emphasizes how Hallelujah!’s use of sound racialized Black singers. Stereotypes of Black actors as “naturally” suited for emotive acting were reinforced by MGM’s marketing of Black voices as both a novelty and a remedy for the technological difficulties of early sound film. Synchronization was not merely a technical concept; it was also ideological, bringing Black voices into line with conventional notions of authenticity. These performances were fetishized by white critics who said they gave sound movies a more “alive” quality.
Both films demonstrate how cinematic identity was created by sound. Black singers were placed within racialized expectations in Hallelujah!, while The Public Enemy solidified the gangster character through speech. This poses the question: How have racial and social identities been constructed through the use of sound and voice in film?
To have the selected movie and reading paired for today’s class certainly highlights the racialization that early Italian immigrants felt in America. The article, “Cinema at Its Source”, focuses on the interesting characteristics of early talkie films that intertwined certain aspects of the performers (physical appearance, tone and quality of voice, “innate” behavior, etc.) with the quality and effectiveness of the talking picture itself. The reading specifically focused on Black performers in such films and the concerted effort of Hollywood producers to use Black performers to make the talkie more palatable for audiences. This manifested in the manner in which the performers’ voices were characterized (i.e., fetishization of the Black actor’s “low, mellow voice” with its “rich resonance”), an assertion that Black performers better captured the “essence” of talkies in their dancing and general liveliness that kept the film moving, and, in some ways, as being scapegoats for Hollywood should the early talkies have underperformed. Seeing this reading paired with “The Public Enemy”, a film following some iteration of organized crime in the U.S., brings to light the racialization of immigrant groups that many fail to acknowledge today considering a great number of these groups are no longer racialized in such a way. Similar to how the article says Black actors made up a majority of the casts for early talkies because the audience knew what they were getting into in the sense that they knew, stereotypically, what voice to expect from a Black person, one might see a similar connection between talkies about the mob or other gangs in that “whiter” individuals might know the stereotype of how “hoodlums” talk which would make their lives ideal subject matter for talkies. The root of this discussion though would go back to stereotyping and racialization in the sense that Hollywood was capitalizing on certain groups’ “otherness” to keep talkies interesting and more or less insured if they were negatively received.
After watching Wellman’s “The Public Enemy” and reading Maurice’s “Cinema at its Source,” her discussion of race and sound are quite relevant to the film. Maurice argues that early sound films operated through what she describes as a fetishization, in which the technical limitations of synchronized sound were compensated for by emphasizing racialized performances. In The Public Enemy, we see a similar mechanism at play: not through race but through the impact of audible violence. The Public Enemy enhances its viewing experience through the sonic emphasis of spanks, gunshots, fist fighting, and breaking glass. The exaggerated sound effects land with the audience in a way that keeps us engaged, shocked, or otherwise entertained. This use of sound to amplify violence mirrors Maurice’s argument that early talkies sought to reinforce spectacle through sensory impact. Just as black voices were framed as “more authentic” for sound recording, the heightened audio of The Public Enemy makes crime feel more immersive and brutal, capturing the realms of both realism and entertainment. When Tom Powers is killed in the film, the ear-piercing, relentless gunfire, coupled with the unsettling silence that follows, exemplifies how the film so adeptly utilizes sound to enhance the viewing experience.
A common trope in many mafia movies or shows is how the Italian and Sicilian immigrants faced and endured extreme hardship upon their arrival to the United States, after this week’s readings, we are able to see that these grievances were very well founded in reality. I remember that I was in a fairly constant state of shock when I read “The Passing of the Great Race” and the Immigration report by the US government. I have always known that during the early 20th century there was a large attempt at scientific racism, what I never knew was just how seriously this was taken. One thing that particularly stood out to me is the denigration and intense use of negative descriptive words whenever talking about southern Italians in stark comparison to their compatriots to the north. I always thought that the excessive hatred was towards the Sicilians not to the entire southern area of Italy. I also found it curious that although many supremacists and elitists will dream and call back to the once-great Roman Empire, they were considering most Italians of poor genetics and being of a lower race. In the directory of races, I was shocked at the numbers of immigrants and how it blatantly said that the immigration of Italians/Sicilians posed the greatest threat since they had the largest number of immigrants and the largest population at home to support a continued exodus. I also noticed that it did not mention how the Sicilian immigrants could be fleeing from the mafia; rather, it regarded it as a natural fact of Sicily and wasn’t a factor. Lastly, the movies assigned for this week were extremely interesting. In the black hand silent film, we can clearly see the gross exaggeration of the Italian persona being the criminal and the kidnapper. Since there was no sound, the way this was conveyed was through the stereotypical dress and appearance as well as the hand gestures. I also noted how they were portrayed as drunkards who were tripping over themselves even though it was still in the afternoon. This was all obviously planned, and it demonstrated some of what I was talking about above in my blog. These stereotypes of Italians were similarly used in Poor Little Peppina with several scenes involving alcohol, and it was always the Italians who were drinking it. I am curious to see if the anti-Italian propaganda layered into these silent films will continue when we watch early “talkies.” How will the portrayal of Italians change now that sound can be used instead of solely relying on physical appearance, behavior, and gesticulation?
On page 41, the article discussed that as time passed after the end of the silent era, it was apparent actors “talked less with their bodies, with large signs and gesticulations”. I spent last semester in a silent film class watching over 60 silent films and the expressive nature of the actors was evident in almost every one. While I knew that it eventually went “out of style”, I was surprised to see that a film like The Public Enemy, released only 3 years after the silent era, was already so evolved in the sense of the new “quiet body” style.
The article also talked about the desire of viewers for realism in cinema. On page 61, a quote mentions “We want the real thing, always, and the cinema demands the real thing”. It brought to mind the conversation from class about the appeal of mafia-esque films that boasted they included real police footage. I found it interesting they too mentioned the interest that “real-life footage” piques among viewers.
Additionally, I felt that the sound effects that the film was able to include (now that talkies had begun) definitely added emphasis to a variety of scenes. Whether this was the boom of the out-of-frame gunshot when Putty was killed (which also tied to the in-class discussion) or the dramatic thump when characters were hit and fell to the ground. Even the romantic music that played in the background of affectionate scenes made them feel more meaningful.
There were multiple moments in the film I felt demonstrated the idea of montage. For example, in the phone call scene at 44:35, a frame of a man on the phone is followed by one of a woman on the phone, allowing the viewer to infer the call was between the two.
For this week’s blog, I found it particularly interesting to compare “The Public Enemy” to other films we’ve seen in class thusfar. More specifically, watching “The Public Enemy” after “The Godfather Part III” and “Part II” gave an interesting portrayal of the evolution of the gangster film and the concerns of its theme. Unlike “The Godfather” films, “The Public Enemy” presents a raw, individual portrayal of crime instead of an aristocratic entity with deep cultural ties. Tom isn’t part of a larger mafia hierarchy, but instead a simple street gangster driven by personal ambition and violence instead of tradition and legacy.
This makes me wonder: How did the portrayal of organized crime shift? Was it reflective of changes in organized crime itself, or Hollywood’s evolving narrative style? Furthermore, The Public Enemy lacks the sense of loyalty and honor that is signature to later mafia films. There are no ethical codes or rules of “omertà”. Tom betrays, bullies, and ultimately falls victim to the same violence he inflicts. What is responsible for this shift?
What surprised me about The Public Enemy (1931) was how gritty and intense it felt, even for a film that’s nearly a century old. I expected a classic gangster movie to feel somewhat tame by today’s standards, but this one didn’t hold back. The violence, though not as graphic as modern films, was shocking for its time, and James Cagney’s portrayal of Tom Powers was both captivating and unsettling. He wasn’t just a typical gangster—he was ruthless, unpredictable, and, at times, almost disturbingly casual about his crimes. The famous grapefruit scene caught me off guard; I had heard about it before, but seeing it in context made it even more jarring. And the ending? I didn’t see that coming at all. It was darker and more haunting than I expected, leaving a lasting impression that stuck with me long after the movie ended.
What surprised me about The Public Enemy (1931) was how gritty and intense it felt, even for a film that’s nearly a century old. I expected a classic gangster movie to feel somewhat tame by today’s standards, but this one didn’t hold back. The violence, though not as graphic as modern films, was shocking for its time, and James Cagney’s portrayal of Tom Powers was both captivating and unsettling. He wasn’t just a typical gangster—he was ruthless, unpredictable, and, at times, almost disturbingly casual about his crimes. The famous grapefruit scene caught me off guard; I had heard about it before, but seeing it in context made it even more jarring. And the ending? I didn’t see that coming at all. It was darker and more haunting than I expected, leaving a lasting impression that stuck with me long after the movie ended.
William A. Wellman’s film The Public Enemy was an interesting film to watch because compared to a few of the older films that we have watched, it added another layer of depth to it in the introduction of sound. Sound plays a vital role in separating this film from the two silent films because, while silent films can show everything that happens in the events of the movie, they lack the ability to comprehend the correct emotion because the actual text is delayed. Additionally, the sound is used to identify the different archetypes that characters use and create more complex characters from it. For instance, Tom’s brother Mike has a distinct tone that gives the impression that he has been through a lot given he was a marine. Additionally, Tom’s girlfriend has a more higher class voice which gives a suggestion to her origins. The introduction of sound also introduces more of a fear factor with the character and the movie in general as you can tell how violent the scene truly is by hearing the guns and can hear the anger and violence in Tom’s voice when he begins his descent into a mob boss. Even though sound adds another layer of difference between a silent film and a regular film, I am curious about just how much depth it can add to characters given their status, race, or position in society.
William A. Wellman’s film The Public Enemy was an interesting film to watch because compared to a few of the older films that we have watched, it added another layer of depth to it in the introduction of sound. Sound plays a vital role in separating this film from the two silent films because, while silent films can show everything that happens in the events of the movie, they lack the ability to comprehend the correct emotion because the actual text is delayed. Additionally, the sound is used to identify the different archetypes that characters use and create more complex characters from it. For instance, Tom’s brother Mike has a distinct tone that gives the impression that he has been through a lot given he was a marine. Additionally, Tom’s girlfriend has a more higher class voice which gives a suggestion to her origins. The introduction of sound also introduces more of a fear factor with the character and the movie in general as you can tell how violent the scene truly is by hearing the guns and can hear the anger and violence in Tom’s voice when he begins his descent into a mob boss. Even though sound adds another layer of difference between a silent film and a regular film, I am curious about just how much depth it can add to characters given their status, race, or position in society.
I found it very interesting to read about the intentional racial aspects of film. We continue to see today the legacy of these talkies and the characteristics that they impose on black people, as well as the legacy of the imposed mafioso identity onto Italians and Italian Americans. I thought this was especially interesting to consider within the context of the racialization of the Italian identity. Throughout American history, the Italian identity has been debated as to their association with a certain race, and the stereotypes that are enforced in film enhance these debates. The application of the mafioso identity onto Italians forces a more violent identity to the Italian population, and allows people to assign this identity onto Italians, further perpetuating the race debate. These films, as Maurice explains, are intentional in their design and production. They work to enforce racist and xenophobic ideals against Black Americans and Italian Americans, and encourage assumptions about these populations. Even with a more developed film production process today, we continue to see this work in action. Often Black and Italian characters in film are still assigned the identities that were portrayed int he early talkies, a similar “thug” or “mafioso” caricature of these people. On page 47, Maurice explains that “the black performer is aligned with spectacle”, similar to the Italian performer as we see in “The Public Enemy” (1931). It is easy to create a public enemy out of an identity, which is an issue that we see across politics as well. An enemy is created out of an identity, and this identity becomes a spectacle in film and in real life. We see this identity as something of a spectacle, a thing that is completely separate from our identity and not relatable by us, so it is enjoyable to use because we do cannot sympathize with these characters. Filmmakers play with and exacerbate these issues in film, and further alienate these racial and ethnic groups.
A common trope in many mafia movies or shows is how the Italian and Sicilian immigrants faced and endured extreme hardship upon their arrival to the United States, after this week’s readings, we are able to see that these grievances were very well founded in reality. I remember that I was in a fairly constant state of shock when I read “The Passing of the Great Race” and the Immigration report by the US government. I have always known that during the early 20th century, there was a large attempt at scientific racism, what I never knew was just how seriously this was taken. One thing that particularly stood out to me is the denigration and intense use of negative descriptive words whenever talking about southern Italians in stark comparison to their compatriots to the north. I always thought that the excessive hatred was towards the Sicilians, not to the entire southern area of Italy. I also found it curious that although many supremacists and elitists will dream and call back to the once-great Roman Empire, they were considering most Italians of poor genetics and being of a lower race. In the directory of races, I was shocked at the numbers of immigrants and how it blatantly said that the immigration of Italians/Sicilians posed the greatest threat since they had the largest number of immigrants and the largest population at home to support a continued exodus. I also noticed how it did not mention how the Sicilian immigrants could be fleeing from the mafia but rather regarded it as a natural fact of Sicily and wasn’t a factor. Lastly, the movies assigned for this week were extremely interesting. In the black hand silent film, we can clearly see the gross exaggeration of the Italian persona being the criminal and the kidnapper. Since there was no sound, the way this was conveyed was through the stereotypical dress and appearance as well as the hand gestures. I also noted how they were portrayed as drunkards who were tripping over themselves even though it was still in the afternoon. This all was obviously planned and demonstrated some of what I was talking about above in my blog. These stereotypes of Italians were similarly used in Poor Little Peppina with several scenes involving alcohol, and it was always the Italians who were drinking it. I am curious to see if the anti-Italian propaganda that was layered into these silent films will continue when we watch early “talkies.” How will the portrayal of Italians change now that sound can be used instead of solely relying on physical appearance, behavior, and gesticulation?
Robert Warshow’s article the Gangster as Tragic Hero presents the gangster, both as a character and as a movie genre, as representative of the danger of success. He labels the possibility of failure to be “a kind of death” and success as “evil and dangerous” and “ultimately impossible”. I think this is an interesting idea that contributes to why the genre of gangster films is so appealing to the public–it makes failure more comfortable. The movies we have seen so far demonstrate a similar progression for the protagonist, as he moves up in the ranks and becomes more successful, his actions become more shady and violent until, finally, when they catch up with him and he dies. This concept associates a danger with success that becomes palatable to the public who are not rising up in society through a risk-reward lifestyle. Rico’s actions ultimately catch up with him at his death, just as Tom’s had in the Public Enemy, or Michael’s in Godfather 3 at Mary’s death–demonstrating that they can only live so high up and reap the benefits of being a gangster temporarily. I wonder if this will be a progression in every film of this genre where, after a certain point, the successful boss is doomed and if that pattern is what makes the films so successful.
In “The Gangster as Tragic Hero”, Robert Warshow presents an interesting analysis of American society and its fundamental, almost dutiful, commitment to a happiness-driven view of life. He argues that happiness is not only a desirable state of mind or state of society, but rather a civic duty and ideal for which to strive. This can be seen in the 1931 film Little Caesar wherein the protagonist Rico’s rise to power is glorified, while also simultaneously cursed by standing in solitude atop his criminal empire. The theme of isolation on the road to achieving success is common among the movies we have studied thus far, as seen in Michael Corleone’s breakdown throughout the Godfather series and in Tom Powers’s defeat at the end of Public Enemy. I can’t also help but draw parallels between this theme and the state of American society at the time that “The Gangster as Tragic Hero” was written immediately following World War II: the United States achieved a great deal of success on the world stage and emerged as a superpower, yet new threats were already rising and Americans were feeling an overwhelming “duty” to be happy instead of the raw feeling of happiness.
Lastly, I want to point out a difference between Little Caesar and Public Enemy that struck me: in Public Enemy, when Tom believes he may die after the shootout, he says, “I ain’t so tough”, and in contrast, in Public Enemy Rico says as his last words, “Mother of mercy, is this the end of Rico?” It is almost as if Tom was accepting of his mortality while Rico could not believe he had been defeated, and I am interested in further analyzing this difference given that I think the films have many other thematic similarities.
Monday Feb 3: As discussed in class this past Wednesday and within the reading “The Gangster as Tragic Hero”, the idea of the gangster as a complex character that we feel conflicting distain as well as sympathy is very intriguing. Even though the gangster chooses the life they lead, there is a despair that once in the life, there is no escape. The true tragedy is the lack of escape in any aspect of life. The gangster chooses the life of crime to escape the life of poverty to then try and escape the life of crime for happiness, none of which ever becomes possible. This tragedy is seen within the film “Little Cesar” as well as in all three Godfather movies. While reading “The Gangster as Tragic Hero” I was struck by the line “Happiness becomes the chief political issue”. Within cinema and really every aspect of life, we are all searching for happiness above all else. Whether that is in the form of love, friendship, experiences, validation, or something else, we are all craving the feeling of happiness. Due to this constant craving, the gangster movie trop is so appealing because we see each of our tragedies in life played out in the movie (it is to different extremes of connection to our reality). The tragedy is that we all search for happiness. For the gangster, they can see the happiness that we all strive for through the mafia. They get a taste of this happiness through a strong family, power, and money, however, the tragedy comes when they always end up coming to the realization that the never ending happiness can never be obtained regardless of power or money. While the audience is repulsed by the choice to turn to crime in order to find happiness, we can all sympathize with the gangster and give them credit for trying to find new ways to obtain happiness. I believe that if gangsters were able to find sustained happiness through their lives of crime, the audience/public wold be much more accepting to the idea of gangsters. A part of why we are so repulsed by gangsters is because we all believe that if that was the way to happiness, we too would become gangsters. The idea of understanding gangsters but also hating ourselves due to this understanding is perfectly summed up in “The Gangster as Tragic Hero” as it states, “the gangster is what we want to be and what we are afraid we may become”.
Prior to watching early talkies like The Public Enemy and Little Caesar, I didn’t know how the films would fit into the mafioso story that we first looked at with Godfather III in the 90s and traced back to early cinema with the short films from last week. The Godfather trilogy, if acquainted with, can seem as an offshoot of cinematic focus since, I would argue, there aren’t many new films being made with a strong interest in early 20th century Italian mobs. Looking at the short films, it would seem the Italian mafia story gained traction in the movies because it was culturally relevant as would be suggested by the forewords that appeared prior to the start of some films. But I would say The Public Enemy and Little Caesar fit in a unique space between the early 1900s and 1990 because neither are expressly Italian in character, and they seem to be defined by events that make them interestingly un-Italian as compared to both prior and later films of a similar mob/gangster nature. This becomes apparent when reading Warshow’s essay on the function of the gangster in cinema from the first half of the 20th century.
Warshow writes about two things in particular that stood out to me regarding the gap between gangster movies and Italian mafia movies with the first being how the gangster’s work is never fully defined such that it appears purely criminal behavior. When we look at The Public Enemy and Little Caesar, the men in these movies do have undefined work. They clearly do not work other jobs outside of their crime organizations, but why do their crime organizations exist? What is the objective of killing others or robbing shops? The audience can make assumptions about Prohibition, rejection of authority, etc. etc., but the plot itself never makes this clear. Looking specifically at Michael Corleone in parts II and III of the Godfather, we know about his work whether that be in banking with the Vatican or in Vegas casinos.
Secondly, Warshow writes about the inevitability of failure for the gangster in that he pushes himself to succeed, and success must be done alone, but being alone is dangerous so he dies and in death he fails. This trope certainly holds for The Public Enemy and Little Caesar as we see individual men working their way through the mob who eventually die gruesome deaths by their lonesome. Looking at the deaths in the Godfather though, Michael and Vito aren’t killed for their work. Additionally, we never see true isolation for the main “gangsters” of the Godfather as the business is, at its core, a family affair.
This distinction between early gangster movies and more explicitly Italian mafia movies made me think about how the treatment of the mafia changed over the course of the 20th century. Were the early films, which do have Italian characters, a true reflection of the mob at the time or simply a generalized assumption made by Hollywood? If it is more or less accurate, why is there such a stark change in the way we see the mob in these 1930s films as compared to Coppola’s mafia? Would this suggest the state of organized crime in America itself was changing so drastically from 1930 through the end of World War II? Or is this simply highlighting regional differences in organized crime as the early films we’ve seen are set in Chicago and the Godfather is focused on New York mafia? Additionally, the Sicilian mafia, as we’ve seen in Dickie, originated with a purpose centered on exploiting the citrus exports from the island and profited on safety in numbers (involving families and even entire towns, earning respect from individuals to keep them quiet in the face of the law, scoring political protection from having friends in high places). So beyond the accents, names, locations, and general culture of the Godfather, why are those later films seemingly more in-touch with the Sicilian origins of the mafia and organized crime as it was brought to America than the earlier films of the century?
Little Caesar perfectly exemplifies Robert Warshow’s theory that a typical gangster film follows “a steady upward progress followed by a very precipitate fall.” While I agree with Warshow’s assertion that the only possible outcomes for a gangster are death and failure, I believe Rico’s downfall unfolds differently than he suggests.
There are two types of death a character can experience: physical and spiritual. These can occur separately, together, or even in conflict with one another, with one ultimately prevailing. In Rico’s case, the death of his gangster spirit directly leads to his physical demise. Throughout the film, his two identities—his personal self and his criminal persona—are in constant struggle. As he ascends through the ranks of his crime organization, he loses his individuality, molding himself into the ruthless figure he believes he must become. However, when the moment arrives for him to fully commit to this identity by killing his friend Joe, he hesitates. In that instant, his gangster spirit dies, sealing his fate and ensuring his eventual physical downfall.
Rico’s actual death isn’t the most significant moment of his story—his failure is. By the third act, his desperate, emasculating behavior while on the run makes it clear that he has lost everything he worked for. His physical death merely underscores the brutal inevitability of a gangster’s downfall. His final words serve as a tragic acknowledgment of this truth: he has not only died but, more importantly, he has failed. Had Rico fully embraced his gangster persona, he might have survived this particular moment. Ultimately, however, it would have only delayed the inevitable.
I thought the article was very interesting and had good insight into “gangster” films. As I was reading, I found myself drawing connections from many different areas to the films we have watched so far. One point the article mentioned was “the typical gangster film presents a steady upward progress followed by a very precipitate fall.” This drew obvious connections to a variety of characters like Rico in Little Caesar, Matt and Tom in The Public Enemy, and Vito Corleone in the Godfather 1&2. However, it also caused me to reflect on Michael’s story in The Godfather 1/2/3 as he never had a quick fall from fame. He slowly lost more and more important people in his life and, presumably, maintained his wealth and status until he died of old age. I wondered if maybe that difference is part of what makes The Godfather stand out or even what makes Michael one of the more likable characters out of the various films
The article also talked a lot about the individuality of the gangster. It says “The gangster’s whole life is an effort to assert himself as an individual, to draw himself out of the crowd”. While I agree with this, as well as the connected arguments they make, I was surprised they didn’t speak about the significance that relationships have as well. While the gangster’s importance comes from their individuality, their power and character come from their connection to others (at least in the film depictions). This is evident in The Godfather(s) where Vito gains his power through favors to others. Additionally, a big part of Rico and Tom’s lives were their best friends (Joe and Matt)
Having finished the early talkies The Public Enemy, and Little Ceasar, I was shocked by how much the characters had undergone a shift from the early silent gangster/mob movies. Firstly, the characters had foreign-sounding names (probably of Italian descent) which I felt was deliberate to continue to show that this type of crime is not truly American but rather imported. Still, they were seemingly more Americanized than their counterparts in the early movies. In Little Ceasar for example, Rico doesn’t drink and we only ever see him drunk once he has lost it all at the end of the movie. There are no more flagrant stereotypes like there were in the silent films and this stood out as interesting to me.
One more thing that was very interesting to me about the movie was how religion was still present in the film. Rico’s dying words include the phrase Mother of God. This all the more shows the hypocrisy of the gangster as he will still call on God even though earlier on in the plot he had Tony gunned down on the steps of a Church. I couldn’t help but remember in Godfather III how Don Tomassino was gunned down by an assassin in Priest’s clothes. The motif of religion in mafia/gangster movies was present from the beginning.
Lastly, in the readings, I saw the immediate connections that the author made about the gangster film being emblematic of a slow rise and a sudden collapse. This was certainly the case in both of the 1931 talkies that we saw, where both the protagonists died in the end. I loved the quote that appeared at the beginning of Little Caesar “For all that take the sword, shall perish with the sword”. This serves two purposes: firstly, as foreshadowing as Rico dies by the metaphorical sword (in this case the gun) and secondly, as a callback to the religious undertones in the movie since this is a biblical quote from the gospel of Matthew. Also in the readings was a mention of how it is dangerous to be alone and we certainly see this because the main deaths in the film are when the characters are alone and whenever a character is alone there is a certain uneasy feeling as we know there is the possibility of death. The author also mentions how every attempt to succeed is an act of aggression and Rico perfectly captures this when he says that the Big Boy is done just like Sam was done; there is always aggression. I do wonder how or why this motif commenced because it does not do justice to the truth of the matter, how diplomacy has always been a factor in gangs and how among the most important details in the mafia is the concept of family. I look forward to seeing how this will change throughout the movies we will watch.
I found the rise and fall of Rico particularly interesting. Similar to many of the Mafia characters we have seen thus far, Rico was extremely confident and did not let anyone step in his way of what he wanted to accomplish. This was a very favorable aspect for him in the beginning because at first his boss thought he was crazy and it would get him killed, however it was quite the opposite. He gained massive respect very quickly and dealt with all of his enemies himself. Similar to Public Enemy, when he got to the top it did not seem like he quite fit in. At the dinners where he was being celebrated he seemed quite uncomfortable and out of place. He also seemed uncomfortable when he put on a fancy tuxedo because he was not used to his newfound fame. This to me was foreshadowing the fact that his reign would be short-lived. Even though he was confident with his ability to run his “business”, he knew that he didn’t fit in with the other high class people that were surrounding him. I also found it ironic that the one moment he let up and didn’t pull the trigger right away was the start of his downfall. This shows that if you choose the life of a gangster you can never get rid of it even if you want to. I also thought it was ironic that the end of his life was behind a billboard of Tom because not killing him was the beginning of his downfall and also the end of it.
As Warshow notes and as we have discussed in class, the archetype of the mafia movie often falls into familiar archetypes, like any body of work from Shakespeare to theater. One of these archetypes that both “Little Caesar (1931)” and “The Gangster as Tragic Hero” illuminate is the gangster as a symbol of modern anxiety in city life. Gangsters and mafia types embody the contradictions of urban life: the pursuit of success and the inevitability of failure. Rico is an obvious manifestation of this dynamic—he is attracted to the city for its bigness and ruthless environment, and he becomes the ultimate product of this system over time.
Throughout “Little Caesar,” Rico rises to power in the city through ambition and violence. The gangster world rewards dominance, but he becomes vulnerable when he reaches the top. Rico’s death after his rise to power reflects a darker societal perception: success is both desirable and dangerous.
The gangster also exposes society’s hypocrisy. Rico’s rise follows the same logic as corporate success—he seizes opportunities, eliminates competition, and builds an empire. The difference is that his methods are explicit. Warshow suggests this is a large part of why we are drawn to gangsters— they reveal the aggression behind all ambition, forcing us to confront the unsettling reality that success often requires moral compromise.
Yet, the gangster must always die. Rico’s final words: “Mother of mercy, is this the end of Rico?”—reveal the tragic irony of his life. He was never truly in control. His death reassures audiences that the system corrects itself, even if they secretly identify with his struggle. The gangster is, therefore, as Warshow argues, a tragic figure embodying society’s deep anxieties about power, ambition, and failure.
I disagreed with a great portion of Warshow’s article. He says in one sentence: “the fate of the individual is not conceived as having a direct and legitimate political importance.” Later he says: “the avowed function of the modern state ….is to determine the quality and the possibilities of human life in general. Happiness thus becomes the chief political issue.” These sentences seem to contradict each other.
He also says that “If an American or Russian is unhappy, it implies a certain reprobation of his society …. It becomes an obligation of citizenship to be cheerful.” Really? The article was written in 1948. I don’t believe that a nation recovering from four years of war found it compelling to be cheerful. They did their duty, everyone sacrificed for what was thought a higher good, but I don’t believe cheerful would be a word that the average citizen would feel or feel compelled to feel.
When it comes to analyzing the gangster movies, I believe that Warshow overthinks it, at least for the average movie goer he claims to speak of; though maybe not for his intellectual crowd. “The real facts of whatever situation it pretends to describe is of only secondary importance and does not determine the aesthetic force.” I don’t see this at all. I think the average movie goer sees those real facts and situation to be the basis of an interesting story, if it is told well, and of critical importance.
He also states that “often we are not given even that much information. So his activity becomes a kind of pure criminality.” In The Public Enemy we get a very clear insight into Tommy’s background and how he progressed from smart aleck kid to street thug to organized crime boss. (Also is true in Godfather two though written long after Warshow’s article.)
He later mentions that the gangster is looking for “a success that is defined in its most general terms, not as accomplishment or specific gain.” Again, I disagree. In both The Public Enemy and in Little Caesar, Tommy and Rico had very specific goals in terms of the levels they wanted to achieve and who they’d have to displace to achieve those levels of success.
I agree with his assertion that the gangster is doomed but disagree that it not because of his unlawful means of attaining success and due to the “obligation to succeed.” Again, I think Warshow is over-thinking his point and bringing in his own political views versus just analyzing the movies.
Little Caesar embodies the sentiment that Robert Warshow expressed in the closing of the article “The Gangster as the Tragic Hero”: “failure is a kind of death and success is evil and dangerous, is—ultimately—impossible.” Rico’s story follows the classic archetypal plot of the mafia boss’s rise to power and subsequent fall. He starts from nothing and, through a propensity for violence, climbs his way to riches and respect, achieving what he held to be the American dream. In the movie, the character of Joe presents a foil to Rico’s cutthroat grab for power by attempting to make a legal living through dancing and pursuing a legitimate career that makes him happy. However, he is unable to leave the gang life, and he and Rico both ultimately fail to achieve success, representing the degradation of the American Dream by organized crime. However, we do see a rare moment of Rico’s humanity when he is unable to kill his best friend Joe for trying to leave the life of crime. After Joe’s murder, Rico’s life trends steadily downhill, until he has lost any wealth and respect he gained from the mafia. The violence that led to his meteoric success is rendered senseless by his fall from fame. One could argue that this is his true death, the death by his failure, as Warshow puts it, which leaves his actual perishing to be anticlimactic. His final words, “ Is this the end of Rico?”, Warshow explains, demonstrate how even to himself, Rico has become a figment of the imagination, a larger than life character. This omnipotent, God-like, power-hungry character is not unlike Tom in the Public Enemy, However, while Tom seems to regain his humanity at the end of the movie after his near-death experience, Rico appears to distance himself farther from it after losing everything: his friend, his mafia family, his position. He has become so intertwined with his persona of Little Caesar that he can no longer separate the person from the mobster.
For Feb 3rd: The article Robert Warshow about “The Gangster As Tragic Hero” discusses fascinating aspects of human nature and psychology where humans are constantly reaching towards a state of happiness, and this definition of happiness is oftentimes tied together with success. Around the time of the early 1900s, the beacon of success for many, especially immigrants, was through the American Dream. Little Caesar’s film gives a more violent and twisted take on the American Dream where Rico aggressively built power through heinous crimes all for the sake of success, only to fail in the end due to his excess hubris and greed for power. As the viewer, it becomes quite conflicted to watch, as we both sympathize and scorn Rico’s actions. The reason why the gangster movie can feel like a tragedy to those who watch it is because of our instant understanding of the character in a society where everyone is trying to reach success and happiness. Therefore we can understand Rico’s motivation. However due to Rico’s extreme measures that everyday citizens would never behave, reaching success in such a manner is evil, and the only conclusion for such a character is death.
I also thought the writer had an interesting take on why people are satisfied by tragic gangster movies. My personal understanding, as well as the writer’s take, is that people gain comfort in seeing others’ tragedies while holding their own lives as a comparison. It is also tied together with what we have mentioned in class about how people are drawn to mafia cinema to experience violence and drama in a safe environment. By watching the gangster’s attempt to reach success but to meet with a tragic end, we can live our violent fantasies through them and also know the ending of our lives if we chose such a path of self destruction to claim power. The movies can be used to rationalize the decisions we make in life and make ourselves feel better about our own mediocrity.
Little Caesar prompted me to consider how mafia men dress the part. The gangster attire: a big top hat, dark suit, tie or bowtie, pocket square, cigar in mouth, and gelled back hair, demonstrate prestige and cleanliness. These similarities in attire contribute to the reputation of the mafia, meaning men who simultaneously perform “dirty” business and purport a political image of status. Going back to our reading last week about how the South of Italy was associated with “mysterious” and “highly imaginative” people, this is consistent with how mafia men are portrayed in Little Caesar: men of high society living mysterious and revengeful lives. They exert an image of power that the filmmakers are eager to parallel to a similarly “suave” business life internally between mafia men.
As Robert Warshow argues in his essay, the gangster figure that emerged in early-20th-century cinema expresses the tension within the American psyche about modern life through the rise and fall of the gangster character. I think this idea is perfectly reflected in both The Public Enemy and Little Caesar, which are shaped by their historical contexts and highlight the broader issues at the time. Similar to the character development of Tom Powers, Rico in Little Caesar follows a path of short-term success through illegal activities that ultimately lead to his downfall. The author points out that the urban environment creates this “man of the city” for characters like Rico, and it’s also the place where he dies as an individual. I think that part of this loneliness is conveyed through the friendship between Joe and Rico, as Joe longs for a life with Olga outside of crime, and Rico is left alone. I found Warshow’s thoughts on death in the gangster movie to also be interesting, as death offers a resolution that allows us, the audience, to feel safe from the tension of modern life. This idea connects to our class discussion on whether Tom Powers represented the American Dream or the corruption of the American Dream. While Rico embodies the ambitions central to the American Dream, his lifestyle leads him down a dark path; I found that this aspect was conveyed visually in the film’s final moments through the use of shadows and dark lighting moments before Rico’s death.
After reading “Robert Warshow: The Gangster As Tragic Hero” I tried to see the movie in the way he described. One key aspect of the article that I saw throughout the movie was the idea of rising to the top because of your individualism, but falling soon after for that very reason. Specifically, the article says, “The gangster’s whole life is an effort to assert himself as an individual, to draw himself out of the crowd, and he always dies because he is an individual.” Rico was constantly more boastful and more assertive than the rest of the people in his gang. He even seemed to ignore the apparent power dynamics with not only his own boss but every figure with power in the movie. The individualism Rico had was derived from his ego, but also his commitment to his ideals of not becoming “yellow” or in other words betraying/leaving the gang. The irony with this is that he was an independent person who never really listened to orders, but praised the idea of staying together and relying on each other. Then, in his death he was not only just alone, but he also referred to himself in third person because as Warshow describes, “ what has been brought low was not the undifferentiated man, but the individual with a name.”
I also wanted to point out Warshow’s point on a vague background portraying a sense of “pure criminality.” This was definitely true in the movie, because the dancing club was simply a setting that we as an audience didn’t know much about. It was a cover and all we really associated with it was crime, which did portray the idea that these people were purely criminals.
I believe that Little Caesar serves as a fascinating lens through which to examine the darker implications of the American Dream. Through Rico’s tragic journey from poverty to criminal power, the film presents a narrative that resonates deeply with universal aspirations while simultaneously undermining and, ultimately, discrediting them. Robert Warshow’s framing of the gangster as tragic hero perfectly captures this duality – Rico embodies relatable desires for social mobility and respect, yet his only path to achieving these dreams is through violence and crime. Consequently, while officially condemning and invalidating Rico’s methods through his inevitable downfall, the film, I believe, simultaneously suggests something troubling about American society itself. If criminal enterprise becomes the only feasible route to success for some- a success accompanied by inevitable isolation, establishment of enemies and ultimate failure- what does that reveal about the true accessibility of the American Dream? This subversive undertone, coupled with Warshow’s insights about the gangster figure’s inherent despair communicates somewhat of an implicit critique of the American Dream that ultimately becomes digestible to American audiences who experience the falsity of relentless optimism and reality inevitable despair that Warshow discusses.
Tony Camonte’s reckless charisma in Scarface (1932) blurs the line between admiration and condemnation, a tension that fueled censorship debates. I found his character very captivating even during his downfall. I think it was Tony’s captivation that caused much of the censorship debates. It is dangerous for youthful audiences to have an obsession with a violent and power hungry character such as Tony. The article highlights how censors feared that audiences might sympathize with gangsters, forcing the filmmakers to include an anti-crime prologue. Yet, despite these efforts, Tony remains compelling, exposing the allure of criminal power even within a supposed cautionary tale.
The film also mirrors 1930s anxieties about organized crime’s grip on society. Tony’s rapid ascent, fueled by corruption and brutality, reflects real fears that gangsters operated with impunity, shaping a world where violence dictated success. The article was also interesting when it mentioned how Al Capone has criticized gangster films arguing they inspired youth violence. I keep seeing a disconnect from reality of the gangsters during the time and the realities. Al Capone as mentioned in class saw himself as a business man, but in movies this portrayal of power and a envious life is not an actual reality. I wonder the effect gangster films have on younger generations and how much it encourages a life of violence even though that life might not be depicted correctly in the movies.
One of the coolest things about Scarface is how the visuals shift as Tony’s life spirals out of control. At the start, Miami is all bright lights and neon colors, showing the excitement of his rise. But as things get darker for him, the movie’s colors and settings reflect that—his world literally becomes smaller and more intense. The “The World Is Yours” sign is another cool touch. It pops up first on a blimp and later in his mansion, symbolizing everything he’s chasing. But in the end, it’s ironic because even though he got everything he wanted, he still loses it all. And the music? That synth-heavy 80s score gives the whole movie this very cool and epic, almost surreal vibe, making Tony’s downfall feel even more dramatic.
Another interesting thing is how Tony isn’t just a straight-up villain—he’s got his own twisted sense of morals. He’ll kill without hesitation, but he refuses to murder a man in front of his kids, even though it puts his own life at risk. That moment gives him a tiny shred of humanity, making him more complex than just a typical crime boss. His weird obsession with his sister, Gina, also stands out. He’s super overprotective, but it’s not just about control—it shows that no matter how rich and powerful he gets, he’s still stuck in his past. He can’t let go, and that insecurity plays a huge role in his downfall. Scarface isn’t just about drugs and violence; it’s a deep look at how ambition, paranoia, and ego can totally destroy someone.
Scarface is a gangster film that focuses on Italian mobsters in the 1920s. While I had seen the Al Pacino 1983 remake, I had not yet watched the original made in 1932. Therefore, I found it very interesting to read Chris Yogerst’s piece contextualizing the original film. As discussed in class, the film puts us in an ambiguous position: Is the audience meant to condemn the gangster or identify with him. To me, part of what makes “gangster” films so exciting is that they represent a whole other world that is hard for mass audiences to relate to in more modern times. However, Yogerst explained that because the film was made during the Great Depression, “the gangster was a relatable figure… [and] expresses that part of the American psyche which rejects the qualities and demands of… ‘Americanism’” (134). It’s fascinating that the popularity of the original film is due to the “relatableness” of the gangsters that today seem completely out of touch with mass audiences. Another component of the original film I had not known about was the censorship it faced. The reading explained how Scarface had “more censor intervention than any other film,” (136). Moreover, the censorship was because the film was seen as an endorsement or celebration of criminals. Even the New York Police Commissioner commented on how the gangsters are “glorified” in the film. Today, censorship is an often-discussed topic, especially considering how many more forms of media there are today. So, I think the parallels are interesting between Scarface and today’s discussions of censorship when it comes to art and media.
I truly admire Hawks for sticking his ground and believing in the raw honesty of his story, despite many attempts at censorship. The violence was so constant and casual in this film; the whistling at the start of the movie paralleled with the whistling of Tony as he goes to kill Rinaldo shows just how easy murdering was for these men. Nonetheless, Hawks deals with issues of morality very well not just through use of creative shadows and off-screen killings, but also by creating a very meta experience. Mirroring how Warner Bros. produced “headline-driven crime pictures”, powerful scenes in the film speak directly to the audience in proving the harm that this glorification of gangsters has; more importantly, it issues a call for action by not diffusing responsibility to the cops or the government, but the people – which I thought was very unique in comparison to past mob stories. However, Scarface did share aspects with archetypes of similar stories. For example, I found it noteworthy that both this and Little Caesar had a strong motif of a billboard to draw connections to the American Dream. Yet to avoid the audience completely relating to such a dark figure, like we discussed in class, Scarface too showed the dangers of over-ambition when it comes to the American Dream, ending with the tragedy of our “hero” dying once again. This also could suggest that these criminals’ only form of retribution is through death, a lesson the censorship-advocates would gladly support. A relationship I found particularly interesting in Scarface was that of Tony and Cesca. This reminded me of Michael and Connie’s dynamic in The Godfather, both sisters resenting their brothers for murdering their loved ones. Hawks handles gender dynamics very well in his film in ways that pay tribute to real-life events.
Scarface (1932) is probably the most intense gangster film I’ve seen so far. Unlike The Public Enemy and Little Caesar, which framed the protagonist’s rise and fall within more structured crime networks, Scarface feels more chaotic and less about the organization of the mafia family and more about raw, unfiltered ambition. Tony Camonte, like Rico and Tom Powers, embodies the classic rise-and-fall trajectory we’ve talked about in class, but his fall is almost more self-inflicted. He doesn’t just overreach but instead feels like he completely spirals, destroying everything in his path, including his own empire. What struck me the most after reading Yogerst’s article was how much Scarface challenged the censors of film. We’ve talked before about how gangster films reflect real anxieties, especially during Prohibition, but this film made those fears too real. The Hays Office and city censors saw it as outright dangerous, forcing a lot of edits and even alternate endings. It reminds me of what we discussed with The Public Enemy with how films shape public perceptions of crime. Hollywood wanted to sell excitement, but it also had to control the message, making sure audiences saw crime as something to condemn and not something to glorify. Another continued theme that stood out to me in this movie was the shift from the Sicilian countryside origins of the mafia to its transformation in American cities. Scarface leans heavily into this, showing how violence isn’t just a tool but more of a way of life for Tony. Compared to The Godfather, where there’s at least some illusion of honor and structure, Scarface makes it clear that power in the American underworld is chaotic, brutal, and ultimately self-destructive.
The first thing that struck me when watching Scarface was that the starting screen of the film makes a similar claim to Warner Bro’s framing of Little Cesar as a “moral crusade.” The text reads: “this picture is an indictment of gang rule in America and of the callous indifference of the government to this constantly increasing menace to our safety and liberty.” By presenting the film as such, the producers seem to be saying that this film is almost a form of social advocacy.
I have never paid much attention to the opening scene of a film, but after discussing the similarities and differences between the opening scenes of Public Enemy and Little Cesar, the opening of Scarface caught my attention. I thought it was interesting how similar to the opening of Public Enemy, the viewer receives a scan of the surrounding world. Furthermore, the camera starts focusing on individuals, we follow one person for a significant period of time (the cleaner), before focusing on and “finding” the true main characters of the scene. This was also similar to Public Enemy when the camera seems to be following random people until we find the two boys stepping out onto the street together.
The opening scene also has a perfect display of Irony a story telling element we were discussing in class on Monday. Just minutes before Big Louie Costillo is murdered he is talking to the group of men about how successful he has been. He sounds like he may be the perfect example of someone who succeeded at achieving the elusive “American Dream” when he says “look at me — a man…I got plenty. I got the house, I got the automobile, I got the girl.” It’s quite ironic that right after making such a gloating statement, he is shot and killed, proving that he is clearly not all that successful.
Scarface was a great and interesting film. It was particularly intense and had great violence throughout. I particularly found it interesting that the reading discussed the censorship of the film. I felt as though the film was quite overwhelmingly violent or full of gunshots, so I was surprised it was known as a censored film in any capacity. I also found the text at the beginning of the film interesting because it called on the people and the government asking, “what are you going to do about [gang violence]”. Instead of the film just showing this violence it rather focused on the social commentary of the power of the people in changing societal issues. I also found Tony Camonte’s character very interesting throughout the film. Tony was the leader of violence throughout the film, however the one person he was protective over was his sister, Cesca. His character is rather hypocritical because he wants to protect Cesca however he is exactly who he is trying to protect her from, which is an interesting dichotomy. It is also Tony who is the reason Cesca ends up dead. If Tony was not picking a fight the way he conducted business, they would have never been put in a situation where Tony was the target. Also it seems that Tony was going a bit crazy when he was shutting the bullet proof shutters, his actions yet again put him in a sticky situation. While he was not paying attention a bullet hit off the mental and that is what killed Cesca. Therefore, while trying to protect her, he is the reason she dies.
Watching the 1932 Scarface after already seeing the modern version was an interesting experience. While I knew the general story, an ambitious gangster rising to power and ultimately falling victim to his own excess, didn’t realize how different the original film was in style and message from the Al Pacino version. Unlike the flashy, drug-fueled chaos of the 1983 version, the original Scarface is a gritty, street level crime story that was so controversial it nearly got banned.
Chris Yogerst’s article explains how Scarface (1932) became a major censorship battle. Hollywood was under pressure to clean up its films, and authorities feared that showing gangsters as powerful figures would encourage crime. The film was edited multiple times to add an anti-gangster message, and at one point, they even tried renaming it Shame of a Nation. But Howard Hughes, the film’s producer, fought back, arguing that Scarface wasn’t glorifying crime and instead was exposing it.
What stood out most to me was how both versions of Scarface reflect their time periods. The 1932 version, made during the Great Depression, presents gangsters as violent figures of a broken system, while the 1983 version, made during the height of the drug trade, turns Tony Montana into a symbol of greed and excess. These films next to each other showcase how this particular genre has changed over time.
Having never seen Al Pacino’s Scarface remake, I was able to go into watching the original Scarface with no expectations, which I think was beneficial for me. I was not expecting the details that are given by using modern technology as I might have if I had seen the 1983 remake. I thought it was interesting reading the text after having watched the movie because it gave me context, but didn’t give me too many expectations when I watched the movie. I really had no idea about the movie before seeing it, as I do not tend to enjoy violent films and therefore have not seen many mafia movies. Scarface being so heavily censored does not surprise me particularly, given the time. Many reforms were being made to regulate the population’s consumption, like prohibition. Prohibition, spanning from 1920-1933, ended one year after this movie was released, and exemplified a similar censorship to that of gangster films, and were reflective of policies such as these. I was surprised that the article so briefly mentioned prohibition, because I feel that the link is very strong to the attitudes of the time. The themes in Scarface that reflect the reality of the United States at the time are ones that the government would want to hide, because the people watching the movies will then be tempted to mirror the actions in these films. With violent films such as these, it is understandable that the government had a desire to censor. I should add a caveat that I do not support this censorship, just as I do not support prohibition, but I do understand the motivation behind it. Today we see a lot of research that connects the rise in violent video games to school shootings and children being more violent, and there are similar regulations being considered today.
The concepts Robert Warshow outlines in The Gangster as Tragic Hero are well reflected in Howard Hawks’ Scarface (1932). Following the same pattern as the mobster, Tony Camonte rises through unbridled ambition and brutality only to be devastated by the exact success he pursued. The gangster movie, according to Warshow, represents a deeper worry in American society: our combined fear and adoration of ambition.
Tony’s demise appears to be inevitable throughout Scarface. He is isolated because of his violent tendencies, power fixation, and possessiveness for Cesca. According to Warshow, the gangster’s success renders him an outlaw in both a legal and psychological sense because he must live alone at the top, which makes his downfall inevitable. Tony’s last scene under the neon sign “The World Is Yours” serves as further evidence of this, a bitter irony that serves as a reminder that power is fleeting and that success is ultimately “evil and dangerous,” in Warshow’s words.
Scarface is especially captivating because it dispels any doubt that the gangster can ever “win.” According to Warshow, the gangster’s story is one of unavoidable failure due to the nature of ambition itself rather than his criminal activity. Not only is Tony’s demise a retribution for his acts of aggression, but it also serves as evidence that power isolates people and that the same traits that make someone successful also make them prone to fail. Warshow’s thesis is ultimately concluded in his last moments, when he is isolated and cornered: the gangster exists to serve as a reminder that success always comes with a price, and that price is always death.
I struggled to understand the scene after Tony killed Gino; he left the building looking traumatized, sick, even intoxicated. Was he overcome by guilt that he killed a friend? Was he shocked because he discovered Gino and Cesca were actually married and nothing scandalous was occurring? Or did he realize he was wrong once he saw how devastated his sister appeared? One of the most compelling scenes of the film was when Cesca did not kill Tony and instead told him that they are, in fact, the same. I resonated to this scene as I was frustrated when Tony would mistreat Cesca for behaving the exact way he would. They were both flirts, stubborn, passionate, and independent. Although I am unsure if Cesca should have killed Tony, his manic acceptance of her fearlessness during their childlike reunion to kill the cops (when he was trying to make her afraid and ashamed throughout the entire film) was a powerful scene. I completely understand the censorship issues discussed in “The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface” as I was shocked by several of the scenes. For instance, when Tony opens the door to Cesca kissing the man or when he rips the strap of her dress and reveals her covered breast. While I agree with the director that censorship can violate the American right to freedom of expression, I was still surprised that these overtly sexual scenes were released in 1931. Another interesting recurring theme in mafia movies is not only a love interest that represents wealth and class, but her complete unawareness of the mafia man’s death. This was also seen in Public Enemy and it is essentially a loose end that is never finished, as if it was not important enough to complete (even though it is some of the most interesting plots of the films).
Like some of my classmates, I had not seen the later remake of Scarface before watching this original edition of the film. After watching, I did further research on the film and was surprised to see how this film resonated with society at the time. This movie sets a very clear foundation for mafia movies that would follow for decades to come. Its stereotypical principles which include an immigrant criminal, loyalty/betrayal, and an eventual demise characterize so much of this genre. I though that this film was unique, though, because it has a very different style than what we have watched so far. When I watched Scarface, it seemed much more raw and intense than other films. Obviously, it was more violent as well which led to censorship and anti-crime messaging in the film, but this seemed to create a main character which became a folk legend of sorts. It was interesting to see in my research how people became fascinated with sensationalized mafia characters like this, and how films like Scarface had to straddle a fine line when it came to a more bold and possibly “glorifying” representation of the mafia and criminals. Outside of this, this movie reflected so many of the ideas we have seen in class already through its character building and plot points. From the accent to the emotional reactions and relationships with family members, Scarface provided me with a lot of reinforcing information on early mafia movies and how they came to shape later films.
Before reading Hughes, Hawks, and Hays: The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface (1932) I had no idea that about a third of movies were affected by censorship during the 1930s. Firstly, I found the use of media particularly interesting both within the movie and in real life. In class, we discussed how in movies gangsters were viewed as successful when they were written about in local newspapers. This is evident in Scarface where an entire scene is dedicated to government members discussing whether or not prohibiting further newspaper publishings about the actions of gangsters will actually stop them from committing violent acts. With a roundtable debate and heightened emotions, the members at the meeting came to no concrete conclusion, which possibly speaks to the real life media representation of gangsters.
Did Scarface boost Al Capone’s perceived success as a gangster like gangsters in the movie felt when they were discussed in newspapers? Scarface was based on Al Capone. Hughes, Hawks, and Hays: The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface (1932) discusses how initially Al Capone was “concerned that the film was pressured into showing the criminal as unattractive.” He even went as far as to propose bans on gangster films in fear of defamation. However, after watching the movie, Al Capone actually enjoyed it and showed interest in it being played in Chicago, telling Hughes, “you can play it anytime you want” (Yogerst). After watching the movie, I believe it still paints the gangster in a negative light (despite the wholesome ending and commitment to family throughout the film). Thus, why did Al Capone’s opinion of the film change if it still painted gangsters as “unattractive”? Did his support for the movie mean that Scarface was a somewhat similar representation of real life gangsters, giving him positive press from the movie?
After watching the movie, I can understand the censorship, especially during a time period in the one this film was released. One of the concepts I’d like to focus on is the underlying message of the American Dream. Camonte’s rise to success is modeled after the American Dream just very obviously more violent. In the beginning of the film, we get a good look and first look at his face in the scene at the barbershop. He looks a bit foreign, with his hair slicked back and a somewhat Italian accent, and let’s not forget the scar. But, as the movie goes on, he becomes more Americanized as his accent seems to dim, and his suits become more fancy. By the end of the movie, his accent is hardly noticeable. Camonte obtains success through various ways such as through a high profile girlfriend, fancy cars and clothes, as well as a fancy apartment. Although Camonte obtains success and riches through violence and illicit activity, the gangster showcases that anybody can live out the American Dream by following his motto, “Do it first, do it yourself, and keep on doing it.” Moreover, the text explains how a lot of the talk and decisions to censor the movie were made because of the films violent nature, but many questioned the real meaning behind the need to censor. The text states, “Most of the gangster films of the day mirrored what was going on in the streets of major cities” (139). I believe that many people in charge wanted to hide the true reality of what life was like in the United States. This movie allowed people to see the true violent and insidious acts that were happening behind closed doors and by censoring this film, they were also censoring the truth.
First, I must commend the filmmakers for standing their ground and defending the film from censorship. I watched the film before reading the article or knowing anything about the censorship battles and at no point did I find Camonte a redeemable or likeable character. Like we discussed in class about Little Caesar, there is no portrayal of Camonte’s childhood which would open the door for sympathy. Instead, we see a man who is willing to kill to get what he wants which ultimately leads to his demise. The worry of the final shootout with his sister at Camonte’s side making him the underdog is undermined by the man we know Camonte to be and his final act of trying to run. In my view, portraying a style of life that leads to the death of you and all your close acquaintances is by no means glorifying.
One scene that particularly stood out was the conversation with the newspaper boss about stopping the coverage of the gang war. With the surrounding censorship battle, the news boss seems to be talking directly to the censorship board and the public when he says, “You’re telling me you can get rid of the gangster by ignoring him… you’re playing right into his hand.” This idea is emphasized when he breaks the fourth wall and looks directly at the camera when delivering part of this statement. This scene served as a defense of the movie and the filmmakers’ goal of portraying reality in order to inspire change.
Like some of my other classmates, one of the things I found most interesting about Scarface was the tension between its brutal depiction of gang violence and the moralizing efforts of the censorship boards. The reading highlights how the film was one of the most heavily censored in Hollywood history, with concerns that it glorified crime and made gangsters seem too sympathetic. Yet, despite efforts to frame Scarface as an indictment of gang rule, audiences were still drawn to Tony Camonte’s ambition and swagger.
This reminded me of Little Caesar, where Rico’s downfall is inevitable, yet he still commands attention. Similarly, Scarface never fully condemns Tony. He’s definitely portrayed as ruthless, but the film never makes him seem weak or pathetic. The reading even mentions how Al Capone, the real-life inspiration for Tony, initially opposed gangster films but later enjoyed Scarface. Maybe he saw something in the character that the censors feared because, despite everything, he remained captivating to watch.
One question I had was if censorship efforts backfire by making Tony even more compelling. If the goal was to deter audiences from idolizing gangsters, did all the controversy surrounding Scarface just make it more appealing?
I found it quite surprising that there were three separate versions of Scarface that made it to the theaters and- in spite of intense censorship measures and regulations- the public still saw the gory version that the government sought to destroy. However, I think that the film’s lack of censorship in such a conservative era is exactly what gives it its power and reinforces its message. Scarface ’32 is often discussed as a landmark gangster film, but the true significance lies in how it survived the intense censorship battle. In spite of the pressure to water the film down, Hughes fought back and ensured that audience saw a version of the film that retained its brutal realism and social critique. Had Scarface been clean, the message of portraying the violence and corruption of organized crime would have lost its impact. Rather than glorifying the gangsters, the film shows the dangers of pursuing such a life. The gore and brutality that people sought to censor are what make the film such a powerful statement for anti-crime. Ultimately, Scarface serves as proof that censorship can dilute meaning rather than enhance it. By resisting the pressure to soften its message, I think that the movie serves its purpose to a much greater extent and can more fondly live in the history books of mafia cinema.
The 1932 Scarface was the first Scarface movie that I had ever seen. Having never watched either the remake nor the sequel, I did not really have an idea as to what I was looking at before watching. All I knew was that it was a gangster film. I believe this gave me an opportunity to experience the purity of the original and allow me to better understand how the censorship was necessary during the film’s time. Given that I read Chris Yogerst’s “Hughes, Hawks, and Hays: The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface” after watching the movie, I can understand why the movie needed to be censored, especially given the era it occurs in. With prohibition being a prominent factor and gangster films gaining popularity, I found it interesting that a movie like this was even allowed to be released. Scarface is a particularly violent film, depicting all sorts of gang violence, shootings, and consequences that follow the idea that there are many ways in but no way out, especially given the final scene of the movie where Camonte tries to escape but is blocked off at every exit. I can see how the film is one of the most heavily censored films because with all the gun violence, disobedience towards the cops, and general lack of morality, the audience might begin to follow what the film portrays, leading to more chaos in an era already packed with mayhem. I do wonder about what would have happened if the heavy censorship of Scarface backfired and caused a more driven population that idolized Camonte and the gangster life instead of deterring it and making it seem repulsive.
The three movies The Public Enemy, Little Caesar, and Scarface have a lot in common. But the way they portray their protagonists differ in some ways that, to me, made me more empathetic towards Tommy in The Public Enemy. It starts in how the characters are introduced: Tommy as a smart aleck kid vs Rico and Tony as young adult hoodlums already. You see Tommy’s rough background and neighborhood which could make one more sympathetic to his taking the wrong moral path as lead by the “Dickensian Faganesque” Puffy Nose.
While all three are ruthless in their eliminating competition on their way to the top, their falls are very different. Tommy takes on almost a suicide mission against the Burns gang because they had shot down his buddy Matt, a crazy but selfless act. After he is shot by them, he gets kidnapped by that gang while he is recovering in the hospital. They end up desecrating his body and delivering it to his family home. He was killed by the bad guys and had his body disrespected and laid at the house of his mother and brother.
Rico’s demise is very different. First, instead of defending his buddy, he actually kills him. Second, his fall sends him to the gutter where he’s a bum in a flop house. Third, in his death scene, he’s hiding behind a sign and is killed by the police (the good guys).
Tony’s falling is much like Rico’s. He kills a good friend Ricardo for being with his sister, not knowing that they had been married. When the final shootout comes, he gets his sister killed, and then begs for mercy from the cops. Hardly an honorable way to go for a gangster.
So, Tommy was lead a stray as a kid, took revenge for the bad guys killing his friend, and died at the hands of the bad guys. Rico and Tony, we only meet as hoodlums who grew into gangsters, killed their friends, and died inauspiciously at the hands of the cops (the good guys).
After watching Scarface, the vast censorship efforts come as no surprise to me given the absurd amount of violence, as well as the glorification of the gangster lifestyle. Between the drugs, violence, language, etc. there are plenty of factors that resulted in this movie raising alarms. Now that I have context from the article and the movie, the most interesting thing to me is how the film depicts Tony, and how films depict gangsters in todays media.
The glorification of “the gangster” is something that I see all the time in modern film from shows like Narcos and Peaky Blinders. With this class giving historical context to the rise of mafia media it seems that Scarface really set the tone for that type of “violent gangster film”. While the movie definitely depicts what many would consider negatives of this lifestyle, Tony is still a dynamic character that draws the audience in, similar to the leads in the shows I mentioned. To add on, these modern shows that I mentioned aren’t actual mafia films, yet they both reflect similar values such as family, loyalty, honor, and revenge while representing entirely different cultures.
With that said, the censorship battle surrounding Scarface seems to have put it on an even higher pedestal than it would be without the censoring. Again, I understand why the efforts were made and there is certainly good reason for controversy, but the subject matter is just too popular to the masses. Thus, the extra publicity the film gained from the controversy may have helped it set the tone for gangster films for the following century.
While reading “Hughes, Hawks, and Hays: The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface”, I was thinking about how the efforts to control and censor gangster pictures seem counterproductive and might have even further perpetuated the harmful glorification of the gangster that they sought to prevent. Firstly, I think the censorship battle as a whole likely reinforced the culture industry’s creation of the gangster persona as a story of the American Dream because it further associates the gangster with an individual who fights against authority or unjust power structures and rises to power despite the obstacles he faces.
More specifically, the antigun sentiment around Scarface mentioned in the reading reminded me of the “moral crusade” of the producers that we discussed in class on Monday with regard to Little Caesar. This was a strategic move for the makers of Scarface because in blaming guns and pro-gun lawmakers for the crime that the film is based on, they can somewhat shift the responsibility away from the film’s gangster characters (and themselves, as the people who created these characters). In doing this, audiences could potentially identify more with the film’s characters, whose actions become a product of a context in which guns are readily available rather than their own ruthless criminality. When later watching Scarface, I felt the opening statement had this same displacement of responsibility away from gangsters themselves and onto lawmakers in its statement that the picture is an indictment “of the callous indifference of the government to this constantly increasing menace to our safety and our liberty” and in questioning what the government will do about it.
While reading “Hughes, Hawks, and Hays: The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface”, I was thinking about how the efforts to control and censor gangster pictures seem counterproductive and might have even further perpetuated the harmful glorification of the gangster that they sought to prevent. Firstly, I think the censorship battle as a whole likely reinforced the culture industry’s creation of the gangster persona as a story of the American Dream because it further associates the gangster with an individual who fights against authority or unjust power structures and rises to power despite the obstacles he faces.
More specifically, the antigun sentiment around Scarface mentioned in the reading reminded me of the “moral crusade” of the producers that we discussed in class on Monday with regard to Little Caesar. This was a strategic move for the makers of Scarface because in blaming guns and pro-gun lawmakers for the crime that the film is based on, they can somewhat shift the responsibility away from the film’s gangster characters (and themselves, as the people who created these characters). In doing this, audiences could potentially identify more with the film’s characters, whose actions become a product of a context in which guns are readily available rather than their own ruthless criminality. When later watching Scarface, I felt the opening statement had this same displacement of responsibility away from gangsters themselves and onto lawmakers in its statement that the picture is an indictment “of the callous indifference of the government to this constantly increasing menace to our safety and our liberty” and in questioning what the government will do about it.
I found it very interesting how Little Caesar approaches the mafia film genre. While many movies glorify the high paced lifestyle that gangsters live, Little Caesar uses Rico’s journey to highlight how ambition and individualism can lead to greed and isolation. While Rico is a criminal, he remains morally ambiguous, allowing the viewer to feel sympathetic enough to care about how journey, and how the mafia lifestyle is an alternative perspective of the American Dream. His ultimate downfall is visually represented through dark lighting and isolating imagery, as well as the narrative elements that cause it. I think that Scarface serves as a stark contrast to this, embellishing the charismatic and wealthy lifestyle of Tony Camonte.
While the film still ends in the downfall of Camonte, his rapid gain in power reflects the power that comes with becoming a criminal and using violence to achieve his means. The violence of the film draws many similarities with the way in which violence is mass produced and serialized in modern films, with many people drawn to the spectacle of a film that elicits striking reactions. I think that this film served not only as a successful portrayed of violence, but set a precedent for what could be expected from future mafia films.
Scarface exhibits brutal depictions of gang violence that rival many of the edgier films of today, so it is not remotely surprising to me that subsets of the more conservative audiences and critics at the time made a push for censorship in response. The film was released in the pre-Code era, wherein studios were expected to self-regulate to preserve Second Amendment protections on speech. However, Scarface received increased scrutiny, with many raising concerns about the potential glorification of gang violence (as it was a borderline direct depiction of Al Capone) and the broad lack of moral consequence in the film for criminal behavior. In response, multiple versions of the film were created with varying levels of violence and disclaimers. Despite these changes, many states completely rejected the film, resulting in Scarface’s legacy as one of the most heavily censored films to date.
Growing up, my friend loved this movie, so it’s interesting to learn more about its history as a tool to increase government involvement in the censorship of films. One question I have is this: how does the reaction to this film reflect the movement toward puritanism (especially with regards to criminal activity) during the Great Depression?
After watching Scarface, I was struck by how effectively the film explores the role of the mafia in American culture. Through Tony Camonte’s rise and fall, the film reflects the real-life influence of figures like Al Capone, who dominated Chicago’s criminal world in the 1920s and 1930s. Camonte’s ruthless ambition and violent rise mirror the mafia’s expansion, highlighting themes of greed, power, and corruption.
One of the things I found to be most apparent was the film’s critique of the romanticized image of the mafia. While Camonte is charismatic and his portrayal exaggerated, his unchecked ambition ultimately leads to his downfall, showing the self-destructive nature of organized crime. The film doesn’t shy away from depicting the brutality of the mafia, demonstrating how violence and betrayal are central to its operations. At the same time, it subtly comments on the societal conditions that allowed the mafia to thrive, such as Prohibition and the economic desperation of the Great Depression.
Ultimately, Scarface is not just about one man’s rise and fall; it is an exploration of how crime is both glorified and feared in American society. The film forces us to confront the darker side of ambition and how that leads to the systemic failures that enable criminal enterprises. By portraying the mafia as more than just a criminal organization, but instead as a reflection of lawlessness and corruption, Scarface remains a powerful and relevant cautionary tale about the consequences of unchecked power.
The 1932 Scarface film and its interplay with censorship in the pre-Code era are emblematic of the conflict between gangster-style movies and a movement against films that sought to represent the lives of real gangsters. As Yogerst explained, the film was caught in a prolonged struggle with the MPPDA, with producer Howard Hughes facing pressure to tone down the film’s violent portrayal of crime. The censorship battle surrounding Scarface illustrates the broader anxieties of the early 1930s including concerns about the glorification of gangsters, the impact of crime films on young Americans, and calls for more stringent regulation of Hollywood content.
As Yogerst points out, Scarface’s connection to Al Capone made it more controversial than other films because it was viewed as a film that engendered sympathy in the audience for real criminals and justified violence. The film closely mirrored real-life organized crime in Chicago and was argued by regulatory bodies to be a potential incitement to lawless actions.
Tony Camonte embodies the reckless ambition and downfall that is typical of gangster protagonists and reinforces Warshow’s description of the “American gangster myth.” While it was argued that Scarface would glorify crime, the movie also showed the true violence and ruthlessness of the mafia world that was fueled by poor economic conditions and prohibition. Furthermore, Camonte’s downfall shows that despite how much power an individual gains in the mafia world, the ambition and greed that enables such power is often what ensures its collapse. This was the typical gangster movie arc, but was more than a movie that glorified the. mafia. I wonder what the free speech movement had to say about the censorship actions taken by the movie regulatory bodies in the first half of the 20th century.
Like some of my other classmates, I have not watched the 1983 remake of Scarface. Going into this film, I did not know exactly what to expect, but it wound be being really interesting to see how it shared many of the similar principles we have explored that clearly build the foundation of future movies in this genre. In Scarface, the idea of an immigrant criminal with bold emotional reactions and family relationships is clear. What made this film unique to me, though, was the connection it had with society at the time. I did not know about the censorship around this movie, and was interested to learn why it contained anti-crime messaging at the beginning. The seeming sensationalizing of the mafia and colorful representations of crime/violence really stuck out to me in this film. These ideas made the main character, although stereotypical in many ways, a folk legend of sorts. To me, this film also stuck out because of the style in which it was filmed. It seemed a lot more raw and personal, which I think helped add to its intensity overall. (**my original blog post disappeared so I tried to rewrite it here as best as possible– hopefully the original shows up**)
The cost of greed. In The Godfather Part II, we witness Vito’s innate passion and endless desire for retaliation for the murder of his father, mother, and brother and his eventual rise to kill Don Ciccio and become the Corleone. In acting out of arrogance and obsession, these mafia bosses often are the cause of their own demises. It is a complex and engaging reflection on power and wealth and the corrupting forces that accompany them. Moreover, we see in Michael’s story that, despite becoming head of the Corleone family, he is more alone than ever. His brother betrays him (“breaking [his] heart”), assassins are sent after him, and even his wife decides to get an abortion because she doesn’t want to bring another Corleone child into the world. This is the true cost of revenge. It is messy and complex and never easy. Despite Vito being able to eventually achieve his goal, Michael’s aloneness is a true reflection of the real world. As Quentin Tarantino put it, “Revenge is messy. It never works out the way you want it.” While Michael was able to find the mole, he lost his brother and Kay in the process. What’s the point of success if there is no one to share it with? The Public Enemy, too, demonstrates the cost of violence, and Tom’s lifeless body being dropped off at his family’s house shows the inevitable consequences of these actions catching up to him. Moreover, in Poor Little Peppina, we see innocents who are caught in the crossfire and how greed can take countless tortuous forms (i.e., in Godfather Part III, Mary is killed instead of Michael–his ultimate punishment). With government crackdowns and rival gangs, a culture of “manoera” (as John Dickie puts it) bred a culture of messy and cruel revenge that would lead to wars of attrition in which each side would lose the things most important to them in the process of often achieving materialistic and immature goals.
The corruption of the American dream is a particularly interesting point in the films from this week. Witnessing Rico’s obsession with power and wealth that breeds paranoia and, ultimately, his death and seeing Tony Camonte’s incestuous fixation with his sister and desire to be number one leads to his brutal death; we see that crime indeed does not pay. However, it is this idea of the American dream that I found to be a point of contention. As Warshow puts it, the gangster is a representation of the dark side of the American Dream (the securing of power and wealth through immoral means) in a capitalist society that prizes ambition above all else and that this idea of gangster is, in fact, the truest form of success–albeit entirely individualistic. This dark American dream breeds endless fixations on power and wealth for these underdog immigrants and shows a duality to our traditional thinking of what success means. To the mafia, it means control through various means (financial primarily). For the traditional thinker, it means providing for oneself and their loved ones. While not entirely different, it is interesting that society in the 1930s (through Hays) tried to distance itself from these “immoral” crimes, even renaming the film Scarface: The Shame of the Nation. Perhaps the mafia interpretation of the American dream isn’t entirely wrong, but rather a brutally honest reflection on greed and capitalism. Perhaps our traditional view of the American dream is idealistic and morally silly. Perhaps the mafia view is an authentic view of the world and a recognition of the need to do anything to get to the top (what often actually happens). Regardless, it is interesting that in these films, the persistent message is that crime doesn’t pay and that these means will not be tolerated (despite the fact that violence and corruption were used to bribe and claim power in those times quite frequently).
One of my favorite little details in Scarface (1932) is how often the film sneaks in an “X” whenever someone is about to die. It’s cast as a shadow, formed by street signs, or even in the way things are arranged in the background. It’s kind of a weirdly modern touch, almost like a horror movie foreshadowing its kills, and it makes the whole movie feel more doom-laden than Little Caesar or The Public Enemy. Those movies focus more on the gangster’s personality flaws leading to their downfall, but Scarface takes it a step further—Tony’s fate feels like the world itself is setting him up to fail. Another detail that makes Scarface stand out is how completely unhinged Tony is about power. A lot of gangsters in early films want status or wealth, but Tony just wants to dominate—over his rivals, over his own people, even over his sister in the weirdest, most possessive way possible. It’s not just about money but instead it’s about control. This makes Scarface feel different from other early gangster films because it’s not just a crime story, instead it’s a full-on critique of excess, greed, and unchecked ambition. The film is constantly throwing in symbols of luxury like big cars, fancy suits, giant mansions but instead of making them look cool, it makes them feel hollow and dangerous. By the time Tony is holed up in his fortress, fighting off the world, you can tell it was never about winning. It was just about taking as much as possible until everything collapsed around him.
Howard Hawk’s Scarface (1932) portrayal of gangster violence sparked one of the most intense censorship battles of the era. As discussed in Chris Yogerst’s Hughes, Hawks, and Hays: The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface (1932), the film’s creators were forced to find new ways to imply rather than explicitly depict violence. Hawk uses fluid tracking shots, deep-focus cinematography, and expressive framing to enact dynamic storytelling. Scarface employs constantly moving cameras to mirror the restless, unpredictable nature of its protagonist, Tony Camonte. An example of this is the restaurant assassination scene, where the camera pans to the front door just before gunfire erupts. Rather than showing the violence explicitly, Hawks cuts to the victims’ horrified expressions and the shattered glass, maintaining the viscerality of the violence without having to show it on screen. This indirect approach allowed Scarface to maintain its raw intensity while avoiding explicit depictions of murder—an essential strategy given the scrutiny of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association and Will Hays. The Reign of Terror montage showing a collection of newspaper headlines, gunfire, and cups that show Camonte’s rise to power, exemplifies how Hawks used montage to suggest violence rather than show it outright–a crucial strategy in the censorship battle. The film and gangster films as a whole were also criticized for making their protagonists too charismatic. The film’s editing style underscores the consequences of criminality. The use of montage functions to deter from unchecked violence–giving it a moralizing message. The censorship battle over Scarface may have forced changes but it also pushed Hawks to refine his cinematography. Through inventive camera movement and rapid montage, the film managed to retain its intensity while sidestepping censorship.
Given the impact of the Production Code on Scarface, do you think the film ultimately critiques or glamorizes gangster culture? How does its visual style shape this interpretation?
The lawlessness and poverty in post-World War II Sicily provided ample opportunities for the mafia to reclaim power and influence. I thought that this idea of the American forces being so hyper-focused on the elimination of communism rather than corruption as a whole is particularly interesting. Operation Husky (the Allied Invasion of Sicily) was only successful due to the help of local mafia leaders, and it is a particularly striking dilemma to think that the American forces traded one evil for a “lesser” one. I also think that in the light of the war, we are able to see a different side of the mafia: a rebellious, anti-authoritarian group of freedom fighters. For instance, Salvatore Giuliano acts like a Robin Hood-style bandit, extorting landowners and giving proceeds to the poor and impoverished. While seemingly altruistic, let us not forget the Portella della Ginestra Massacre, which was supposedly perpetrated by Giuliano and his gang but was truly a warning to prevent further left-wing political success in post-war Italy. It is interesting to see the mafia involved in such political matters, and I wonder if the United States would have been (behind closed doors) supportive of Giuliano’s actions. These acts allow us to see a different side of history that is less black and white and provide us the chance to question the true intentions of one’s actions. Like Salvatore Giuliano in his banditry, was the United States truly pure in its intentions to rid Italy of the Axis forces and eventually communism, or was it just another grab for power and control? Nonetheless, it is fascinating to see the parallels between these seemingly completely opposite forces and how often the organizations we condemn the most have the most in common with ourselves.
One of the themes from class that I think can really be seen in this week’s Dickie reading and Francesco Rosi’s “Salvatore Giuliano” (1961) is the “myth” of the Mafia and the sensational over-dramatization of historical truth. As the reading shows, a clear example of this is the myth around the Sicilian Mafia’s resurgence during and after World War II.
One of the most enduring legends is that of Don Calo and Lucky Luciano, the imprisoned American mobster who supposedly orchestrated a deal with the U.S. government to assist the Allied invasion of Sicily. While no hard evidence proves Luciano personally set foot in Sicily or brokered a deal for his freedom in exchange for Mafia cooperation, he did collaborate with U.S. naval intelligence in New York. Nonetheless, this legend has provided a convenient way for many to shift blame for the Mafia’s revival onto foreign interference rather than internal corruption.
What is indisputable, however, is that as Mussolini’s government fell and the Americans dismantled the fascist apparatus, a power vacuum emerged—one that the Mafia swiftly filled. The postwar Italian government didn’t just tolerate the Mafia; it worked with it, cementing its power. This is the backdrop against which Salvatore Giuliano rose to prominence.
Rather than making a traditional biopic, Rosi presents Giuliano as an absence—his death a mystery, his role in politics ambiguous. The film explores how Giuliano, initially a bandit, became entangled in the violent political struggles of postwar Sicily, including the infamous Portella della Ginestra massacre. As this film and Dickie show, the Mafia did not just emerge from wartime conspiracies alone but from a deeply rooted system of corruption, political convenience, and calculated violence. The real history is once again different from cultural myths.
John Dickie’s War and Rebirth 1943-1950 from Cosa Nostra examines the resurgence of the Sicilian Mafia in the wake of WWII. He explores how the collapse of Facism, the Allied invasion of Sicily, and the postwar political instability created conditions that allowed the Mafia to regain power after being weakened under Mussolini’s regime. Francesco Rosi’s Salvatore Giuliano similarly addresses Sicily’s socio-political landscape, but through the lens of Salvatore Giuliano. Rather than following a traditional structure, the film shifts its focus to the circumstances surrounding Giuliano’s rise and fall, aligning with the conventions of investigative cinema. Rosi exposes the entanglement of politics and organized crime in postwar Italy, particularly the Sicilian separatist movement, the Mafia, and various political factions. Giuliano’s political maneuvering—his relationships with authorities, separatists, and Mafia figures—is given context by Dickie’s analysis of how the Mafia strategically aligned itself with Christian Democracy to suppress the rise of communism in Sicily. Both the film and the reading emphasize that the Mafia was not merely a criminal organization, but a systemic force embedded in politics, law enforcement, and the economy. Rosi’s portrayal of Giuliano as an elusive underscores this idea. The film rarely shows Giuliano alive, reinforcing that he was a pawn in a much larger system of power rather than an independent actor. This aligns with Dickie’s argument that the Mafia’s strength came not just from violence but from its ability to infiltrate institutions and integrate itself into Sicilian society.
How does Francesco Rosi’s fragmented, documentary-style narrative influence the audience’s understanding of historical analysis in the film?
In what ways did the Mafia’s resurgence after WWII depend on political alliances and systemic instability rather than individual criminal actions?
The Portella della Ginestra massacre is a pivotal event in both the film and Dickie’s historical account. How do different portrayals of this event shape our interpretation of who was responsible and why it occurred?
John Dickie’s War and Rebirth 1943-1950 from Cosa Nostra examines the resurgence of the Sicilian Mafia in the wake of WWII. He explores how the collapse of Facism, the Allied invasion of Sicily, and the postwar political instability created conditions that allowed the Mafia to regain power after being weakened under Mussolini’s regime. Francesco Rosi’s Salvatore Giuliano similarly addresses Sicily’s socio-political landscape, but through the lens of Salvatore Giuliano. Rather than following a traditional structure, the film shifts its focus to the circumstances surrounding Giuliano’s rise and fall, aligning with the conventions of investigative cinema. Rosi exposes the entanglement of politics and organized crime in postwar Italy, particularly the Sicilian separatist movement, the Mafia, and various political factions. Giuliano’s political maneuvering—his relationships with authorities, separatists, and Mafia figures—is given context by Dickie’s analysis of how the Mafia strategically aligned itself with Christian Democracy to suppress the rise of communism in Sicily. Both the film and the reading emphasize that the Mafia was not merely a criminal organization, but a systemic force embedded in politics, law enforcement, and the economy. Rosi’s portrayal of Giuliano as an elusive underscores this idea. The film rarely shows Giuliano alive, reinforcing that he was a pawn in a much larger system of power rather than an independent actor. This aligns with Dickie’s argument that the Mafia’s strength came not just from violence but from its ability to infiltrate institutions and integrate itself into Sicilian society.
How does Francesco Rosi’s fragmented, documentary-style narrative influence the audience’s understanding of historical analysis in the film?
In what ways did the Mafia’s resurgence after WWII depend on political alliances and systemic instability rather than individual criminal actions?
The Portella della Ginestra massacre is a pivotal event in both the film and Dickie’s historical account. How do different portrayals of this event shape our interpretation of who was responsible and why it occurred?
I found it interesting how both the movie and the reading explored how folklore shapes criminals into larger-than-life characters. While Scarface, Little Caesar, and The Public Enemy, portrayed how the mafioso elevates himself to a god-like mentality, Salvatore Giuliano illustrate how the public perception of the criminal creates an inflated view of his influence and power. By not showing Giuliano alive, the film moves the focus from his character to the actual impact of his actions on the surrounding town. Additionally, as the Dickie notes, Rosi highlights the irony of Giuliano’s stage death scene, specifically the coverup of his less-than-respectable murder. The choice to stage Giuliano’s death itself is illustrative of how both the mafia and government harness and manipulate the story the media tells to portray themselves in the position of power.
One thing I found particularly interesting was the US government’s collaboration with the mafia at the end of WWII, as well as how the fall of communism primed the rise of organized crime as a means of political control. However, the histories seem complicated by the unreliable retellings of events and the tendency toward aggrandizement over time.
Via both the film and the John Dickie reading for this week its particularly evident that the Mafia (in Sicily at the very least) was extremely malleable and constantly adapting to retain any of its influence within a much broader context. I believe that this constant evolution and adaptation by the mafia to leverage different political factions and organized groups in order to ground itself created a bit of confusion and blurred lines regarding on which side of history the mafia resided. I think this is also reflected in the film with the non-chronological story telling and the embedded ambiguity especially regarding Giuliano’s death. Another thing I found interesting about the film was how the mafia was never necessarily depicted as a juxtaposition to the authority and was very often seen operating as a tool for the authorities which blurs the lines between traditional authority figures and the mafia, revealing just how deeply corruption ran in Italian politics at the time.
I found the film Salvatore Giuliano to be an interesting contrast to the earlier American films we have watched the past couple of weeks. Unlike the other films which followed the lives of fictional characters in a linear manner, Salvatore Giuliano displays Salvatore’s life in a non-linear fashion, documenting his career all while Salvatore, as a character, is, for the most part, absent. Through the absence of Salvatore, the focus of the film seems to shift from just Salvatore and his life to the context in which he lived. This context–post World War II Sicily–was integral for the reestablishment and expansion of the Mafia in Sicilian politics and economics. As explained in the Dickie reading, all of the political shifts allowed for Mafiosi to strengthen connections with politicians, assume political roles, and control local economies. Additionally, the reading presents Salvatore Giuliano as an example of banditry that was resurging and ultimately declining in Sicily. The reading describes Salvatore as mythologized almost as a Robin Hood character. The mythological element comes across well in the film as Salvatore’s mysterious presence and influence reverberate throughout the town all the while he is almost untrackable and he is barely seen on the screen. It is interesting how, despite his absence, the film is still able to depict the potency of Salvatore’s actions as well as the tense relationship between bandits, the Mafia, and the government.
For Monday Feb 10th: While reading the chapter “War and Rebirth” by John Dickie, I found the legend of the Sicilian Mafia helping the American troops defeat the Italian Fascists in WW 2 to be very entertaining. This paints a picture of the Sicilian Mafia that is influential in politics but also innovative, resourceful, and kind as they are looking out for the people of Sicily. By helping the American’s invade Italy and take down the Fascists, as the legend goes, the Mafia was liberating the Sicilian people from the disparity that they faced under fascism. This legend is one of countless stories, myths, and legends that surrounds the Mafia in Sicily, in America, and globally. In class I would like to dive more into the how these myths and legends impact the idea of the mafia. As we have discussed in class, these myths are spread around towns and cities, published in newspapers due to the mystery, shock, and awe surrounding them, and then are eventually turned into famous pop culture movies and books. As discussed within the readings, the Italian culture is heavily impacted and swayed by conspiracy theories around WW 2 and has continued into folk tales and legends. How has the experience of fascism, the Catholic Church, and the mafia impacted myths and legends surrounding the mafia in Italy compared to the stories of the mafia within the US? Not only would I like to learn/discuss more about the impact of myths/legends/stories of the mafia in Italy and the US, but I would also be interested to see the connection between the myths creating an idea of the mafia and mafia members trying to rebrand the mafia image. This is discussed not only in the chapter but is also seen in movies like Godfather 3 where mafia leaders turn to politics as a form of rebranding the idea of what the mafia is, which has been influenced by myths and stories.
While reading the chapter “War and Rebirth” by John Dickie, I found the legend of the Sicilian Mafia helping the American troops defeat the Italian Fascists in WW 2 to be very entertaining. This paints a picture of the Sicilian Mafia that is influential in politics but also innovative, resourceful, and kind as they are looking out for the people of Sicily. By helping the American’s invade Italy and take down the Fascists, as the legend goes, the Mafia was liberating the Sicilian people from the disparity that they faced under fascism. This legend is one of countless stories, myths, and legends that surrounds the Mafia in Sicily, in America, and globally. In class I would like to dive more into the how these myths and legends impact the idea of the mafia. As we have discussed in class, these myths are spread around towns and cities, published in newspapers due to the mystery, shock, and awe surrounding them, and then are eventually turned into famous pop culture movies and books. As discussed within the readings, the Italian culture is heavily impacted and swayed by conspiracy theories around WW 2 and has continued into folk tales and legends. How has the experience of fascism, the Catholic Church, and the mafia impacted myths and legends surrounding the mafia in Italy compared to the stories of the mafia within the US? Not only would I like to learn/discuss more about the impact of myths/legends/stories of the mafia in Italy and the US, but I would also be interested to see the connection between the myths creating an idea of the mafia and mafia members trying to rebrand the mafia image. This is discussed not only in the chapter but is also seen in movies like Godfather 3 where mafia leaders turn to politics as a form of rebranding the idea of what the mafia is, which has been influenced by myths and stories.
Something that particularly struck me after watching Salvatore Giuliano and reading Dickie’s excerpt is how similar the movie was to real life. We have talked a lot in class about how movies often paint mafiosi in a bad light, causing negative stereotypes about Italian Americans. Though previous movies have aimed to tell the “true stories of the mafia,” they often fabricated stories, which possibly explains why Al Capone and other mafiosi proposed gangster film bans. However, this specific chapter discussed how details portrayed in the movie were relatively accurate, from Pisciotta being poisoned and Giuliano’s death being publicized vastly different from how people think he was actually killed. When did this shift occur in the media portrayal of the mafia, from attempting to paint the accurate story of the mafia to actually documenting reality? Was it due to more knowledge on how the mafia actually functioned given their connections to everyday life including politics and the police?
Should mafia movies even present true facts of mafia crimes? Though Public Enemy used allusions to reality, it used fake names and scenes for the movie plot. Alternatively, Salvatore Giuliano used actual mafia occurrences and names, seemingly presenting a historical documentation rather than entertainment. In all honesty, was it really necessary to employ a widowed mother to play the role of Giuliano’s mother and use the real bandit’s rifle? I’d say no. Did creating documentation-like movies of the mafia change the perception of Italian Americans or cause greater xenophobia? Though slightly different from what I’ve already discussed, Dickie also mentions how “This was a period when the comparatively extravagant wealth of many U.S. men of honour gave them prestige back in Sicily” (206). Did the mafias’ bolstered reputation in Sicily do anything for their reputation in the United States?
The part of the John Dickie chapter and the film, Salvatore Giuliano, that I found most interesting was Dickie’s comment on Francesco Rosi’s choice to only show Giuliano, the protagonist of the film, from behind or from an oblique angle. Dickie states that Giuliano appears in the film as if he were “an empty screen on to which the other characters each project their own version of the story.” He then states, “The truth about Giuliano lies not in the figure of the bandit himself, Rosi is suggesting, but somewhere in a tangle of relationships between the bandits, the peasants, the police, the army, the politicians, and the media. At the centre of that tangle was the mafia.” The figure of Salvatore Giuliano was more a construct of the public’s perception of him as he relates to the mafia, police, army, and socio-political context of the time rather than the facts of what he actually did. Along with this, as we see in the film, came a great deal of uncertainty and even mysticism. It seems that Giuliano was viewed by many as a hero. In the beginning of them film, the man at the juice stand claims “he took from the rich and gave to the poor,” and another man, while attempting to claim amnesty for his political crimes, states, “Giuliano fought for Sicily.” As we see in the film, not only in these quotes but also throughout the scenes in court, the complex Sicilian politcal and social context complicated public perception around figures like Giuliano as well as the mafia as a whole. After seeing the film, for instance, I understand why the average person living in Montelepre might have distrusted the Italian military and supported groups that were perceived as an opposing force. We see how soldiers raided the town, taking men away from their homes and families and put in chains due to the search for Giuliano. In this scene, we can recognize how the military becomes more of a threat than Giuliano himself. One man asks “for how long will we have to pay the sin of being born in Montelepre?” I can see how this setting could have given rise to mafia myths amidst the complexity of their situation and the “tangle of relationships between the bandits, the peasants, the police, the army, the politicians, and the media.”
Despite it being in Italian, after watching “Salvatore Giuliano,” I noticed how it challenges our typical Hollywood views of the Sicilian mafia. Unlike the glamorized portrayals we often see, this film presents a raw network of power relationships in post-WWII Sicily. What immediately struck me most was how Rosi depicts the intersection between organized crime, politics, and social movements. The film doesn’t give us a straightforward narrative about “good guys” versus “bad guys.” Instead, it shows how the bandit Giuliano operated in a gray area between different forces: the mafia, the separatist movement, and the Italian state. This also ties with the ideas presented by Dickie in his chapter on 1943-1950, where he explains how the mafia used a “perfect storm” of conditions to their advantage in order to rebuild after WWII. For instance, he explains how the mafia bosses actually hitched their wagon to the separatist cause as a way to regain power. They weren’t true believers – just opportunists using political chaos to their advantage.
The documentary-style approach also makes everything feel more real and unsettling. We don’t get the usual mafia movie tropes – no lavish ceremonies, no dramatic shootouts in restaurants. Instead, we see the everyday reality of how criminal power operates in society. The mafia’s presence is felt throughout the film not through stereotypical gangster scenes, but through
subtle political manipulations and social control. These subtle nods match what Dickie describes about how the mafia operated as “power brokers” in this period, mediating between different political forces while staying in the shadows.
What struck me most about Il Mafioso was how seamlessly the mafia blends into everyday life. It doesn’t function as a separate criminal underworld but rather as something deeply embedded in economic and social structures. In the movie, Nino saw himself as a modern, middle-class worker in Milan, far removed from his Sicilian roots. Yet, when he returned home, it became clear that his success was never truly independent. His factory job, his connections, and even his sense of identity were all subtly intertwined with the mafia. The film reflects what Peretti describes as the mafia’s deep entanglement with capitalism. The mafia doesn’t just survive alongside economic development but thrives within it. Nino assumed he left Sicily’s power structures behind, but it turned out the factory he works for had its own ties to organized crime, making it clear that mafia influence extended beyond the rural South. Even as Italy modernizes, Il Mafioso suggests that old systems of power don’t disappear, they simply evolve to fit new economic circumstances.
The film II Mafioso struck me as a commentary on Italy’s Northern and Southern divide, similar to our lessons earlier this semester. This felt most true in the characterization of Marta and Nino’s family. Building off of news clippings of Sicilian Italy at the time, the film struck a strong contrast between progressive Milan and rural Sicily. In Milan, Marta was used to wearing what she chose, smoking at dinner, and living a generally upscale life. In Sicily, she was stared at for smoking, looked out of place in her clothing, and seemed generally ostracized. The goal, it seems, was to draw a comparison between the North and South and, through Marta’s eyes, show Southern Italy as worthy of suspicion and generally unsafe and dangerous. There was great visual contrast between Nino’s family (i.e., clothing, demeanor, and customs) to show further this divide that Nino himself was completely unaware of.
However, Nino’s boss using him to send an item to the gang boss in Sicily showed the growing connection and influence of mafia groups outside of Sicily. This builds on earlier films that maintained mafia influence to Southern Italy.
Most Mafia films center around the rise and fall of powerful bosses, but Il Mafioso (1962) takes a different approach. Unlike the characters in Scarface or The Godfather, Alberto Lattuada’s film focuses on a pretty ordinary guy, Antonio Badalamenti, a Sicilian factory manager, who gets caught up in a world he thought he had left behind. The film blends comedy and crime, making it feel different from the typical mafia movie that we’ve seen, but its themes of obligation, loyalty, and capitalism’s ties to the Mafia fit right into what we’ve been discussing in class.
Luca Peretti’s reading, “Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960,” helps put the film into context. The early 1960s was a time of economic growth in Italy, with the North industrializing while the South remained more traditional and agrarian. Antonio, living in Milan, represents this shift, he’s a modern man, successful in business, and seemingly far from the influence of the Mafia. But when he visits Sicily, he’s pulled back into an old system where debts must be repaid, and favors aren’t don’t come without strings. The film highlights how the Mafia wasn’t just about crime but was deeply connected to economic structures, controlling business and labor in ways that shaped Italian society.
Watching Il Mafioso, I was struck by how the Mafia isn’t shown as glamorous or powerful like in American mafia films. The final act, where Antonio is forced to carry out a hit despite his respectable life, is chilling because it shows how deep these connections run. The film makes you question whether anyone can truly break free from the Mafia’s grip, a theme that still feels relevant in other modern organized crime stories.
In past classes, we’ve discussed how the mafia “hero” has been armed with ambition, entering the battlefield of the American Dream and not coming out alive due to this over-ambition. In Mafioso, we leave the states and go to Italy, a totally different economic setting as they were going through an enormous transformation Giuseppe Garizzo referred to as “Sicily-laboratory”. Taking advantage of such a vulnerable transition, the mafia infused itself within the power structures early on, becoming a hidden, core part of capitalism and life everywhere. This is seen in Nino’s journey as “the mafia and industrial capitalism emerge in the film as two hierarchical systems that impose violence on the weakest, on those who occupy lower steps in the ladder”. At the beginning, Nino reprimands employees at a factory that resembles that of Modern Times, a symbol of capitalism itself. Nino then visits his family in Sicily. The majority of the movie is non-violent. Nino settles into his hometown and gets reacquainted with old friends – all seems fine. Yet what Lattuada does is show how subtly present the mafia is – even when you aren’t seeing them. From the ties to the factory in Milan to the ties all the way across the Atlantic Ocean in NY (whose setting is portrayed from beautiful low shots to show the expansive city and convey the American Dream), the mafia is everywhere, inflicting their power over the vulnerable. When Nino becomes the vulnerable, Don forces him to perform a traumatizing murder, Lattuada using close-up camera work to give the audience a true sense of just how powerfully intimidating the mafia is. Don has gained his power through his great influence within the capitalist system as seen when Nino returns to Milan, with the truth of the foundation that his factory is built upon.
Alberto Lattuada’s Il Mafioso follows a factory foreman and his family’s journey from Milan to Scilily to visit his family, where they discover the family’s dark Mafia connections. The film is considered one of the most influential Italian comedies and, as noted in Luca Peretti’s “Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960,” highlights the relationship between capitalism and the Mafia. While watching the film, I was particularly struck by just how essential and important the Mafia is to capitalism. Even in the first scene of the movie in the Fiat factory, audiences are thrown into the world of Italy’s economic miracle of automobiles. In the film, the factory where Nino, the protagonist, works is owned by the Mafia, demonstrating the deep roots capitalism has to organized crime. In addition, I was drawn to the two very different realities the film painted: industrial Milan and a rural Sicily. The stark contrast highlights the economic and social disparities, but displays the Mafia as having power in both regions. What does each region represent in the larger picture? One of the social differences that stuck out to me was the placement of the bed in the middle of the house, when Nino and Marta arrived in Sicily. To Sicilians, this is a sign of status whereas more Northerners were concerned for privacy. The film also made me wonder more about how the Mafia differs in each setting, and how this factors into the movie as a transnational representation of organized crime, as seen in the connections to the United States. As noted by Peretti, “the mafia is, again, not the main subject of the film,” – to me, the film is more about Nino’s internal conflict and identity crises surrounding who he is in Milan and his Scilian heritage and background.
I found Il Mafioso to be an interesting film to watch because it was quite different from the trio of American films we watched–Little Ceasar, Scarface, and The Public Enemy. Unlike in those films, in Il Mafioso, the main character, Nino does not start as a bad guy. Rather, he seems like a good man who has worked hard to achieve success in life. He has moved away from Sicily, built a career, and married a beautiful wife. He seems quite blissfully unaware that he is intertwined in the Mafia and any criminal activity. It is only after Don Vincenzo requests that he carry out an assassination that he realizes he may have to do something immoral.
Unlike the main characters in Little Ceasar and The Public Enemy, Nino does not represent a criminal until the end of the film, after he kills the man in the barber shop. After this act of violence, Nino seems to struggle with his actions rather than successfully justify them to himself. This moral struggle highlights a key difference between Il Mafioso and the American gangster films; while characters like Rico and Tom actively embrace criminality in pursuit of power, Nino’s criminal behavior is arguably involuntary, reinforcing the film’s critique of the inescapable grip of the Mafia. Nino’s life also reflects societal tensions between modernity and tradition, as even after moving to Milan and joining the industrial world, he has failed to sever his deep-rooted ties to Sicily’s mafia.
Alberto Lattuada’s Il Mafioso follows a factory foreman and his family’s journey from Milan to Scilily to visit his family, where they discover the family’s dark Mafia connections. The film is considered one of the most influential Italian comedies and, as noted in Luca Peretti’s “Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960,” highlights the relationship between capitalism and the Mafia. While watching the film, I was particularly struck by just how essential and important the Mafia is to capitalism. Even in the first scene of the movie in the Fiat factory, audiences are thrown into the world of Italy’s economic miracle of automobiles. In the film, the factory where Nino, the protagonist, works is owned by the Mafia, demonstrating the deep roots capitalism has to organized crime. In addition, I was drawn to the two very different realities the film painted: industrial Milan and a rural Sicily. The stark contrast highlights the economic and social disparities, but displays the Mafia as having power in both regions. What does each region represent in the larger picture? One of the social differences that stuck out to me was the placement of the bed in the middle of the house, when Nino and Marta arrived in Sicily. To Sicilians, this is a sign of status whereas more Northerners were concerned for privacy. The film also made me wonder more about how the Mafia differs in each setting, and how this factors into the movie as a transnational representation of organized crime, as seen in the connections to the United States. As noted by Peretti, “the mafia is, again, not the main subject of the film,” – to me, the film is more about Nino’s internal conflict and identity crises surrounding who he is in Milan and his Scilian heritage and background.
Watching Il Mafioso was a refreshing change from the American gangster films. What struck me most was how it doesn’t glamorize the Mafia or make it seem like some kind of thrilling underworld. Instead, it discusses how ordinary people can get caught up in something much bigger than themselves. Nino isn’t some larger-than-life mobster, he’s just trying to live a normal life. He has a good job in Milan, a nice family, and seems to have left some of his roots behind. When he goes back home to visit, that’s when we realize he never escaped the Mafia’s reach at all. When Nino moves to the north, it represents Italy’s economic boom and the promise of better life, but when he goes back to Sicily, it goes to show that the past isn’t easy to shake off. The Mafia isn’t just a criminal organization there. It’s a symbol of tradition and loyalty. The humor in Il Mafioso is another thing that sets it apart. It’s not laugh-out-loud funny but there’s a subtle, ironic tone that makes the darker moments hit even harder. Like when Nino’s family in Sicily treats him like a hero for working in a northern factory, only to be casually reminded of a “favor” he owes a local boss. It’s a strange mix of pride and pressure. In the end, Il Mafioso isn’t solely about the mafia. It’s about the clash of old and new, tradition and progress, but also leaves you thinking about how much of our past we carry with us, whether good or bad.
For Feb 12: It was interesting to read and watch how the mafia played a key and central role in developing the economy of the country given the mafia’s humble origins in the countryside of Italy. First, I was surprised by how powerful the mafia was. I did not expect that through the expansive network of mafia connections (including overseas), they gave Sicilian citizens jobs, chances for economic growth, and class mobility. Through this, they were able to coerce them into practicing mafia traditions to “repay their debt”. It’s a very smart system for the mafia to remain in power. In the movie, Nino had to take on an assassination mission to repay the favor. While seemingly transitioning out of poverty and gaining class and dignity, behind it all, these workers were still tied down by Sicilian mafia’s history/tradition of violence and crime. This type of system is still in play in the modern day; it reminded me of situations where one might join a corrupt but successful company. The workers must throw away their morality in exchange for money, power, and stability of life, while carrying the shadows of their success for the rest of their lives. It was sad to watch Nino, a good man with morals, trying to live an honest life that strove upwards, but cannot escape their past and ultimately still committed the crime.
I thought the movie Mafioso(1962) took a different approach to the Hollywood mafia movies we’ve watched previously. Instead of the powerful, larger-than-life mafia gangsters in The Godfather movies or the reckless nature of Tony Camonte in Scarface, this film depicted the Sicilian mafia, showing how the mafia is not just a crime syndicate but rather an inescapable part of daily life. It’s not about a rise to power after all, it’s about being powerless. The main character, Antonio Badalamenti, wasn’t really a gangster at all. He is a hardworking factory worker who’s built a life for himself, but when he returns home to Sicily, he gets pulled into something much bigger than himself. What was most unsettling to me was how normal it all seemed. There was no dramatic initiation or sudden descent into crime but instead just a quiet, almost bureaucratic expectation that Antonio will do whatever is asked of him. It reminded me a lot of what we talked about in Salvatore Giuliano about how the mafia isn’t just an organization but a system embedded in Sicilian society that operates not only in the shadows but also in plain sight. I thought this tied into Peretti’s article well, which argues that the mafia didn’t disappear with modernization but instead adapted. The idea that economic progress would weaken the mafia was a myth. Instead, it evolved, using business and political connections to stay in control. This connects back to how we saw the mafia shift from rural protection in Sicily to urban crime networks in America. However, Mafioso makes it very clear that even those who leave aren’t ever really free. The mafia isn’t just something you can walk away from, it’s something that claims you, whether you want it to or not.
The movie starts off feeling like a dark comedy, but as the story unfolds, it slowly reveals itself as a quiet tragedy. Antonio seems like the perfect example of making a better life; he’s left Sicily for Milan, built a stable life, and adapted to a new life with his family. But the moment he returns home, his past reasserts itself. The Mafia isn’t just a shadowy criminal network here; it’s woven into the fabric of Sicilian society. When Don Vincenzo calls in a “favor,” Antonio doesn’t resist because resistance isn’t an option. His fate was sealed the second he stepped off the train.
What makes the film so unsettling is that it doesn’t frame Antonio’s story as an extreme case. His entrapment feels systemic. The Mafia operates like an extension of the economic forces that were supposed to liberate him, adapting and thriving alongside Italy’s postwar boom. His trip to America to carry out a hit, disguised as a business opportunity, mirrors how power works in the modern world: quiet, transactional, and inescapable. When he returns to Milan, nothing has visibly changed, but we know he’s not the same man.
Il Mafioso served to me as a means of exemplifying how Mafias as a concept could not exist without capitalism, and how mafioso is tied to the inner-workings of capitalism. Peretti, in Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960, explains that while many consider capitalism to be a concept juxtaposed to that of capitalism, the two actually work together and are intrinsically linked. When Antonio goes to Sicily, he realizes that the modern Italy that he is used to in Milan is a stark contrast to the situation in Sicily. Ran by the mafia, Sicily does not function through an industrial capitalist economy but a mafioso capitalist economy. Antonio believes that he is exempt from the reach of the Mafia, but ends up becoming involved when he wants to buy property and is almost thwarted by the seller. This can be seen as a metaphor for the belief that anything is separate from capitalism, including mafioso. When Antonio returns to Milan, he realizes that the Mafia still has an influence in his life even though he is no longer in Sicily. Peretti also shows how the mafia exists in a global capitalist structure. In the movie Mafioso, Antonio is tasked with carrying out a hit against someone in New York, so he has to fly overnight to take him out and then returns to Sicily, saying he was on a hunting trip. When they are in New York, they come across Sicilians and Sicilian-Americans, which exemplifies the global reach that the mafia has. The globality of capitalism allows the mafia to have a global hold. Being involved in trade and in transnational corporations allows the mafia a greater reach, and strengthens global ties between nations (however negative the implications of those ties may be.) The structure of capitalism also reflects the structure of the mafia, which Peretti discusses when he explains how the mafia infiltrates every level of society.
The Mafia’s ability to function within contemporary economic structures rather than outside of them was the most notable aspect of Il Mafioso (1962). Successful Milanese plant manager Antonio Badalamenti feels he has transcended the limitations of his Sicilian heritage. His return home, however, shows that his prosperity is not as self-sufficient as he had thought. The Mafia actively influences and gains from capitalism by integrating itself into sectors and international marketplaces, rather than merely coexisting with it.
In Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960, Luca Peretti examines how organized crime changes with economic advancement rather than going away. Even though Antonio considers himself a modern professional, his involvement with the Mafia implies that power structures change throughout time rather than disappear. In contrast, early gangster movies frequently depicted crime as a way to advance in society. In Il Mafioso, crime is not a means of achieving success but rather a duty, from which Antonio is unable to break free no matter how hard he tries.
The conflict between systemic control and individual agency has been a recurrent issue in previous talks. Antonio is dragged into crime despite his best attempts to stay out of it, unlike characters in classic American gangster movies who actively seek crime as a route to power.
For class on Feb 12:
Il Mafioso gave a much different impression to me than the films I had made blog posts about for previous classes such as The Public Enemy, Little Caesar, and Scarface. In this film, the structure of the mafia movie is presented differently, and some of the American stereotypes of the mafia do not appear at first. Looking at Nino, it is hard to see him as a mafia member in the same way as other films. It is clear that Nino does not believe this as well, given what we know of his life story before he finally becomes intertwined with immoral activity, to say the least. Although this was the impression created, the theme and principles of the mafia in society were present throughout the film. Unlike in the others, in Il Mafioso, the idea of the mafia is tied to everything socially behind the scenes, and Nino is not necessarily the bad guy/criminal who has a predetermined fate. I really enjoyed learning from this film, and it is interesting to relate it to Peretti’s writing which tries to explain the hold the mafia has on the structure of society itself. From industry, to relationships, and to power, the Sicilian mafia obviously had deeper roots than were shown to us in the past. Peretti’s writing and Il Mafioso reflect these ideas very well.
This was my favorite movie we have seen thus far! Our first male, mafia-involved protagonist who is, to his core, a good man. He loves his parents, wife, children, hometown- the most respectful character we have met in this class. Ironically, he is respectful to a fault, leading to his ultimate sin by the end of the film. Although many of the Sicilians were presented as uncivilized, I really enjoyed how the film emphasized the values of Sicilian culture rather than the values of Mafia culture. I especially liked Marta’s character, who was really trying her best to be supportive of her husband, even though she is a city girl at heart. When Nino is crying in bed at the end of the film, it reminded me about how Marta was crying at the beginning when she felt like she did not belong. As much as I liked his character, it was almost embarrassing how obsessed he was with Don Vincenzo.
I enjoyed the contrasts between Sicily and New York. Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism mentions how most of these scenes truly emulate the Western style of film, especially the change in music. I noticed that the physical touch in Sicily, even with Don Vincenzo, felt natural and part of the culture. Whereas the physical touch in New York felt uncomfortable or inappropriate with an oddly long kiss and strong squeeze of Nico’s knee. In previous mafia films, we discussed how the protagonists had a different accent when speaking English as to “other” them. This time, we see that with antagonists in New York with a strong American accent when speaking Italian.
It is interesting that Nico introduced Sicily to his family trying to convince them that it is, in fact, part of Italy, but he leaves feeling more disconnected than ever.
I found Peretti’s essay on “Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960” to be very informative, and reading it prior to watching the Mafioso film certainly gave me a perspective I think I otherwise may not have had. For example, one of the most important points I took away from Peretti was his argument that the mafia “is simultaneously an enterprise structured around traditional codes of conduct, and [extremely modern]” (246). This outlook was new to me because I had not necessarily associated the mafia with both of these somewhat competing ideals – traditional and yet modern.
In the Mafioso film, both of these elements were evident in seeing Antonio’s return to Sicily and his ties to his hometown mixed in with the mafia’s far-reaching influence to New York City. The importance of the setting was one of the most prominent elements of the plot that I think stands apart from some of the other films we have analyzed thus far. In the others, (Godfather II and III, Salvatore Giuliano, etc.) there were certainly scenes in which the setting was crucial, but in Mafioso, it seems that the setting is used as a primary catalyst for the plot. Peretti comments on this by saying “[s]pace and time are restructured in the film”, and I think there is no better way to encapsulate the importance of this film in the development of mafia cinema (248).
One question that came to mind, which is not related only to Mafioso and Peretti, is what kind of reactions mafia men had to these kinds of films at the time. Are they pleased with the publicity and mystification of their work (in an Al Capone-esque way)? Or is drawing the curtain back on the impact of their influence potentially detrimental to their business and interests?
Mafioso is almost three movies in one. It starts out as a romantic comedy with a plot that has been used many times – a man and a wife who come from different backgrounds introducing their spouse to their family and the different backgrounds creating some sort of comedic tension. The set-up is that he lives with his family in the big northern city or Milan. We have piano sequenza of the large factory that he works in as a respected supervisor and also of the city bustling with traffic among tall steel and glass buildings. The traffic adds to the anxiety of the big city as does him rushing his wife and kids to get ready to leave on vacation to Sicily to meet his family. We notice that his wife and kids are all blonde versus the dark-haired Sicilians. We also see his boss show some prejudice against Sicilians as he mentions that his work is as good as any Italian and even the Germans, showing that there were low expectations of Sicilian workers.
It’s still a comedy as they are on the boat to Sicily and he says “look at Sicily” and she responds “Italy is fading away” and then “Italy has vanished” when they get on Sicilian soil. We then get to the scenes in Sicily where his Sicilian family is notably cold to his wife – she’s blonde, her name Marta is not Italian, she’s dressed in cosmopolitan clothes, she smokes when she thinks the dinner is complete (even though it was only after the first course). She doesn’t feel at all at home in the backwards village of stone streets and houses where horse drawn carts are the main mode of transportation. It’s hot, they’re walking a lot, the sleeping arrangements are cramped, they’re turned away ay Don Vincenzo’s – nothing is going right and Nino promises her that they will leave early to see her parents in Bellagio – a fancy place on Lake Como. There are other scenes that show the tension as well. Throughout these scenes, the background music is light.
It starts to become a mafia movie at the 49:30 when Nino gets in the horse drawn carriage of Don Liborio. The music gets a bit more dramatic and darker. Liborio buys him a hat so he looks like they do. He takes him to the shooting gallery which Nino thinks is for fun but where Liborio is testing to see whether he is still a good shot, showing a sinister smile when Nino makes every shot, even the hard one of the string on the Marsala wine. We see that Don Vincenzo has done a favor for Nino and his family by interceding for them on the land purchase and getting the owner to go back to his original offer. Now Nino owes the Don a favor. And later Nino does it blindly as he takes up his long past and hidden role as a picciotto d’onore.
The movie moves to the US and becomes film noir. The music changes as they drive through the streets of New York and North Bergen New Jersey. You see shots of Nino looking up from the car at the skyscrapers along Broadway. He finally finds out what he has to do; and he kills a rival mafia boss and then makes the arduous trip in a crate back to Sicily. He has a flashback of hearing the gun shots while he lies in bed with his wife and starts to cry.
We then return to almost the exact scene from the start in the factory except played in reverse. Notably, when he gives the pen back to the clerical worker who signed him out for his vacation, the worker says the world would be a better place if there more people like him. Very ironic since Nino is now a murderer.
After reading the text and watching the film, it’s evident that a key theme was the mafia’s influence on capitalism and economic structures. Before speaking on that, I liked how, different to other films we’ve watched, Nino seemed like a perfectly ordinary guy, with a nice family and stable job. Yet, we soon find out that his life is nothing but ordinary. We believe that his stable life is due to his job working with cars and such but we learn just how deeply the mafia is embedded into his life. Once he returns back to Sicily and is forced into doing something completely against his character for the mafia, we come to understand how much the mafia has had a role in the life he is living. Although Nino believed he was away from everything involving the mafia, they were the critical component in why he was able to live the life he was living. And because of that, they were able to use their power and manipulate him into doing something he found wrong. We also learn that the mafia has played a key role in assisting the economy of the country. The mafia has a way of blending into everyday life and it survives by creeping into economic and social structures. The mafia doesn’t just blend into economic development, but it flourishes within it. Nino thought he was leaving the evil doings of the mafia behind in Sicily, but we learn that the mafia has influence that stretches far beyond Italy. Just like the text says, “Mafioso points to the relationship between capitalism and the mafia, and moreover, it posits that the mafia is one of the key elements in modern capitalism in Italy” (247). All in all, we come to understand that power systems don’t fade away with modernity, they simply adjust to the changing times to fit the new economic structures.
In the reading for Wednesday’s class, the author chooses to refer to the stories and cinema surrounding the mafia as having some folklore-adjacent qualities which made me think about how a lot of these films tend to frame Sicily to a non-Sicilian audience. A large portion of the reading focused on the transnationalism of the mafia business and how Il mafioso in particular plays with space and time in that the audience never sees detailed scenes or any discussions of travel in the film whether that be between Milan and Sicily or Sicily and NYC. The reading also highlights how the experiences in the varied locations, notably those distinct from the “home” setting that the film has established (Milan in this case), spur significant change in the character (i.e., Nino becomes harsher on his subordinates at work as a product of the violence he endured, enabled, and witnessed while gone from Milan). Both of these topics relating to a spatial divide in the mafia film are profoundly embedded in a lot of the mafioso and gangster movies we have seen, and I was curious as to what this might accomplish for a broader public unfamiliar with the mafia or Sicily. I would argue many of the films we have seen single out the Sicilian countryside for functioning as a sort of transformative venue for the mafiosi. Obviously this is the case for Nino in Il mafioso, but we see similar events with Michael when he flees to Sicily in The Godfather after killing a police officer in New York and even for Giuliano’s gang members when they travel from Montelepre to Portella della Ginestra for the massacre. Beyond the magic that lies in the beauty of Sicily, I feel as though such a representation of the island in popular culture would add to the folklore and mysticism of the region and the infamous organizations inhabiting it. I look forward to exploring this more and analyzing how the mystery of Sicily and its criminal ties can simultaneously fuel the mafia cult following and, as we see in early gangster films, be used to push political agendas and censorship standards.
Similar to Dominic, I began with the essay before watching the Mafioso movie, and found the themes covered in Peretti’s “Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960” to be enlightening for some of the undercurrents of the film. Before reading, I had some understanding of the Mafia as a socio-political and socio-economic metaphor, but the case studies helped me ground this understanding on a couple key pillars: the north-south divide of Italy and the interplay of industrial Capitalism and modernity with the traditions of the organization. The North-South divide itself feeds into themes on Capitalism and modernity, as the Northerners in Italy are portrayed as industrialists while those in the South are exoticized. When I watched the film, I found that it explored these themes thoroughly, as the film explores the Mafia as the transnational corporation it is, while also showing how that push for expansion and modernity clashed with the traditional values. One question I have is this: to what extent has modern technology facilitated further globalization of the Mafia, and to what extent has it served to fragment it?
I found the movie Il Mafioso to be a fascinating one. I felt as though it was very interesting how long it took for the movie to get to the crucial part involving Nino’s murder. With 30 minutes left in the film it began to bring to light the Mafia’s presence that specifically affected Nino after he was selected to kill for them. Throughout the film I felt like the beginning was more so to introduce Nino, his family, and then his home. Throughout this introduction, one of the most important parts was the location. While, yes it was important because it was a town in southern Italy, it was mostly important because it was Nino’s home – he felt extremely connected there. This showed the viewer the connection between Nino’s hometown, the mafia, and the world and the influence such a strong connection can have. The location of the movie was not only pivotal to the plot but it also built the mafia in a certain way. As the reading mentioned as well, this film presented the Mafia to have a transnational representation. I found this to be a very interesting way of showing the grand influence the Mafia had over many different places and people. I was relatively shocked to see the location he was sent to for this killing to be New York. I think this specific choice truly spoke to the way the Mafia was portrayed in accordance with mobility and capitalism across the world. The locations were the most important aspect of the movie and helped to be understood by the details in the readings.
I really liked how the reading for Wednesday’s class tied together and added to the movies this week. Following our discussion in class about Salvatore Giuliano, I liked how the author referred to him as a Christ-figure and after reading that I was able to better appreciate and understand the movie.
A few short notes: I liked how the author stated that the mafia is always with Nino even though he is far away and how precision is shown in two different contexts in the criminal south and the capitalist north. Another thing that constantly caught my attention was how Nino, when he was in Sicily, would always use “sunio” instead of “sono” which is the Sicilian equivalent to the word (a small but important detail I think).
In the opening scene of Mafiosi I noticed the long shot and the sudden focus on the protagonist after a montage depicting the assembly of a car. I also appreciated how the camera managed to keep him in focus despite all of the calamitous events that were occurring at the same time nearby him. When in closer dialogues and traveling scenes I noticed how the camera was subordinated to the character in fairly similar ways to Salvatore Giuliano. I also liked how subtly the traditionalist culture of Sicily is constantly presented as with the “bad” omens of rain happening as soon as they arrive and later when Nino crosses paths with a black cat.
I also really appreciated how the plot was advanced in subtle ways constantly as when there would be music changes when one of the mafioso characters would appear, the different camera angles that would show them looking with malicious intent. More specifically: when Don Liboro takes Nino to get a cap, he does not pay, and when he casually suggests a shooting game, he was just testing to see if he could still shoot accurately. In all of these cases, the viewer is able to see what our protagonist cannot. Additionally the mention of him being a piscotto d’onore is mentioned and the connection is drawn to how he managed to get his job in Milan.
With the religious elements, what stood out to me was when Don Vincenzo said, “May God’s will be done” but he is just referring to his own will. (There was also a crucifix on top of Salvatore Giuliano’s bed when he was shot). Lastly, the camera work in the end of the movie was building up to the climax with the fast cuts and the zoom when Nino and Vincenzo talk, as well as with the black screen and the voiceover with the transport to America. When in New York, the camera being low and showing the grandeur of the structures was mentioned in the article as being like a dream sequence which I completely agree with. I also interpreted symbolic intent with the tearing up of the letter that Nino was dispatched to deliver: a way of demonstrating how the mafiosi do not keep their words. To conclude, I liked how the movie has a quick resolution and shows him back where the movie started.
Having now read the article and watched Il Mafioso, I find that the article really helps illuminate the impact of of the time period that the movie takes place in. The article highlights the importance of the growth of capitalism in post-war Italy and how embedded the mafia was in this system. The movie shows this through Antonio’s vast experiences with the mafia throughout the film, showcasing the far reaching grasp of the mafia, as well as how much control and influence the mafia had on the capitalist system in Sicily. The article and the film do a good job of bringing together the mafia and capitalism to clearly show how the mafia made capitalism their own and took advantage of the opportunity to have substantial control.
It’s also interesting to look at the theme of the modern, and yet still traditional mafia as explained in the article. There is a clear juxtaposition between the traditional family values/way of life that the mafia lives and the modern growth of economy taking place at the time. In Il Mafioso, the film ties the two together in its portrayal of the mafia, as there are still traditional values being upheld while the organization is simultaneously becoming more modern and adjusting to the growing world and taking advantage of booming industries as well. Looking at the bigger picture now, this is a reflection of the Mafia’s historic adaptability that has allowed it to have so much influence on the world for such an extended period of time.
I thought the movie Il Mafioso was very interesting due to how different it is from all of the other movies we have watched so far. This film follows a character who grew up in Sicily but moved to Milan when he was a young man in order to have a fulfilling job and family. This film chronicles their family trip back to Sicily which he had left behind many years ago. Weirdly enough, this movie reminds me of a more recent movie called Grown Ups. This movie is about a group of childhood friends that get back together in their old hometown after years of being apart. The main character, Adam Sandler, is extremely successful and has a fancy wife from Milan. At first the wife and kids are uptight about their old traditions and way of living, but as they spend more time with their dad’s childhood friends they become more accustomed to it and end up liking it. This ends up going in reverse for Antonio because initially he only remembers the best parts about his old life in Sicily and forgets about the bad parts. He spends the whole first half of the movie trying to convince his family how amazing and wonderful Sicily is. In the end, however, he realizes that he can never escape the mafioso life that he left behind and he is dragged right back into it. He desperately wanted to forget about that part of his life but as we have seen with a lot of these movies it is extremely difficult to avoid it.
I wanted to comment on something stated in the article, which is, “And also, the two sides of Italy (North and South; poor and rich; modernized and traditional, etc.) are not separated anymore, as Nino’s (a southern) and his wife’s (a Northern) marriage demonstrates.” Although I agree in that they are more connected in terms of communication and transportation, I think the film also portrayed a great distance culturally among the North and the South through the character of the wife. When they arrive, the wife seems to be out of place, and she even says “I don’t belong here” while crying. This is also demonstrated when she asks about phrases they use at the table for example, “he sits,” which means he doesn’t work. I also thought it was interesting that he kept trying to hide the signs of violence and the Mafia from his wife, which I thought was possibly rooted in the idea that even Northerners had stereotypes against the Southerners and he didn’t want to perpetuate that stereotype.
I also wanted to further examine what the article said about Il Mafioso, which is that “it mimics and deconstructs the stereotypes of the Sicilian Mafia in order to offer a dark commentary on the nature of modern capitalism.” One part of the movie that very clearly portrayed this was when the man raised the price on the land and the father and him got into a fight. Afterwards, Nino says, “Why do they say Sicily’s uncivilized? It’s very civilized. We have to live up to that.” Not only is this ironic because he says this immediately after a fight broke out, but it also shows the choice to make a direct statement addressing preconceived notions of Sicily. The aspect of modern capitalism that I saw demonstrated from this scene is the idea that people in power can change the rules of the game for something as stupid as a “magic stick.” I see it as somewhat of an inverse view on the American Dream; a view that doesn’t praise freedom and capitalism, but shows how it creates greed and cheaters.
I thought the writing offered some interesting insights about the movie. Towards the middle of the chapter, the author explained that depictions of America and the mafia scene there is functional but “cold”, whereas in Sicily, the mafia is a tradition like family dinners and festivals that all form a “lovely mess”. Looking back at the films we watched that were primarily based in the US, there was a more cold and foreboding tone. The conversations that were had with people of great power were often tense. However, in Mafioso, Antonio spoke to the Don with joy and gratitude.
I also enjoyed some of the more surface-level observations such as the note about how Antonio and Marta are given the bedroom in the middle of the house because it is a sign of prestige for a Sicilian Family.
Something in the film that I found to be puzzling were the almost cryptic ways in which Antonio communicated with the Don and his workers. They never simply said “we need you to kill this man”. Every time it was discussed, there was so much effort put into dancing around the topic. They talked in metaphors and expressions like “mama orders and child obeys”. I wondered if this was accurate to how it would have been phrased (as it is a somewhat true story) or if it was so the movie could emphasize this was not a singular murder, but a part of something – or some tradition – that is much bigger than Antonio.
As the reading suggests, Mafioso captures the transformation of the mafia during the boom. Instead of dying with modernity, the mafia hides behind automation and new technology. On the surface, the modernized north and Sicily seem like completely different worlds. Cars and trains are swapped for horse drawn carts and donkeys. However, the present from the factory owner reveals that the two worlds are linked by the connection to the mafia. Even Nino believes he had left that world behind, but in reality he represents the transformation the mafia underwent to survive and grow. The final favor Nino performs reveals the extent the mafia has grown. What started in Sicily spread to Milan and even across the Atlantic to New York. In each city, the mafia finds a way to integrate themselves in the culture and lifestyle of the locale to assert their influence.
Overall, I found Mafioso to be a compelling film that portrayed the adaptation of the mafia and the economic overhaul of Italy clearly. Nino, representing Sicily, tries his best to move on from his shadier past. He moves to Milan. He marries a blonde wife. He works a factory job. But, in the end, the mafia stays with him the whole time. His boss at the factory has mafia connections, and he still is indebted to the mafia back home. When Nino returns to his job at the end of the movie, he, and Italy, realizes modernization will not end the mafia’s influence. If anything, their power only grows while becoming even more discrete.
After watching Alberto Lattuada’s Il Mafioso and reading Luca Peretti’s article “mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism in Italy Circa 1960,” I noticed that the themes about the mafia’s transnational reach and the influence of the mafia on capitalism were the film’s primary focus. Through Nino’s character, the film emphasizes Peretti’s discussion about how the mafia is not bound to Sicily, and instead operates worldwide from Milan’s industrial economy to New York’s crime. In the film, Nino starts out as an ordinary man with an ordinary job. However, when he revisits Sicily, we begin to find out how deeply indebted he is to the mafia. This reinforces a common trope with these mafia movies that there are many ways in and no ways out as relocating, in Nino’s case, does not guarantee your escape from it. The film also draws a similarity between the mafia’s operations and industrial capitalism because both require loyalty, precision, and value a hierarchical system. Additionally, the film portrays the mafia as deeply ingrained in the structure of society which provided social control and economic opportunity. I did find it interesting that the film used dark comedy to mask the horrifying reality of the mafia by presenting the mafia as an all-knowing, all-seeing force that rules over people and society with an iron fist.
Il Mafioso is a surprising take on the mafia genre, thriving on contradictions that make it compelling and reinforce what we’ve learned about the Mafia’s values. It blends humor with dramatic irony, particularly in Nino’s “fish out of water” predicament as an unwitting hitman. His wife, similarly displaced, struggles to adapt to Sicily, adding another layer to the film’s themes of cultural dissonance.
The abrupt ending is both darkly humorous and thought-provoking. While Nino is clearly traumatized by his actions, he resumes his life as if nothing has changed—because the Mafia needs him to continue working at the factory. His role is as mechanical as the system that exploits him. This reinforces Peretti’s argument that the Mafia is deeply embedded in Italian capitalism, controlling even seemingly ordinary livelihoods. The way Nino is shipped to New York in a crate further underscores his insignificance to them—he is little more than cargo.
The film also suggests that the Mafia’s reach extends far beyond Sicily. Nino’s blonde wife symbolizes outside influence, and his assignment in New York highlights their global presence. They have eyes everywhere.
In his essay Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism in Italy circa 1960, Luca Peretti discusses how films from this era , including Il Mafioso, reflect the mafia’s exploitation of Italy’s rapid industrialization and economic growth. Peretti argues that the mafia’s reach extended beyond traditional rural strongholds into the industrialized North, and matched the internal migration patterns of the time. This mobility enabled the mafia to integrate into the growing Italian capitalist economy and allowed it to infiltrate new markets and industries. In Il Mafioso, Antonio’s journey from the industrial North back to the rural South symbolizes this intersection of modernity and tradition. His initial perception of the mafia as a vestige of the past is transformed as he becomes involved in its operations himself. This underscores the organization’s deep influence across different regions and socioeconomic tiers. The film underscores the mafia’s ability to navigate and manipulate capitalist structures and use new economic opportunities to expand its power and control. Additionally, the marriage between Nino, a Sicilian who has built a life in the North, and Marta, a Northern woman, represents the collapsing divide between the two halves of Italy. Traditionally, the North was seen as industrial, wealthy, and modern, while the South remained poor, agrarian, and ruled by traditional power structures like the mafia. However, during the post-war economic boom, large-scale migration from South to North created a more integrated Italy. Nino’s role as a factory foreman in Milan exemplifies this shift in that he assimilated into the Northern work culture. Still, Nino, the ideal worker of the industrial North, is forced into performing a mafia hit in the United States. This demonstrated how the mafia’s influence extended across Italy and around the world. This theme matches Peretti’s argument that by the 1960s, the mafia had evolved alongside capitalism and used economic development as a tool to expand its influence. This makes me wonder whether the mystique of the mafia and its traditionalist culture is what truly drives its spread, or whether it is purely economic interest and the desire to accumulate economic power that enables the spread of the mafia.
The intertwined relationship of capitalism and the Mafia explored in Peretti’s essay is especially clear in the opening sequence of Alberto Lattuada’s Il Mafioso; the film opens with a montage of precise factory work, followed by an aerial, deep focus shot of the protagonist, Antonio, who inspects the quality of production. The first few minutes of the film introduce us to the economic boom in Milan, and we quickly learn how the factory Antonio works for is tied to the Mafia.
The modern, fast-paced world could not be more different than the “backward” Sicily he returns to, where picturesque landscapes are juxtaposed with a society still lacking modern economic development. As noted by Peretti, Nino returns to Sicily as a tourist, bringing parts of his new life, his wife and kids, into his past; I felt that this clashing of modernity and the past was evident through Marta’s character, who strangely changes her perception of the South by the end of the film.
The film takes a twist when Antonio is tricked and shipped off to New York for a job. The borrowing of film styles we discussed in class is especially prevalent during this sequence, with a return to the classic gangster film. Lattuada employs several low-angle German expressionist shots reminiscent of that we saw in Scarface, as well as several cityscape shots; we also see a return to the subjective, specifically when the roof of the car comes down (1:25:11) to reveal to Antonio the theatrical nature of Manhattan. The use of sound and language during Antonio’s trip to America is also particularly interesting, as we hear both English and Italian. After completing the job, Antonio returns to his sleeping wife in Sicily, and it feels like the trip was a blip in time. The film’s final moments bring us back to the mafia-run factory, with the last sequence of shots resembling what we saw at the beginning of the film, this time of Antonio walking away.
I found the article’s claim that the North and South of Italy are no longer divided to be interesting, especially in relation to Il Mafioso. While the marriage between Nino and his wife suggests a connection between the two regions, the film actually reinforces their cultural differences. Nino’s wife struggles to adapt to her new environment, feeling out of place and openly expressing her discomfort. Her confusion over local expressions and customs highlights how unfamiliar she is with Southern life. Additionally, Nino’s efforts to shield her from the Mafia and the violence around them suggest that he is either protecting her or trying to avoid confirming the negative stereotypes Northerners have about the South. This tension implies that, despite increased mobility and integration, a deeper cultural divide still exists.
I also found the film’s critique of capitalism particularly compelling. One scene that stood out to me was when a landowner arbitrarily raised the price of land, leading to a physical fight. Nino’s sarcastic remark about Sicily being “civilized” right after this conflict felt ironic and pointed to a larger commentary on power and corruption. Rather than portraying capitalism as a system of opportunity, the film presents it as one where those with power manipulate the rules for their own gain. This makes me wonder—does Nino himself believe in the stereotypes about the South? How does Il Mafioso compare to other Mafia films in how it portrays capitalism? And is the divide between North and South more rooted in cultural attitudes or economic structures?
Il Mafioso is such an interesting take on the mafia film because it doesn’t lean into the typical glorification of crime or violence. Instead, it’s almost absurd in how quietly terrifying the mafia’s reach is. Antonio, seems like he has completely escaped his Sicilian roots—he’s built a successful life in Milan, working as a factory manager, proud of his efficiency and modern mindset. But when he takes his wife and daughters back to Sicily for what’s supposed to be a relaxing visit, it becomes clear that he never really left. What stands out is how seamlessly the mafia asserts control over him, not through overt threats or dramatic confrontations, but through a quiet, almost bureaucratic process. His trip home feels like a series of small but irreversible steps toward a fate he doesn’t fully grasp until it’s too late.
One of the most unsettling moments is when he’s called in by Don, the local boss, and handed a task like it’s a normal favor between old friends. The tension isn’t in whether he’ll accept but it’s in the fact that there’s never even a question of refusal. The film makes it clear that in this world, there’s no such thing as free will, only obligations that were set in place long before Antonio even understood them. The mafia feels inevitable. That’s what makes Il Mafioso so different. The mafia isn’t shown as a thrilling or dangerous lifestyle, but as a system so ingrained in the culture that people don’t realize they’re trapped until it’s far too late.
After watching Il Mafioso, I was struck by the duality of our protagonist in comparison to previous films we’ve seen. Antonio was a relatable common man, working hard in Milan, excited to show his family his home. However, once he arrived in Sicily, Nino’s other side was revealed. The audience is initially aligned with Antonio, the devoted family man, the cheerful optimist, but soon find themselves confronted with Nino, the man forged by obligation and loyalty to an order. As time went on in Sicily, the contrast between Antonio and Nino blurred, and we could see his duality fading. Even the warm greeting from Don Vincenzo was marked by ominousness. The assassination he was forced to carry out marked the true death of his dual identity. Antonio, the cheerful, optimistic working man from Milan, ceased to exist. What remained was Nino, the mobster from Sicily. This transformation underscores one of Il Mafioso’s central themes: the paralyzing, perpetual nature of the mafia.
A key part of Lattuada’s success was his refusal to romanticize any aspect of the mafia. Unlike other films that depict the allure of a higher life, Il Mafioso strips away this illusion. Even mafia favors, often seen as tokens of respect and power, are presented with a grim, unsettling tone. If anything, the film romanticizes the simple, predictable life of the common man, a life that Antonio once had. Beginning the film with the modest Antonio relates the audience much more than a deified Don Corleone type. I think Lattuada additionally highlights the fragility of this seemingly ordinary existence, making the point that although less glorified, it must be appreciated
Il Mafioso examines the relationship between capitalism and the mafia. While we have brushed on this topic on class a few times, we haven’t taken an in depth dive into the topic. This did make me recall the Al Capone quote that we read in class—”When I sell liquor, it’s called bootlegging; when my patrons serve it on Lake Shore Drive, it’s called hospitality.” In other words, the mafia perspective was that while some of their business revolved around illicit substances, the government’s legal definition of right and wrong didn’t align with many members’ moral convictions.
In Il Mafioso, we are able to see two sides of capitalism. Antonio is a model for the corporate world, working in a factory in Milan. Everything is very by the book and Antonio is complacent in working for the system. The Mafia, however, has its own form of capitalism which reflects the more realistic world we live in. In this version of capitalism, there are unwritten rules, violence and coercion, and nepotism. This contrast also manifests itself through cultural differences between the north and the south. While the north is the industrial capital of Italy, thriving on economic progress and industry (which is symbolized through the factory in the film,) the south remains tied to tradition and unspoken power dynamics/relationships.
I want to preface that I will be going over the 300 word requirement for this reflection because I have a lot of thoughts I want to flesh out; sorry in advance. Having never previously watched the Godfather movies, I thoroughly enjoyed this movie because it clarified the plotline behind the characters. The Godfather movies, specifically Godfather I interchanges both intentionally separating business from family and having business and family work together. This causes me to question what the intention of the mafia members actually was. To separate business and family or have them work together? The first thing I found odd from Godfather I was when Vito was up in his office listening to people’s requests rather than celebrating his own daughter’s wedding. “The Supplement of Coppola” notes that the multitude of meetings on such a special day is intentional because Vito is more willing to do people favors to keep a positive mood. Additionally, when people came to ask Vito favors, they often exercised what “The Supplement of Coppola” defines as primitive accumulation or a supplemental action. They often started with the legal process to get their favor done, but when that backfired, they went to Vito. Most of their favors surrounded family concerns, furthering the idea that Vito’s “clients” were ok with mixing business and family when it would benefit their family and would get their family the justice they believed they deserved. Though these matters were in a private office (separating business and family), they still took place at a wedding (combining family and business) and surrounded family needs.
Another time when business and family seemed oddly intertwined was when Michael was at the hospital visiting his father and the police attempted to arrest Michael despite the fact that he wasn’t involved in his father’s business and had no previous record. This proves to show that though Michael once had aspirations to separate family and business, it was inevitably inseparable, dispelling his promise to Kay when he noted, “that’s not me Kay, that’s my family” while at his sister’s wedding. However, after Michael takes over his father’s business, it is interesting to see his ideals for separating family and business. Maybe this is to honor Vito’s legacy and prevent future generations from getting involved in business, just as “The Supplement of Coppola” notes Vito never wanted Michael to follow in his footsteps, or maybe it’s Michael’s innocence attempting to justify his murders and illegitimate business endeavors. At first, Michael promises Kay, “In five years the Corleone family is going to be completely legitimate.” Furthermore, Michael intentionally kills his brother-in-law after he becomes the godfather of the brother-in-law and sister’s child. Though he intentionally scheduled the killing after the holy event (which can be viewed as separating business and family) he still kills his own family member (which can be viewed as directly correlating business and family). I’m particularly curious about the real-life connection between the mafia and the mafia’s family. Is business intended to be separate from the family or intertwined?
Francis Ford Coppola’s 1972 film, The Godfather Part I details Michael Corleone reluctant dive into his family’s Mafia empire, which was led by his father Don Vito Corleone. In Carl Freedman’s article “The Supplement of Coppola: Primitive Accumulation and the Godfather Trilogy,” he discusses The Godfather trilogy in terms of primitive accumulation, Karl Marx’s theory of capitalism that states the process of separating producers from the means of production. The article argues that the film illustrates the violence and exploitation that is a component of capitalism. This is seen throughout the film’s depiction of the Corleone family’s violent actions. I found it very interesting how Freedman explains the “fall narrative.” He challenges the common interpretation, that I also had while watching the films, of a moral decline from Vito to Michael, particularly in the first Godfather itself. In the beginning of the film, Michael is an Ivy League Marine War hero who the audience would never imagine would descend into his family’s life of crime. However, by the end of the film, he is a ruthless murderer. This interpretation of the “fall” focuses on Michael’s escalation of violence, in contrast with Vito’s more traditional paternalistic family values: “Vito […] maintains a more aesthetically attractive persona than any of his sons can manage” (19), which was true for me as a viewer. I liked reading about Freeman’s interpretation of the fall – that Michael is not a departure from Vito’s methods, but rather a continuation – “Michael does nothing that Vito has not made possible” (20). I was intrigued by this re-framing of the fall narrative and how the audience can view Michael’s shocking transformation as a logical result of Vito’s ways, further highlighting the cycle of ongoing and inherent violence within the Corleone crime family.
Having watched Godfather 3 and now Godfather 1, I found the relationship between family and power to be a core theme of the trilogy and an interesting comparison between the two movies. Throughout the semester we have discussed the connection between the idea of the Mafia with family and power. In my opinion, The Godfather series does a good job of highlighting a core theme: the corruption of power on the family unit, especially with regards to the Mafia. Throughout all the mafia movies we have watched thus far, there has been a dichotomy between men turning to the mafia for fortune and power but demanding the rest of their family, especially mothers, sisters, and children be removed from the dark side of the “business”. In my opinion, this is where the downfall of the mafia members begins. It does not begin with killing or violence but begins in the separation of their lives, family and work. Especially with immigrant families that focus on the importance of family, there is no way to separate family and work without turmoil and distrust. The Godfather remarks on this idea as Michelle is removed from the mafia business in order to protect his innocence but ultimately is brought into the business to protect his father. This separation of life, becomes a double life that ultimately becomes the ruin of the mafia member. Within all the movies we have watched, by separating their lives into two worlds, each world ends up affecting the other and comes crashing down on the mafia member. Within The Godfather, the first film focuses on the rise and stabilization of the Corleone family and the third film, which we have already watched, shows themes of legacy, redemption, and the destructive nature of power to the individual and the family unit. I would like to reflect more of this idea within class: How does the separation of family and business cause the ruin of the mafia?
The opening is powerful and sets up the background of Don Corleone and what it means to be a “Don.” Poor immigrants coming to the United States at that time chasing the American Dream believe they will be greeted upon arrival at our shores by “official” America – the connected people and the bureaucracy, in other words the “Pezzonovante.” But Amerigo Bonasera learns that it had all been a farce. Bonasera had trusted in the law and order and he had prospered. He had felt, though being an immigrant, that he had accepted America and they had accepted him. The fallacy of this hit him when, in the trial of the boys who had beaten his daughter, the judge suspended the sentence of the boys, they got off scot free.
He was not fully American; he was not fully accepted. Is the Godfather a story about family immigration and assimilation as well as a story of one particular Italian mafia family? I think it is.
We see that as immigrants come to this country, they the lack power and connections of the more established people. The way, at the start, for the new immigrants to get a firm base in the country is for them collectively work together in their own communities. In the Godfather, they do this through Don Corleone. He leverages his power and connections to the benefits of his family, business family, and the community. This is seen repeatedly whether it is Bonasera, Nazorine, or Johnny Fontaine.
But even the Godfather, who believes that short-term success will come through relying on the “family” and the tight-knit community of immigrants, he knows that long-term, there must be assimilation into the larger American society. But you must attain power first so that entry into American society is done on equal terms with those already in it.
His plans for Michael were for him to be the son the crosses over to legitimacy. To attain that power first there needs to be a transition. We see that Michael made the transition very quickly. He eschewed his father’s connections to keep him out of the war and enlisted. He went to an Ivy league school. He’s dating the most WASP girl ever. Michael was going to be the “legitimate” Corleone and live the American Dream. He wasn’t involved in the family business.
But then due to Sonny’s inability to keep his mouth shut, the Don is attacked. Sonny further digs a whole for the family by allowing his temper and rashness to put him in a situation where he gets murdered. This pulls Michael unexpectedly into entering the family business. Even though Sonny and the other men in the family teased Michael about being a college boy, Clemenza says “we was all proud of you for being a hero and all, your father too.” Later, the Don, when talking to Michael in the garden says “I never wanted this for you. …I work my whole life – I don’t apologize – to take care of my family, and I refused to be a fool, dancing on the string held by all those bigshots. I don’t apologize – that’s my life – but I thought that, that when it was your time, that you would be the one to hold the string. Senator Corleone; Governor Corleone.” Both Don Corleone’s and Michael’s dreams were dashed by the industry of violence.
One theme that I noticed throughout the Godfather movies and that was noted in “The Supplement of Coppola: Primitive Accumulation and the Godfather Trilogy” is the way that the Don is never able to fully enjoy any family milestones or events because he is always taking meetings throughout them. At the beginning of The Godfather, this can be seen when the wedding guests queue to make requests of Don Vito and even at Vito’s funeral when Tessio pulls Michael aside to set up a meeting with Barzini. In this way, the Don never truly gets to enjoy all of the joys he has worked for because it is always tainted by business. This inability to separate business and personal life on days when most people’s work would be last on their minds highlights the unique tragedy of becoming the head of a crime family. The supplement notes how in all three Godfather films, the Godfather granting requests is a key part of celebratory gatherings as a way to keep the good spirits of the event. In this way, the Godfather is forced to sacrifice his own celebration in order to keep others happy, and they take advantage of this fact, maintaining a cycle that keeps the Don in his office and away from his family. This can be seen, in my opinion, as a metaphor for how the mafia business drives Michael away from his family.
Having never seen Francis Ford Coppola’s “The Godfather”, I thoroughly enjoyed watching it after I had read Carl Freedman’s : “The Supplement of Coppola: Primitive Accumulation and the Godfather Trilogy”. We have previously discussed in class the connections between the mafia and capitalism, and how the mafia is a direct result of capitalism, so it was interesting watching the movie through that lens. It was very explicit the way that Coppola displayed how violently extortionist capitalism is, and how the perils of the mafia parallel those of capitalism. While the mafia displays physical and immediate violence, the violence of capitalism can be a bit more subtle. Freedman explains that Karl Marx defines primitive accumulation as “a process of staggering disruption, fraud, theft and violence” (9), in which the rich commodify land and labor and force the peasantry to earn what was previously their right. This is how capitalism took hold in the first place, replacing the feudal economies of earlier societies, and is similar to the structure of the mafia. Freedman describes an iron line between legality and criminality, and how the laws under a capitalist society exist to draw that line to prevent capitalist ownership to be viewed as criminal. Because of this, he is able to draw a connection between the luxury of criminality that Don Corleone and other mafiosi experience and that of the luxury of acts that are deemed non-criminal by capitalist laws, but would be criminal without those distinctions. He explains that the definitions of legality established by capitalism as being born of the unilateral abrogation of property and contractual rights and on brute physical force. Don Corleone blurs the line between crime and legality, with his many political and judicial connections that he flaunts throughout the film, similar to what capitalism does. Don Corleone participates in acts of violence and in bribery, which both toy with the law and with justice as a concept.
Reading the Freedman article and rewatching Godfather Part 1 led me to think a lot more about the significance of the opening scene of the film. After watching the movie for the first time a few months ago, I remember questioning the importance of that opening scene, as it felt like Bonasera’s anecdote and the subsequent action taken by Don Corleone’s men was not a significant part of the plot throughout the film. Rewatching the film for a second time now, I was much more attuned to the way in which the theme of America is conveyed through this scene, as described in the Freedman article. Seeing this scene again, I think the story expressed by Bonasera almost serves as a sociopolitical commentary on the influence of the mafia in the US. The situation depicted in the opening scene reflects a man who is, like Don Corleone, an Italian immigrant who attempted to get justice for what happened with his daughter in a legitimate way by reporting the crime to the police “like a good American.” However, we learn that nothing was really done, and the boys are now walking free with no punishment. In order to truly restore justice, Bonasera must turn to what Freedman refers to as “a much older and more personal kind of authority.” Here, the mafia serves as an organization that exists almost above American law and order. I also find it essential that the film starts out with this exchange of favors that is characteristic of mafia operations, at least in mafia movies. Historically, mafia movies have shown the exchange of favors (with the purpose of upholding this unique kind of law and order) as a currency in its own right. We see this in Il Mafioso, as the returning of a favor for old mafiosi friends is what leads Antonio to New York. This exchange of favors is unique to the industry of violence, as favors carried out often involve the use of violence to restore order or justice in some way. By opening up the film with this scene that is centered around such a favor, America, and the failure of the American legal system to restore order in Bonasera’s situation, Coppola almost suggests that this currency of violent favors is what enabled the mafia to thrive as an organization, particularly in the U.S. context that is, in some ways, almost equally corrupt.
Bonasera’s opening monologue in The Godfather establishes the American Dream as a myth—one not built on honesty and hard work, but on violence, greed, and exploitation. The film’s lingering impact is unmistakable—the loss of innocence in Michael’s eyes and the degradation of a once-proud family. Yes, Michael has settled all family business by the film’s end, but at what cost, and by what means? As Freedman describes, “Michael does nothing that Vito has not made possible.” Vito foresees the exact plan their enemies will use to kill Michael, and Michael’s response is swift and ruthless, driven by power and greed, with little regard for his family’s honor or well-being—evident in his calculated decision to have Carlo killed.
In this regard, Vito and Michael differ drastically. The initial conflict, sparked by Vito’s refusal of Sollozzo’s deal, highlights the qualities that make Vito a more successful man, Don, and patriarch than his sons. From a purely rational standpoint, accepting Sollozzo’s proposal—despite its moral compromise—would have been the obvious choice for anyone seeking to maximize wealth. Yet, Vito values intangible qualities such as honor and the “friendship” he preaches throughout the film over financial gain. As a true Sicilian, his word holds more weight than it does for his spoiled children.
Vito embodies the ideal Don, balancing sweetness, strength, and ruthlessness. However, none of his sons inherit all these qualities. Instead, they are fragmented across his children: sweetness in Fredo, strength in Sonny, and ruthlessness in Michael. Vito’s guiding principle is clear—family comes first. In contrast, Sonny and Michael’s actions dismantle the family. One can only imagine Vito rolling in his grave upon witnessing Michael murder Carlo.
The Godfather (1972) is indeed a masterpiece; the emotional performances of Al Pacino and Marlon Brando and Coppola’s narrative structure and stylistic choices made this film unparalleled to the previous two films we’ve discussed in the trilogy. The film opens with what Freedman asserts as an introduction to the several motifs central to the trilogy, with Bonasera begging Vito Corleone- who is surrounded by the many figures that take part in his organized system of crime- to help him after the American justice system failed to honor his daughter. It was interesting to consider how significant Coppola’s choice was to start the story with a character who plays no critical role in the overall narrative of the film, immediately highlighting the immense power and influence Vito Corleone has. These business affairs occur during the wedding celebration of his daughter Connie, revealed through the use of parallel montage: bright and happy scenes of a religious celebration are juxtaposed with the dark study of Don Vito Corleone petting his cat. This use of parallel montage is also apparent and – in my opinion, most noteworthy- during the film’s final moments, when we see the baptizing of Connie’s child intercut with several murders by order of Michael, the new Godfather. Once again, Coppola juxtaposes a religious event with the violence of the mafia and organized crime; it is deeply ironic how a moment is supposed to be sacred and pure, and it is one of the most violent moments of the film. What’s even more striking is how, by the end of the film, Michael lies to his wife, Kay, about killing Connie’s husband- another sin he has committed. This sequence of murders is followed by the closing of the door and Michael’s descent to become the cold murderer we would see realized in the second film.
The movie How to Kill a Judge combined classic mafia movie themes like family and the press connecting to the real world while not being a traditional mafia movie. The whole time during the movie, the audience was set up to believe that this was a classic mafia film. I thought during the movie that the judge must be corrupt and it was probably the mafia man that had the most to lose from the judge going on trial that killed him, however that was not the case. It was found out by the end of the movie that the wife had ordered the doctor who she was having an affair with to kill her own husband. The theme of family is always very strong with mafia movies and it is usually the case where the mafia boss claims that he cares very much for his family but ends up neglecting them due to business duties. In this case it was his wife that turned on him which is not the normal for this type of movie. I also saw throughout the movie that Solaris’ movie was impacting what was happening in real lfe. Since the movie was such a big hit and it was modeled after the judge, everyone thought that the judge was corrupt. It was revealed at the end of the movie that this gave the wife the idea that her husband was not invincible and everyone would believe that it was a mafia man that killed him since the movie was currently popular in theatres. I really enjoyed the movie because it was different from everything we have seen so far. The general structure mafia movies follow is a mafia boss that gains power and then meets their downfall by the end of the film. For most of the time we were led to believe that this movie followed a similar structure, but the ending twist revealed that it was all part of a bigger plot to cover up the affair and child that the wife of the judge had. The killing in the end had nothing to do with the mafia.
Since I first saw it, I have always ranked The Godfather (1972) as my favorite movie of all time. I truly believe that no other movie is its parallel on the subject of dialogue, cinematography, action and plot. The ease at which the plot advances is seamless, with no unnecessary deviations that bore you. What always comes to my mind is in the opening scene when Michael introduces Tom Hagen as his brother to which Kay asks about Hagen having a different name and Micahel not only explaining Tom’s background but also revealing the idea of consigliere to the viewers. As for Bonasera’s opening monologue, I think it’s perfection. The fade in from black and the long take is amazing. Furthermore, I think that it sets up the purpose of the mafia and how Don Corleone got so powerful. By indebting people, he could call in favors from all sorts of professions when it became useful to him. We see this pay off when Vito calls upon Bonasera to prepare Sonny’s body. In the opening monologue alone, we see who operates at the core of the mafia: the boss, his son, and his consigliere (also his son).
We already discussed in class how his speech is emblematic of the American dream and its failures, but I don’t agree. I think it more accurately depicts a failure in American justice, and is not a criticism of the Dream itself. To expand on that subject, why does Bonasera go to Don Corleone? “For justice”. It was justice that was not given when the judge suspended the sentence, we do not know the reason why, but for the sake of the argument we can assume that it was prejudiced. Bonasera still successfully set himself and his business up of being a mortician, he assimilated and therefore succeeded in the dream. When it came to justice, it failed for whatever reason. I believe that Coppola is making a criticism of the American justice system and in many cases how it fails to deliver on its main purpose which is the reason why these underworld organizations are able to thrive. They deliver the justice that the government cannot. They enforce Hammurabi’s code “an eye for an eye”, the type of vengeance a father will absolutely want for his daughter’s attackers.
I think that you could probably teach a semester-long class on just the Godfather and still not have enough time to talk about it all. I wanted to talk briefly about a moment in Michael’s character development in the first half of the movie (right until the death of Apollonia). When we are introduced to him, Michael is the outsider: he went to college, and then fought in the war and has no part in his dad’s business. But slowly, due to circumstances outside of his control, he adapts to a new role that he must play to save his family. The pivotal moment for Michael is when he is in the study with Tom, Sonny, Tessio and Clemenza shortly after the hospital encounter with McClusky. We see Michael adopt a different demeanor, when he suggests that he kill Sollozzo and McClusky, the viewer sees that Michael means it. His eyes are cold and we see a killer being born. The only one in the room that does not laugh when Michael says this is Tom, because he also recognizes that Michael is not messing around. This is the turning point in Michael’s development and where we see him fully embrace his calling. This scene is further supported from the previous scene where after Mike and Enzo scare off the would-be assassins, Enzo’s hands are shaking while Michael’s are still, indicating that he is calm under pressure (since he served in the war). The final nail in the coffin of the old Michael is when Apollonia dies. Her death marks the death of the innocence of Mike and marks the birth of Don Corleone.
Damiano Damiani’s How to Kill a Judge (1974) offers a critique of the Italian judicial system, portraying it as an institution that is susceptible to corruption and external influence. The film’s narrative mirrors the Dickie reading, where the Mafia infiltrates legal and political institutions to maintain power. At the film’s beginning, it is assumed that the murdered judge was corrupt, like his depiction in Giacomo Solaris’ fictionalized portrayal. This perception suggests that the justice system is not neutral, but rather open to influence. The investigation of Solaris reveals the instability of the justice system where justice is more a perception than a reality. The judicial system as shown in the film closely reflects Solaris’ construction, not a transparent institution but a malleable mechanism which can be dictated by outside interests. The systems designed to uphold the law become open to intimidation and violence. Dickie similarly details that the Mafia controlled judicial outcomes in Sicily through bribery, coercion, and violence. As shown in the film and Dickie’s reading, the judiciary system is an extension of corruption. Justice in the film and in Dickie’s reading suggest that it functioned more as an illusion (complicit in or susceptible to corruption) rather than a functioning system.
Does How to Kill a Judge suggest that corruption is inevitable, or does it leave room for the possibility of reform? How does this compare with Dickie’s historical perspective?
These mafia stories provide both a disillusioning and romanticized view of the American Dream. The opening line of Godfather Part 1 is, “I believe in America.” This line is said by Bonasera, an immigrant whose daughter is later killed. Time after time, we have witnessed the death of innocent loved ones. From Mary in Godfather Part III to Cesca in Scarface, it is often women and innocents who bear the brutal consequences of their family’s businesses. As Freedman puts it, this perspective, a viewpoint of the hardships that come with violently achieved success, is an apt summary of capitalism. Following Marx’s ideas, Freedman believes that this violent and extortionary nature of the mob is the purest form of the American dream and is integral to the definition of capitalism. Vito’s bloody rise to power (in Godfather II) that follows him taking over and dismantling existing “institutions” for his personal gain and vendetta is a perfect example. This idea of “primitive accumulation,” a blind and endless chase for material success, follows previous discussions we have had about the true (and unachievable) nature of the American Dream. However, while this stories have grim and gritty aspects (i.e. the amount of people slaughtered in the streets from Sonny to Judge Traini), they also hold a certain whismical nature about them. Whether it is Solaris’ life mirroring the film or the baptism scene in Godfather Part I, these tales are both cautionary and fictionial. They portray the real consequences of immoral climbs to power and how the mafias are in fact following the only possible way to achieve the American Dream. But the real question arises in the worth of this dream. In the Godfather Trilogy, we see Michael’s loss of morality (through his anchor Kay) and transition into a mob boss. What worth is success if you have no one to celebrate it with? This fantasy of the American Dream is in fact a grim and sob tale of unrelenting ambition that breeds violence and destructive and more often than not, impacts the innocents in the story–perhaps a fitting metaphor for the cost of capitalism.
Damiano Damiani’s How to Kill a Judge (1974) and John Dickie’s The Origins of the Second Mafia War (1970–1982) both discuss a period of unrest and brutality within the Cosa Nostra. The film and book both draw from the extensive corruption and factional infighting that marked this time. Dickie’s work describes how the Corleonesi, under the leadership of Totò Riina, systematically murdered their mafia opponents to in order to amass more control of Sicily. Unlike others before it, this war escalated into what Dickie refers to as a mattanza, a massacre. Riina ordered the assassinations of many prominent mafiosos like Stefano Bontate and Salvatore Inzerillo as well as judges, politicians, and anyone else he viewed as a threat. His war path ultimately forced the Sicilian government to respond, culminating in the Maxi Trial of the 1980s. How to Kill a Judge responds to this period through its portrayal of a filmmaker investigating the assassination of a judge. The film depicts a Sicily where crime and politics are virtually indistinguishable. The protagonist’s pursuit of the truth mirrors the actual struggles of judges who worked against the mafia. They, of course, became targets as they exposed the collusion between organized crime and the Sicilian government. Both the historical events covered in Dickie’s text and the film expose that the mafia’s influence extended beyond just what we know on the surface, infiltrating both corporate and governmental institutions at every level. Under Riina’s rule, Cosa Nostra evolved from a loose network into a rigid, almost army like structure.
The reading for this week was an amazing supplement to the incredibly thrilling film How to Kill a Judge. Reading Dickie’s segment first gave me a glimpse at similar themes discussed in prior classes at just how strategic the mafia was in gaining power through adapting to environmental changes. To combat the growing apprehension towards their criminal organization as word of their existence spread, they began to thrive “by infiltrating the legal state and twisting it to its own purposes.” It was extremely vicious and engrossing to see just how they manipulated parties and those in governmental roles, such as when they kidnapped Moro for 55 days. Viewing the movie, however, gave a clear, visual representation at just how potent the mafia was that no words could ever portray. As Solaris began his investigation on the corrupt prosecutor’s murder, more twists appeared that threatened his life as well as his friends’ (the bombing of the publication station as well as the brutal motorcycle killing cemented the criminal organization as truly unscrupulous for me). The pure existence of the mafia hovering over Solaris’ head, causing him to be unable to fully trust anyone with all the information he obtained, was enough to motivate so much of the enthralling plot. What did strike me, however, was the ending when it was revealed to be Signora Traini and her lover who killed her husband. This made me rethink the film’s themes and perspective towards the mafia. Could Damiani be suggesting that there are other powerful influences (love?) that could be even more dangerous than the mafia itself? Or did he just want an interesting plot twist to throw audiences off? Regardless, he did a great job at showing the corruption of the judicial and political system as they bent to the mafia’s control.
This movie was shocking! Out of all the mafia films we have seen, this felt the least “mafia-like.” If anything, it aligned more with a traditional sense of justice, whereas other mafia films often blur the line between vengeance and justice. Interestingly, the political figures in this film were far more villainous than the mafia. I found it compelling how Solaris begins the film as a well-liked character, connected to everyone—mafia figures, journalists, and police officers alike. His likability allows him to use his connections to advocate for truth and justice. However, by the end, his mafia friend is shot dead, the journalists feel betrayed by his pursuit of truth over their business interests, and his police officer friend literally shuts the door in his face. Yet, despite being left completely alone, Solaris stands by his choices, refusing to stoop to the judge’s level of corruption.
I was thrilled to finally see a female lead with actual significance to the plot! As her role grew, I found myself respecting and rooting for her—even hoping for something between her and Solaris. And then, just when I was fully invested, she betrayed me! I was hurt. However, the character I felt for the most was the young boy, clearly neglected and left with no parents. Mafia movies are interesting in this sense as they will open the door for a potential plot, but then never fully explore it. Many of the films end with me pondering, “what ever happened to that character?”
After reading Carl Freedman’s analysis of The Godfather trilogy, it’s become a little more clear how Coppola’s films can be read as a metaphor for the development of American capitalism.
Freedman argues that the trilogy, particularly through Michael Corleone’s transformation, mirrors what Marx called “primitive accumulation”, or the often violent process through which capitalism first establishes itself. Just as early capitalists used force to create the conditions for “legitimate” business, the Corleone family’s journey from street-level crime to corporate power tells the story of American capital’s evolution.
What strikes me most is how the trilogy portrays this transition. In the original movie, we see relatively straightforward criminal activities – protection rackets, gambling, and bootlegging. But by the third film, the family is deeply involved in international banking and real estate. Michael’s attempt to legitimize the family business by investing in the Vatican bank isn’t just about respectability, but also a way criminal or “dirty” capital becomes “clean” corporate wealth. This idea can be connected to the baptism scene, where at the same time that Michael becomes godfather in church, his men eliminate rival gangsters across the city. Freedman suggests this sequence perfectly captures the violence underlying supposedly legitimate power. Just as early capitalism required force to establish itself, Michael’s rise to corporate legitimacy is built on bloodshed. Having now watched the full trilogy, I can confidently say that it’s not just a family saga or a crime-based triller, but a story about how power transforms itself: from the street corner to the boardroom.
After reading John Dickie’s analysis of ‘The Origins of the Second Mafia War,’ I’ve developed an odd sense of awe for the mafioso industry. Luciano Leggio was pursued for years, made money off of murder, and made economic decisions for political gain. Despite these slimy motivations, I still find myself contemplating the business acumen of successful mafia men. Despite suffering from several health issues and being ‘on the run,’ Leggio pursued a business of livestock breeding as a front for his operation, primarily to rival his boss and control his mafia empire. It makes me curious as to what drives him to such plots; is it greed, pride, or just pure competition?
Based on film portrayals, it seems like it’s a combination. What drove Rico in Little Caesar was a mix of ambition, fear, and pride. Rico wanted to be the top dog in the big city. While these aren’t traits reserved for Mafia men, plenty of businessmen have them too, what sets the Mafioso apart is the cyclical nature of how the mafia keeps them entangled and the lengths bosses are willing to go to get to the top. Through a mix of horror and awe, I observed the story of Luciano Leggio.
I hate to get political, but I must be honest, I only got part way through the Supplement of Coppola article by Freedman before stopping in disgust. I like some of his insights about the movie. But when he delves into economic systems, he loses me. My life experiences tell me that his Marxist/Socialist slant is wrong-headed and might only work in his theoretical mind. This is not to say that capitalism is a perfect system. Willi Schlamm said “The problem with capitalism is capitalists, the problem with socialism is socialism.” So, yes, bad people/organizations – the Mafia – can take advantage in a capitalist system, but that doesn’t mean the system doesn’t work. The Mafia, as we know, can be brutal, but they’ve killed a lot less people than marxism/socialism/communism.
I traveled throughout Eastern Europe in October and November of 1989 (I was at the Berlin Wall when it came down) during the unraveling of the Soviets’ grip on those countries. I traveled throughout the Soviet Union in 1993 during their constitutional crisis. The erosion of basic living conditions would be shocking if they happened in the west. There was a widespread lack of food and some of what was available were below our standards. I lost 24 pounds in 30 days traveling the Soviet Union because even in the government selected hotels for foreign travelers, there was a lack of food. In 1993, I was the General Sales Manager for Procter & Gamble in charge of the former Soviet block countries. Even in Eastern Europe four years after the Wall came down, living conditions were poor. One of the things that propelled the increase of living conditions was investments from foreign firms that paid better wages, trained local people, worked to improve local infrastructure, etc. In 1994, I was put in charge of the Balkan region of Europe, from Moldova across to Slovenia. The rapid improvements in living conditions were stark in comparison to what they were previously from access to information, entertainment, mobility, health care, etc. Spare me the Marxist rhetoric.
I thought the movie How to Kill a Judge (1974) presented an interesting critique of Italy’s legal system and its entanglement with the Mafia. The film follows a director named Giacomo Solaris, whose fictionalized portrayal of a corrupt judge becomes real when the judge is suddenly assassinated. As Solaris investigates, he uncovers a system that intertwines crime and justice. I thought this film tied into the reading really well, as well. In chapter 6 of Dickie, He wrote a lot about how the mafia historically operated not just through brute force but through deep political and judicial entrenchment which I thought applied well to this film. I thought this film also built on themes from Salvatore Giuliano. Like Salvatore Giuliano, How to Kill a Judge avoids traditional gangster stereotypes and instead exposes the Mafia’s role in state corruption. Rather than trying to glorify mob violence, the film instead reveals how justice can be manipulated, something I saw in Il Mafioso where the Mafia’s influence stretched across both traditional and modern economic systems.What makes How to Kill a Judge stand out is its focus on the media’s complicity. I felt like The Godfather romanticized Mafia power, shaping public perception, whereas this film challenged the filmmaker’s role. Solaris’s work both reflects and influences real-world violence. I thought this also aligned with the reading from Alice Maurice’s reading on early Mafia films constructing racial and mythic stereotypes.
The Mafia thrives on controlling narratives, whether through media or violence. How to Kill a Judge follows a filmmaker whose exposé on judicial corruption collides with reality when the judge he critiques is murdered. His investigation reveals that power in Sicily isn’t just about crime—it’s about perception.
The Second Mafia War operated the same way. The Corleonesi eliminated rivals quietly, shifting power without making it obvious. Like in the film, those who seemed in control were often pawns in a larger game. The Mafia’s silence and misinformation were as dangerous as its violence.
Both stories show that exposing corruption doesn’t guarantee justice. The war led to government crackdowns, and the filmmaker’s work had unintended consequences. In the end, those who control the story hold the real power—until the system itself forces change.
I noticed strong parallels between Dickie’s description of the transformation of traditional Mafia structures and hierarchies in the early 1970s and the breakdown of order depicted in How to Kill a Judge. Dickie talks about how the traditional Mafia hierarchies, ones rooted in family, territory, and honor, underwent a violent transformation in the early/mid 1970’s. For the most part, younger, more ambitious gangsters, like the Corleonesi, rejected the precedent and norms of the past, utilizing brutalized, extreme violence as methods. A power vacuum emerged amongst the internal conflict, instability, and changing of the guard.
Similarly, we see traditional systems of power and order abandoned in How to Kill a Judge, leaving uncertainty and chaos. Although not part of the mafia, the judge’s assassination represents the failure of the familiar, traditional systems to establish control and order. Just as the Mafia’s shift created a vacuum of power in Sicily, the judge’s murder leaves a hole in the legal system, one quickly filled by corruption, manipulation, and violence. Both the historical account from Dickie and the film depict societies that show us the erosion of traditional structures and how their absence leads to a wild-west-esque, morally decaying power grab.
I think there is something to be said about the protagonist’s role as a witness to horror here. When the protagonist sees the judge get assassinated first hand, it feels anecdotal to the innocent Sicilians caught in the internal crossfire and collateral of the Second Mafia War. Dickie describes a period where many ordinary citizens suffered in a climate of fear and instability. We see further similarities as our filmmaker in How to Kill a Judge emulates this described dynamic, unwilling to assimilate to the new order and forced to navigate a new norm. In similar fashion to Rosi’s other movie, our protagonist’s misfortune is the storytelling tool to explore and investigate the corruption.
The film How to Kill a Judge offers interesting insight into the Mafia’s infiltration into the judiciary system. Giacomo Solaris directs a film that sheds light on the corruption of a judge who, at the end of his film, is murdered. Because the judge in Solaris’s film closely resembles a judge in the reality of How to Kill a Judge, he receives pushback and there are calls to get rid of the film, meanwhile much of the public vocalizes support for the film, celebrating the death of the judge on-screen. This reminded me a little bit of the censorship battle surrounding Scarface and that one of the issues was the allusion to Al Capone. To me it is interesting that How to Kill a Judge portrays how impactful cinema could be in evoking a variety of responses from the public. Additionally, I found it interesting how the plot seemed to fade in significance throughout the film. In the beginning, Solaris is concerned with exposing the corruption of the judge. After the judge’s death, he is concerned with investigating the killer. As Solaris continues to investigate, he uncovers just how deep the corruption runs within the judiciary system, meanwhile the plot of the film gets more confusing and the killings increase. This feels to be reflective of the time being portrayed–a somewhat mysterious and deeply interconnected mafia along with an increase in violent crimes.
There are a couple key connections between the article and the film that I found interesting this week. First, I think the role of judiciaries is important to highlight due to the main plot of the movie being focused on the assassination. Dickie speaks on this a little bit in the article and the violence and fear that is placed on anti-mafia judges and lawyers throughout history is reflected in this film very clearly.
The film and article also highlighted the intertwining of the mafia with politics and how the mafia has used violence and manipulation to create control and influence within political systems. This is coupled with the increase of violence that was very characteristic of the second mafia war which was discussed in detail in Dickie’s reading. This violence was due to a change in mafia culture and custom in which tradition was sort of thrown out the window in some ways and replaced by new forms of more extreme violence to achieve organizational objectives. The film didn’t specifically hit on this as far as I could tell, however gaining political influence through the assassination of a judge is more extreme than many previous methods we’ve seen in this course.
Overall, I feel that this article puts the movie into better perspective based on the timeline of changes within mafia structure and how these changes resulted in a more violent form of the mafia as a whole.
Both How to Kill a Judge and the Cosa Nostra reflect how the mafia have embedded themselves into political and legal institutions as a way to maintain power. How to Kill a Judge explores the intertwining of the mafia and judicial system. The film also reflects real-life tensions that were occuring in the 1970s when the mafia had deeply infiltrated politics and law enforcement. In Cosa Nostra, Dickie explains how the Sicilian mafia evolved and included key events like the Second Mafia War. The war which was led by Salvatore “Toto” Riina and the Corleonesi faction, resulted in the systematic elimination of rival mafia bosses and many public officials including judges Giovanni Falcone and Paolo Borsellino. This second war reshaped how the mafia was able to centralize power especially at the hands of the Corleonesi family. So, the movie was able to connect how the killing of a judge in the movie also reflected real life and how the mafia was killing off anti-mafia magistrates to maintain their power and inflict fear in other people. Dickie also explained how the mafia was able to maintain power and sway outcomes through the judicial system with things such as violence and coercion. Both the movie and reading showcase how the judiciary system can be corrupted by the wrong people and functions more as this symbol of upholding the law when in reality it can be the complete opposite.
How to Kill a Judge is an self-aware film, in that it blends fiction and reality in a way that feels unsettling, especially when viewed in conjunction with the real history in Cosa Nostra. The film follows a filmmaker who makes a movie about a corrupt judge, only for that judge to be murdered in real life. This immediately raises questions about accountability, truth, and whether exposing corruption can actually change anything. Considering what was happening in Sicily then, this wasn’t just a fictional storyline but mirrored real events.
By the 1970’s, the Mafia had embedded itself in politics, law enforcement, and the judicial system. Anyone who tried to fight back, like Judge Scaglione, for example, was eliminated. Cosa Nostra highlights how Corleonesi under Leggio and Riina, launched a campaign of extreme violence to tighten their grip on Sicily. Judges, politicians, and Mafia members who didn’t fall in line were killed.
The movie also raises the idea that exposing corruption doesn’t necesserily lead to justice. Vitale in Cosa Nostra serves as the perfect example. His testimony was dismissed and was institutionalized instead of taken seriously. The mafia didn’t just rely on violence but also making sure no one believed those who spoke out.
What makes How to Kill a Judge so unsettling is that it doesn’t provide a clear resolution. It leaves us with questions of: if the entire system is corrupt, does revealing the truth make any difference? Is silence the only real option?
Both “How to Kill a Judge” (1974) and Dickie’s “The Origins of the Second Mafia War 1970-1982,” hone in on the infiltration and interaction of traditional power structures by the mafia. In the film, we see a judge assassinated in a way that directly parallels the real-life events–such as the direct targeting of activists, such as Peppino Impastato–and individuals in opposition to the mafia, such as whistleblowers. Additionally, we observe similar levels of institutional complicity in the film as Dickie mentions in this chapter: judges, politicians, and businessmen span not only turn a blind eye to but actively participate in mafia operations, such as facilitating the drug trade or strong-arming those opposed to it.
Additionally, the chapter and the film both underscore the transformation of the mafia as we get nearer to the 21st century–where early movements across Sicily exhibited feudal structures, the mafia discussed here further resemble their American counterparts with their centralized, ruthless enterprise. With that, I am left asking the following question: to what extent didmodern technology facilitate this transition?
The movie “How To Kill A Judge” was exciting to watch. I had never heard of this film before, but I found it very interesting because of its investigative format. The idea of the film as a self fulfilling prophecy involving the mafia was quite fascinating especially in combination with the readings for today as well. John Dickie highlighted the origins of the second mafia war as a brutal internal conflict within the Sicilian Mafia. This conflict extended beyond the Mafia itself to include politicians, judges, and journalists investigating the Mafia as targets as well. I felt as though “How To Kill A Judge” depicted the internal conflict of the Sicilian Mafia such that John Dickie explained. It was an interesting parallel between this particular story and the internal conflict the characters were challenged with such as justice vs. corruption as well as truth vs. self preservation. I thought that this reading allowed me to understand the film on a deeper level by understanding historically the conflict at hand. I also found it extremely interesting that at the beginning of the film it states “The events, characters, and names in this film are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people, facts, and events is unintended.” When I first read this I was a bit confused but after watching and reading the works for this class, I was able to understand that this was likely to protect the film makers, actors, and everyone else involved.
What stands out most to me in How to Kill a Judge and Dickie’s text is how resilient corrupt systems are. Even when they’re exposed, they don’t just collapse, they adapt. It seems as though power shifts hands, but the structures that allow corruption to thrive remain intact. The film and historical events illustrate this cycle, showing how deeply embedded these systems are and how difficult they are to dismantle. Even when individuals attempt to challenge corruption, they often face insurmountable obstacles, whether it’s personal risk, institutional inertia, or outright retaliation. In the film, the Judge’s assassination is not just about silencing one man. It is about protecting an entire system. The protagonist starts out believing he is making a documentary about justice, but as he digs deeper, it becomes clear that the lines between law and crime are blurred. I think a similar pattern appears in Dickie’s book with Leonardo Vitale, an early Mafia informant whose testimony was dismissed because authorities refused to take him seriously. Even when the truth is out in the open, it rarely leads to immediate change. The system simply reshapes itself to absorb the damage, ensuring that those in power remain protected while dissenting voices are ignored or eliminated. Both narratives highlight the challenges of holding power accountable. The Mafia’s shift under the Corleonesi, where violence became the primary tool of control, shows how corruption is not just about secrecy. Without real consequences, these systems seem to escalate. The film and historical record both suggest that exposing wrongdoing is only the first step and that lasting change requires something more like actual mechanisms that prevent power from reshaping itself into new forms. Otherwise, corruption remains a cycle rather than a problem that can ever truly be solved.
For class on 2/19:
There were many connections between Dickie’s writing that we had to read for class and in the film How to Kill a Judge. First of all, there is a clear connection when it comes to describing the systemic power of the mafia. Both Dickie and the film show how the heirarchy in the mafia has transformed over time and especially in the 1970s when this film was produced. At this time, we are able to see how the mafia went through a change as the stereotypes of the past were often changed in favor of a more extreme system. While this is clear in Dickie’s writing, we see this as well in How to Kill a Judge as corruption and violence takes place as a way to try and gain power/control. This new style of a harsher mafia deeply rooted in this corruption and violence at a political and legal level is reflected well here. These ideas were surprising for me to explore because of how the film seemed to be very realistic as well as a piece of fiction, and how the mafia system could adapt so well to such a harsh change. I also thought this was interesting to look at thinking back to older mafia films we had watched and comparing the styles of these. Although many filmic elements remain the same or have been advanced upon simply because of time or innovation, the representation of what the mafia fundamentally is has clearly changed. By this point, stereotypes have been established and interest has been grabbed, and now the power of the mafia structure is in the forefront. I don’t know how to perfectly describe what I am thinking here, but I just thought it was a really interesting evolution.
The extent to which the Mafia has permeated political and judicial systems and maintained control through violence and corruption is demonstrated by John Dickie’s Cosa Nostra and Damiano Damiani’s How to Kill a Judge (1974). The film blurs the boundaries between reality and fiction by telling the fictional but uncannily accurate story of a filmmaker whose film about a dishonest judge suddenly reflects actual events. The protagonist discovers the disturbing depth of Mafia influence as he investigates the judge’s murder, showing how institutional power held by criminal organizations may stifle or corrupt justice. Dickie’s historical analysis, which describes how the Corleonesi faction, led by Salvatore Riina, planned the brutal Second Mafia War, gives these ideas a real-life context. During this time, opposing politicians, magistrates, and Mafia bosses who threatened the Corleonesi’s hegemony were targeted for assassinations. Not only were judges like Paolo Borsellino and Giovanni Falcone removed as individuals, but they were also removed as representations of opposition to a system that was based on intimidation and terror. It was difficult to bring about significant change even after corruption was exposed because of the Mafia’s capacity to use both violence and political connections. The tenacity of criminal power systems is emphasized in the literature and the movie. Dickie’s narrative illustrates how these dynamics functioned in real life, even though How to Kill a Judge dramatizes the conflict between justice and systematic corruption. The goal of the Mafia’s hold on the legal system was to strengthen a whole system that was built to defend itself, not only to get rid of threats. These works, which combine historical accounts and fiction, show how pervasive corruption can be and how it may impede reform even when its cruelty is exposed.
While reading Dickie’s analysis of the origins of the “Second Mafia War” and watching How to Kill a Judge, I could not help but be reminded of one of the fundamental themes that we studied earlier: the mafia as an “industry of violence”.
Not only did the mafia leverage the resources around them in the community to advance their interests, they embedded themselves in the very fabric of Sicilian (and broader Italian) society, finding ways to profit off of their violence. The murder story in How to Kill a Judge perfectly represents the corruption that the mafia was creating. Even in the face of irrefutable proof of outside criminal influence, efforts to make a difference are often futile because the mafia is not merely a social organization. It became ingrained within the legal system (especially around the 70s and 80s), which Dickie goes on to prove with examples of assassinations of judges who did not conform to their agenda, etc.
In terms of the actual film content of How to Kill a Judge, I enjoyed the ‘plot within a plot’ structure in which the filmmaker in the movie captured an incident that precipitated the actual killing and the main plot of the movie. Of all the stylistic choices made throughout the film, the development of the plot stood out to me in particular; I found it unique and unlike any of the other movies we have studied thus far. Additionally, I did wonder if presenting the events of the film like this was a way to recognize the work done by members of the press, government, and public to pull back the curtain on the mafia’s business operations. Beyond it simply being an interesting plot line, I cannot think of another reason Damiani would have chosen to do this.
My favorite character in the film was Mr. Terrasini. I found him to be a supportive and transparent character in a film filled with secretive figures. Additionally, some of his lines were quite memorable. Early in the film, when he and Mr. Solaris are in the car, Solaris says to him “Without the mafia a good man like you could work honestly without the ‘code’. Without bullying or blackmail. Or becoming a bully himself.” To this, Terrasini replies “But how would I live, otherwise?” In class, we talked on multiple occasions about how much of the mafia’s origins are tied to a way of surviving – whether that be amongst harsh governmental guidelines, or conditions for immigrants, etc. Terrasini’s views of the mafia as a necessity align with early mafia beliefs. Later in the film, Solaris says he has never seen a murder victim, to which Terrasini replies “I have. When I was 10 years old. It was my father.” Reading this chapter of Cosa Nostra, family was mentioned in every story, especially troublesome familial backgrounds. Peppino’s story started with the explanation of his uncle’s horrifying death and Vitale’s father died when he was very young. While in their stories, they chose to break out of the mafia cycle that families stay in for generations, the deviation highlights the very existence of the structure itself. Terrasini was one of the many who accepted their fate and continued in his family’s footsteps/within the mafia’s pre-set structure. It interested me too that his character, which I felt was the one most frequently discussed as being part of the mafia, faced the most gruesome death scene within the whole movie. He was shot an enumerable amount of times and his corpse was the only one fully exhibited within the film. Perhaps it was symbolic of the violence those deeply entrenched in the mafia face.
The Godfather and How to Kill a Judge both examine the effect of power and how it corrupts. Coppola’s opening with Bonasera—a nobody character pleading to Vito—sets the tone perfectly. It’s not just about the mafia; it’s about how systems fail people. Bonasera’s “I believe in America” line becomes this bitter joke when you see his daughter’s story, and how the Corleones fill the void left by broken institutions. That wedding scene, cutting between celebration and Vito’s shadowy dealings, mirrors the baptism hits later—Coppola’s screaming that power always wears two faces. The sacred and the violent aren’t opposites; they’re partners.
How to Kill a Judge takes an alternative approach to this idea. The judge’s murder isn’t just a plot twist—it’s Dickie’s history lesson alive on screen. When the system’s so rotted that even “good” judges are assumed corrupt, people can lose faith in their power systems. Similar to Dickie’s point about the Corleonesi: violence isn’t just for control, it’s to enforce complicity. Both stories leave a sense of emptiness at the end with Michael’s lie to Kay. How to Kill a Judge’s unresolved ending suggests that there are no heroes, only cycles. The director asks not only if corruption’s inevitable—but how it thrives when we mistake silence for survival.
How to Kill a Judge exposes how deeply the mafia had infiltrated the judicial system and made justice nearly impossible. The film’s protagonist, a filmmaker investigating judicial corruption, soon realizes that the institutions meant to uphold the law are complicit in crime and reflected the real Sicilian mafia’s grip on power.
By the 1970s, Cosa Nostra had evolved beyond extortion and racketeering into an entity that had fully embedded itself into the state. Luciano Leggio and his Corleonesi faction exemplified this shift by infiltrating mafia influence within the courts, politics, and law enforcement. Judges who challenged this system often faced violent retribution, as seen in the assassinations of Giovanni Falcone and Paolo Borsellino. Even when the state sought to curb mafia power, it faced resistance not just from criminals but from within, where state officials had been compromised or coerced into complying with the mafia’s will.
The film’s narrative aligns with reality at the time which was a system where those in power preferred maintaining the status quo over confronting deep-seated corruption. How to Kill a Judge underscores how for decades, the mafia’s influence was so deeply entrenched in the judicial system that attempts at reform were met with deadly retribution. The Corleonesi’s ability to manipulate the legal framework to their advantage highlights the truth that systems of organized crime like the mafia become the most dangerous and adaptable when they are no different than the state. This also reminds me of the earlier story about the dead man found in the barrel when his relatives changed their testimony in court for fear of retribution from the mafia. The mafia had instilled such fear in the public that the judicial system was powerless to hold them accountable.
For Feb 19: I found that the movie was surprisingly aligned quite accurately with the reading’s historical content. The entanglement of the Mafia with corruption to escape lawful punishments was well reflected in the movie especially because the main plot was to investigate the murder of a judge. The murder of this judge reflected real life cases where many were assassinated for acting out against the mafia such as Judge Giovanni Falcone. I am personally a fan of movies that has clear social commentary; it’s a great form of media to effectively spread awareness and stay in people’s memories longer. It is also always satisfying to see justice served in the end. Justice was served historically as well. Due to the increasing violence of the mafia, the public drove greater legal actions such as the Maxi Trial in the 1980s (which notably, was after this movie was released). I wonder how big of an effect this movie had back then, and how the mafia felt if they watched this movie. I also found it simply regrettable that the mafia transitioned from discreet businesses to brutal violence and crime. When operating the “seemingly” legal businesses (that were acquired through illegal means), the mafia felt like smart people making some economic impact and improvements to those around them. But after the fall out of the leaders, everything fell apart and the mafia became no different than a group of criminals. It’s almost like the organization regressed, which is why I found it very regrettable. The mafia had a lot of potential.
Since I first saw it, I have always ranked The Godfather (1972) as my favorite movie of all time. I truly believe that no other movie is its parallel on the subject of dialogue, cinematography, action and plot. The ease at which the plot advances is seamless, with no unnecessary deviations that bore you. What always comes to my mind is in the opening scene when Michael introduces Tom Hagen as his brother to which Kay asks about Hagen having a different name and Micahel not only explaining Tom’s background but also revealing the idea of consigliere to the viewers. As for Bonasera’s opening monologue, I think it’s perfection. The fade in from black and the long take is amazing. Furthermore, I think that it sets up the purpose of the mafia and how Don Corleone got so powerful. By indebting people, he could call in favors from all sorts of professions when it became useful to him. We see this pay off when Vito calls upon Bonasera to prepare Sonny’s body. In the opening monologue alone, we see who operates at the core of the mafia: the boss, his son, and his consigliere (also his son).
We already discussed in class how his speech is emblematic of the American dream and its failures, but I don’t agree. I think it more accurately depicts a failure in American justice, and is not a criticism of the Dream itself. To expand on that subject, why does Bonasera go to Don Corleone? “For justice”. It was justice that was not given when the judge suspended the sentence, we do not know the reason why, but for the sake of the argument we can assume that it was prejudiced. Bonasera still successfully set himself and his business up of being a mortician, he assimilated and therefore succeeded in the dream. When it came to justice, it failed for whatever reason. I believe that Coppola is making a criticism of the American justice system and in many cases how it fails to deliver on its main purpose which is the reason why these underworld organizations are able to thrive. They deliver the justice that the government cannot. They enforce Hammurabi’s code “an eye for an eye”, the type of vengeance a father will absolutely want for his daughter’s attackers.
I think that you could probably teach a semester-long class on just the Godfather and still not have enough time to talk about it all. I wanted to talk briefly about a moment in Michael’s character development in the first half of the movie (right until the death of Apollonia). When we are introduced to him, Michael is the outsider: he went to college, and then fought in the war and has no part in his dad’s business. But slowly, due to circumstances outside of his control, he adapts to a new role that he must play to save his family. The pivotal moment for Michael is when he is in the study with Tom, Sonny, Tessio and Clemenza shortly after the hospital encounter with McClusky. We see Michael adopt a different demeanor, when he suggests that he kill Sollozzo and McClusky, the viewer sees that Michael means it. His eyes are cold and we see a killer being born. The only one in the room that does not laugh when Michael says this is Tom, because he also recognizes that Michael is not messing around. This is the turning point in Michael’s development and where we see him fully embrace his calling. This scene is further supported from the previous scene where after Mike and Enzo scare off the would-be assassins, Enzo’s hands are shaking while Michael’s are still, indicating that he is calm under pressure (since he served in the war). The final nail in the coffin of the old Michael is when Apollonia dies. Her death marks the death of the innocence of Mike and marks the birth of Don Corleone.
After reading Cosa Nostra and Damiano Damiani’s film How to Kill a Judge, I noticed both explore the connection between the Mafia, politics, and law enforcement in Italy during the 1970s. I also noticed how the connection unveiled the deadly consequences of confronting an institution of organized crime. Cosa Nostra addresses the rise of the Corleonesi, a faction that integrated power through methods of extreme brutality. This led to the systematic elimination of anyone who was a threat, leading to widespread assassinations of judges, journalists, and police. Daimani’s film also addresses these concerns by providing a filmmaker whose film accuses a judge of being tied to the Mafia, which led to the actual judge being murdered. As the film’s protagonist investigates, he realizes that the media and Italian public underestimated the accurate scale of the Mafia’s influence. Both the film and Cosa Nostra highlight that the Mafia was much more than just an organization in the shadows but that it had grown far enough that it had infiltrated politics, the judiciary, and even the mechanisms of the public.
Additionally, I noticed that both Cosa Nostra and the film suggested that justice was often manipulated or suppressed. Both also addressed a shift in the Mafia’s tactics, transitioning from secrecy to open warfare against all who posed a threat. By merging the historical reality in Cosa Nostra with the cinematic fiction in How to Kill a Judge, both works present how the Mafia was much more than a criminal organization. It was a political force controlling life and death in Italy during the 1970s.
Not only did the John Dickie reading, “The Origins of the Second Mafia War 1970–1982,” bring up topics relevant to How to Kill a Judge, but I also thought this reading closely connected to the Godfather, which we watched for class on Monday. Both films and the text work together to demonstrate how violence and power work together in Mafia settings. The text discusses how the Corleonesi rose to power through violence by killing their rivals. Similarly, violence is used to obtain power in both The Godfather and How to Kill a Judge. Specifically, in The Godfather, we follow Michael Corleone’s rise to power. In order to reach the position of Don Corleone, Michael orchestrates the killing of several of the other mafia men and his rivals. Without such violence Micheal would never have become part of the “family business” and become so similar to his father. Additionally, the text captures the Mafia’s power in politics and the corruption that takes place in law enforcement. The Godfather similarly captures this idea with characters like Senator Geary, whose integrity is compromised by Corleone’s blackmail and manipulation.
One aspect of the movie that I thought was particularly interesting was the press’s focus on Mafia related crimes and violence. It resembled our own discussions in class of what was found to be popular and sold the best. For example, in the beginning, there is scene where they are trying to figure out what to write about in their article and somebody suggests that when the movie ended a woman shouted “Shame on you! The judges are good people” to which the man replied “lame.” But then another reporter said two men fought and ended up in the hospital, which he said was worthy of being in the paper. They even went so far as to prefer lies over the truth when at the end the reporter didn’t want to tell the truth about the wife orchestrating the murder because it was a crime of passion and not a mafia crime. He said, “Who cares about a petty marital affair.” These parts of the movie seem to be a commentary on the public’s fascination with the mafia and even more so the media outlets’ obsession with writing stories about it. It seems to say that this obsession fuels the misinformation about the mafia because skewing stories to only talk about certain details that are more interesting to readers causes a skewed perception.
The paper also illustrates this idea when discussing Luciano Leggio, who despite being feared by many and having a “notoriety [that] stretched well beyond Corleone,” had chronic prostate problems and other health issues that resulted in him wearing a brace. There are so many aspects of the mafia and crime in general that are never discussed simply because it isn’t deemed worthy. The problem with this is that it shifts the way we view people, events, and the world.
In discussing the depiction of the mafioso or the gangster in films specifically, we have always brought up the notion of creating a central character who is simultaneously a hopeful projection of some deeply American, capitalistic ideals while also being a grotesque reflection of man’s potential evils. In this depiction of the mafioso, we see how his evil deeds inevitably catch up to him (see Michael Corleone’s fall and the loss of his loved ones or the iconic words of Tom Powers and Little Caesar as they grapple with their mortality upon being severely wounded), and we can even think back to the Warshow essay on the gangster’s predestined failure. I find myself reflecting on this mortal guarantee for the mafioso as we watched How To Kill a Judge specifically in looking at the reactions of Judge Traini’s colleagues following his death. There is a notable anxiety and distrust that every individual in the film seems to exhibit after the killing which ultimately adds a sad comedy to the conclusion of the film when we realize all the subsequent murders and cover ups were done in vain since the real culprit was Signora Traini. I especially thought about the mental games that mafiosi, corrupted politicians, and other “guilty parties” engage in under such circumstances which I believe Dickie sheds some light on in his story about Leonardo Vitale. In the story we see years of mafioso conditioning and the generational baggage of feelings of inadequacy and desperation to be “in the know” in crime organizations piling on to one individual giving birth to some explanations for his apparent mental instability. This was certainly not a symptom of the mafioso’s lifestyle that I had considered before, but when you take a step back and consider how the crime organization builds itself and the degree to which the organizational structure and lines of communication incite distrust, worry, and an obsession with watching one’s own back, the impact becomes striking. Especially when we see a story like Damiani’s in which, as likely occurred/occurs in real life, individuals are killed and framed in scenarios in which they have no business being implicated.
The Dickie chapter provided an insightful historical context for How to Kill a Judge by highlighting the way the mafia was operating in the 1970’s and how power shifted within the mafia. The most striking element of the movie is how embedded the mafia is in every side of the conflict. Rather than representing the world as good guy versus mafia, Solaris, the moral good, has a friend with mafia ties. Also of note, the friend embodies the typical mafia man with his government contract in construction. The mafia is everywhere in the movie, but always hidden from the public view. The death of the judge showed how nebulous the corruption and mafia ties went while showing the resiliency of the corrupt system to protect itself. I found the movie tackled the complexity of the situation very well. Similar to the real mafia of the time, the mafia has power struggles and ranging interests that cause internal disputes. These disagreements are what prompt a consolidation of power as discussed in Dickie. In the movie, ultimately the murder ironically turns out to be an act of passion. This twist provides a final moral problem of the choice between justice and ruining a major political player that’s been corrupted. Overall, How to Kill a Judge represents the mafia in a realistic manner similar to the other Italian films. Unlike the previous films we have discussed, this movie focuses much more on the political influence and complex nature of the mafia, especially at the time of production instead of focusing on the mafia as a business. This film makes me curious about the role of the media in the world of the mafia. How did the mafia either control or suppress the media to stay in power?
A connection that is rather explicitly reflected in the film How to Kill a Judge that is also expressed by John Dickie in The Origins of the Second Mafia War 1970–1982 is the extent to which the “code of conduct”, so to speak, of the Cosa Nostra effectively dissolved into militaristic methods of strategic violence both internally and against the state. This acts as a direct contrast to the previous relations between the mafia and the state that was far more complicated as it involved instances of collaboration as well as opposition. However, now this relationship seems to be predominantly oppositional. I know that, previously, the mafia used political infiltration and collaboration to amplify its influence. With this relationship now spoiled due to the mafia’s indiscriminate violence, I wonder how this altered mafia operations considering the shift in the relationship with the state going from corrupt collaboration to violent submission of state officials? Additionally, how did this influence investigative journalism- a key contributor to the shaping of the public perspective of the mafia- given the Mafia’s newfound brutality? Were they also scared into submission? Lastly, in what ways did the wealth acquired from the commodification of heroin impact the mafia’s ability to challenge the state(i.e how did they leverage the wealth to boost their strength)?
How to Kill a Judge is one of those slow-burn thrillers that gets under your skin without you realizing it. Franco Nero plays a filmmaker who makes a movie about a corrupt judge, only to find out that the same judge has been assassinated in real life, throwing him into this weird, unsettling spiral of paranoia and guilt. There’s something about the way Damiani builds tension that feels almost hypnotic. It’s like you’re watching everything unfold through a haze, but you can still sense the danger creeping in at the edges. The Sicilian setting is beautiful but in this eerie, washed-out way, like the sun is shining too harshly on a place full of secrets. Nero’s performance is quietly intense. His blue eyes do a lot of the heavy lifting, flickering between confidence, doubt, and straight-up fear as he starts to realize he might be in way deeper than he thought. The film lingers on moments just long enough to make you uncomfortable, like when a politician’s forced smile falters for half a second or when someone gives an answer that’s just a little too rehearsed. It’s not just about solving a mystery, but it’s about how the truth itself can be dangerous, twisting into something you can’t control once you start pulling at the wrong threads.
It’s fascinating how The Godfather films blur the line between cinematic fiction and real-life mafia history. Francis Ford Coppola didn’t just craft a compelling narrative—he *proffers* an almost documentary-like depiction of organized crime, drawing heavily from actual events and figures. The *mise en scène* of the film, from the dimly lit rooms where power is brokered to the meticulous recreation of 1940s and 1950s New York, augurs an unsettling sense of authenticity.
Perhaps the most famous example is Marlon Brando’s portrayal of Vito Corleone. His slow, deliberate manner of speech, the gravelly voice, the almost somnolently wise demeanor—these were not just artistic choices but direct imitations of real mafia bosses like Carlo Gambino. The way he rarely raises his voice, the way he gestures with quiet authority rather than outward aggression—these *leitmotifs* of power mirror the inscrutable figures of the real Cosa Nostra, men who, despite their criminal nature, commanded the *approbation* of their communities.
Then there are the murders—some lifted almost verbatim from reality. The infamous restaurant assassination of Virgil “The Turk” Sollozzo recalls the real-life hit on Joe Masseria in 1931, where Charles “Lucky” Luciano allegedly excused himself to the bathroom before the shooting began. Similarly, the bloody tollbooth execution of Sonny Corleone is an eerie echo of the 1957 assassination of Albert Anastasia, whose brutal slaying was captured in images just as haunting as those Coppola staged for the film.
What’s truly remarkable is how *The Godfather* doesn’t just imitate history but has, in turn, shaped it. Mobsters reportedly altered their speech and mannerisms a la Brando, becoming *puppets of something that goes beyond them*—a testament to the film’s haunting, almost *phantasmagorical* power over reality.
I didn’t like the film Goodfellas. To me, it struck me as an overdone caricature of the mafia, with excessive violence, disastrous relationships, and irresponsibility. At some point, the sexual affairs of Henry and the foolish violence of Tommy became too much. I’m not sure if I felt so upset by this portrayal because of our exposure to mafia media through this class, or if this would be my reaction to the film before this semester, but either way, I’m surprised with how highly rated the film is.
Nevertheless, while the film is overdone, the plot themes feel relevant to modern-day drug trade and gang violence, and each step of Henry’s journey feels realistically complex. On the issue of the drug trade, this was a fascinating continuation of Godfather I. In Godfather I, the mafioso chose not to engage in selling drugs because of how dangerous and risky the work can be. In Goodfellas, however, Henry embraced the drug trade while in prison. The fears in Godfather I were realized in Goodfellas when the drug trade led Henry down a disastrous path and ultimately to his arrest and “exile.” Goodfellas also demonstrated an important theme of relationships in criminal business. At the start of the film, everyone in Paulie’s mafia is family. Henry sought Paulie as an escape from his violent father and found a community. In the portrayal of young Henry, Pauli’s gang was his new family. Fast forward several decades and his relationships with them are ruined, with an ultimate betrayal when Henry sold them out in court. This underscored the superficial nature of Henry’s relationships with the mafia. Although they felt like family and spent all their time together, it was still a business. And when it came down to it, Henry sold out his “adopted family,” to save himself. Henry was addicted to the rush of the mafioso and despite the risks of staying, he tried to hold onto it for as long as he could. The film was hard to watch because of the excessive violence and portrayals, but certainly offers important insights into the dynamics of a criminal empire.
Feb 24th: “The Power of Hyphen-Nationalism” discusses Martin Scorsese’s public transition from identifying strongly as Italian American to a broader White-Ethnic American identity. This shift in identification is also seen in Scorsese’s main character, Henry. In past Hollywood movies, mafia members would only be portrayed as Italian immigrants. However, Henry is only Italian through his mother. Rather than being from Sicily or fully ethnically Sicilian, Henry is only half Sicilian. Not only is Henry’s ethnicity story different than most mafia movies at the time, Henry hardly mentions or interacts with his family and even wears and cosplays as jewish while also being catholic. As we have seen throughout the classic mafia movies thus far in class, the mafia members are all fully Sicilian and have a strong family connection as well as a religious connection. However, this movie appears to break all of these mafia norms. The Sicilian/Italian heritage is no longer the primary focus of the film. The reading gives light into why Scorsese broke the mafia norms of the time. The shift is connected to broader societal changes where ethnic groups were increasingly pressured to assimilate into a larger white identity. As ethnic groups, like Italian Americans, became more established, the Italian American community wanted to distance themselves from the bad persona of Hollywood mafia members to a more common White-Ethnic identity. Finally, there may also be a connection to a larger movie audience.
Lopes’s “Hyphen-Nationalism” publication on Scorsese was certainly a fascinating read. It provided me with some new perspectives on the influence of directors’ personal lives on their filmmaking, but I also found myself disagreeing with some of his ideas. Lopes argues that Goodfellas portrays “[t]he dark side of the American Dream”, going on to say that some of Scorsese’s other films in the 90s and later depict the road to success in America as always riddled with violence, corruption, and sociopathy (569). I certainly see where he is coming from with this statement, but I also believe that movies like Goodfellas, and others we have studied in class (like the Godfather series, etc.), attempt to display how the obsession with success often leads to violence, but not necessarily the idea itself.
Perhaps this is naivete (i.e., not wanting to believe that every path to achieving the American Dream is entrenched in brutality), but to me, Goodfellas was more of a comment on the state of Italian-American society and organized crime in New York at the time, and it seemed that Scorsese used the film as a platform to paint a picture of how his own youth was influenced by the same criminal forces. Lopes also mentions this early in the essay when quoting Richard Schickel by saying the Mafia was “providing much of the neighborhood’s social organization and control” in Scorsese’s childhood town.
Of course, I very much enjoyed Goodfellas as a film since I am a big Scorsese fan, but having more perspective about Scorses’s background allowed me to see it differently this time, especially with the ending where Henry returns to the life of an average “schnook”; it was the best option for his family (and therefore fulfilling), but perhaps not as personally exciting.
I appreciate Scorsese’s commitment to portraying a variety of American experiences through his gangster films rather than just the stereotypical Italian-American experience. In the article, Lopes discusses how Scorsese’s childhood impacted the way he created movies. Through an interview in the midst of his career, Scorsese noted how he attempted to present a theme of a multi-ethnic Little Italy, replacing the Italian American view of Little Italy in his movies. I noticed this in the movie through Henry’s first interactions with Karen. Firstly, Henry was forced to go on a double date given Karen’s friend is prejudiced against Italians (which Tommy explicitly stated). Additionally, when Henry meets Karen’s mom for the first time, Karen covers his cross necklace. However, after they got married I noticed how Henry wears his cross necklace along with the Star of David, which in a sense alludes to Scorsese’s multicultural vision of Little Italy. Another time the movie intentionally expressed the multi-ethnic version of Little Italy was when Tommy was being “made,” and was officially awarded an “in” as a mafia man. During this scene, the movie discusses how Jimmy and Henry will never be able to be “made” given they aren’t 100% Italian. This speaks to Lopes’ claim that white-ethnics kept an identification with their ethnic-backgrounds, but did so in a broader European-American way. In this example, Henry is viewed as an Italian-American but is also still connected to his Irish or multi-European roots which cause him to not be “made.” In addition, Lopes discusses how movie critics applauded Scorsese for his ability to connect his autobiography and social history to create his own movie brand, which are reflected in all of his iconic movies, such as the iconic Wolf of Wall Street.
Goodfellas captivated me through the very first scene. I loved how we talked about in the prior class how mafia men in real life aspired to act like those in movies and, in Goodfellas, we saw Henry idolizing gang members from a very young age, wanting to be like them and eventually joining their crew to take on their ways. Also discussed in prior classes was mafia movies’ representation of the American Dream, and this movie not only showed the downfall of our protagonist (I loved how Henry’s face got paler as his mental health plummeted), yet uniquely showed the downfall of the entire main mafia group which was a surprise – the overambition of their entire system failed and this twist was wild. Scorsese did an amazing job at immersing his audience within the setting and atmosphere of the film and that is in great part because “all his films somehow reflected his youth as an Italian American”, drawing from his real life. The reading showed how Scorsese’s identity shaped his films. Themes of the power of identity were very present throughout Goodfellas; Tommy was the only one who could “get made” as he was purely Italian. Yet, unfortunately for Jimmy and Henry (with “outsider status in the Italian American-dominated world”) whose only hope at getting closer was through him, Tommy was a loose cannon and had to be killed for his impulsive actions. Ethnicity was significant and multi-faceted among the white community themselves as, for example, Karen’s mother scorns her for not marrying a Jew. The reading examines whiteness in film and I found it very telling that there was one African American in Goodfellas – and he got killed off for betraying the majority-white community. This made me wonder if there were any mafia films with a black protagonist?
Goodfellas is a very different perspective on the mafia and organized crime than the Godfather trilogy as instead of showing the perspective of the Don and his close associates it focuses on the perspective from the lowest wrung of a mafia family – the associates. While Paulie (Paul Sorvino) is a made man, he just runs a crew as a capo regime. Jimmy (DeNiro and real-life Jimmy Burke) and Henry (Liotta) are Irish and will never be made men; and Tommy (Pesci and real-life Tommy Desimone) is Italian but not a “made man.” The lives they live are very less secure than the Corleones or even of Paulie. They work on the tactics and execution (literally in some cases) of the family’s business. They get some benefits of the mob life through money and access only when it benefits the family. Henry had an easy go of it in prison because Paulie was there with him. But also, when Henry goes to jail, his wife and kids aren’t taken care of and he leaves prison broke and arrives at a small studio apartment instead of the home he previously had. This clear divide was very clearly seen again when Billy Batts, a made man, insults Tommy at the bar. Tommy is supposed to take the insults and not react. But Tommy killed Batts which is a mortal sin in the mafia as a made man can’t be killed, especially by someone who is not made, without the consent of the boss.
There is a business myth around the “third generation” that discusses the third generation of owners or of a family run business eventually see the business fail. It’s based on the first generation generally being poor and having to scrap and fight to build something lasting, the second generation growing up and seeing those struggles but ultimately obtaining success, and the third generation having grown up with that success and not having had to struggle and sacrifice and work hard eventually ruining the business. That could be seen along with the hypotheses of the Hyphen-Nationalism article in the Goodfellas. Henry and Tommy, not so much Jimmy who appears to be a throw-back, don’t know how to handle their success. They’ve become too “American” and like to show off their success, they’re too independent and don’t want to follow the rules: Henry for getting into the drug business after being told explicitly not to by Paul; and Tommy for killing a made man. This is also seen with the crew from the Lufthansa heist: they get a new a car or a fancy mink coat, or keep bothering Jimmy for the money now, all leading to Jimmy whacking them to keep their mouth’s shut. Henry then turns state’s evidence, goes into witness protection, and the crew from Paulie on down end up back in jail.
Was Scorsese foretelling the decline in the Mafia based on Lope’s Hyphen-Nationalism and the “third generation” myth? There was a recent article stating that even in Sicily, the Mafia is having problems finding new recruits. The backwardness and poverty and lack of equality for certain ethnic groups (Sicilians vs mainland Italians) and immigrants (Italians, Jews, Irish – now considered “white”) doesn’t exist as it once did, robbing the mafia of disaffected youth who only see one way up in a society previously closed off to them.
After reading the article and watching the film, it’s very interesting to see how the concept of Scorsese’s life playing a role in the way he makes film, as mentioned in the article, can be seen in the film Goodfellas. The article discusses Martin Scorsese’s public transition from strongly identifying as an Italian American to being more comfortable with a broader White-Ethnic American identity. This transition is evident in the film we watched, Goodfellas, because his main character, where in other mafia movies we’ve watched for this class have been completely Italian, Henry is only half Italian through his mother’s side. Much differently from the other movies we’ve watched where the characters seem to identify a lot with their family and be very family centered characters, Henry rarely mentions or interacts with his family. A lot of the mafia stereotypes that we’ve come to familiarize ourselves with is that these individuals are Italian men who care deeply about their familial connections and are very much family men. But, with Henry, and Goodfellas, these stereotypes seem to be challenged. Goodfellas allowed individuals to look deeply into the state of Italian-American society and how organized crime was run. Scorsese has some personal connections with this as his own youth was also influenced by these criminal forces that he mentions in the movie. All in all, I really enjoyed the movie because, after reading the article, it allowed me to see how personal things that have happened in the life of Martin Scorsese, he was able to interpret the mafia and give it his own personal spin.
Martin Scorsese’s *Goodfellas* (1990) employs an unconventional use of direct narration and fourth-wall-breaking that disrupts classical cinematic storytelling. Henry Hill’s (Ray Liotta) voiceover is already a striking narrative device, but in the film’s final moments, he does something unexpected—he steps out of the film’s diegetic world and speaks directly to the audience. This moment, where Hill literally acknowledges the spectator, breaks the immersion, shattering the illusion of the film’s gritty realism. It’s almost as if Scorsese reminds us that this is a story—a mythologized version of crime, power, and consequence, framed through the lens of nostalgia and regret.
This technique, while jarring, is deeply tied to Scorsese’s broader artistic and personal narrative. As an Italian-American filmmaker, Scorsese’s works often explore themes of identity, assimilation, and the construction of ethnic narratives in American cinema. *Goodfellas* not only dramatizes the rise and fall of an outsider in American society, but it also reflects Scorsese’s own negotiation of his Italian-American identity within the film industry. The film’s self-awareness—through narration and fourth-wall breaks—mirrors the way Scorsese’s public biography has been shaped by critics, journalists, and scholars who analyze his work through the lens of race, ethnicity, and national identity.
Furthermore, this moment in *Goodfellas* speaks to the ideological shift explored in Scorsese’s public story—from the “unmeltable” Italian-American of the 1960s Ethnic Revival to the White-Ethnic American of end-of-the-century Hyphen-Nationalism. By breaking cinematic convention, Scorsese indirectly calls attention to the way narratives—whether in film or in cultural identity—are constructed, revised, and ultimately performed for an audience.
The film Goodfellas was very interesting and engaging. I found it to be a long film which focused on Henry Hill’s life. In combination with the readings, it felt as if the film’s development directly connected to Martin Scorsese’s overarching development of ethnic heritage and assimilation shown throughout his films. Something I felt was very interesting compared to the last few films we have watched is this one was based on a true story. Comparatively, other films we have watched actually did the opposite – tried to persuade the audience there was no connection between the film and real life. This highlights societal development over time and government control and censorship over the media. One aspect of the film that stood out to me at the beginning was when Henry’s narrative voice stated he wanted to be a gangster because “Gangsters were better than the President”. I felt like this was an interesting way to depict the stereotype of a gangster that we have also seen through other films this semester. I also felt as though the movie showed a progression of the life of an immigrant seeking the American Dream. Overall, I thought this was a great movie and I found it tied together a lot of interesting aspects from the other films we have been watching.
I found the Lopes article on “The power of Hyphen-Nationalism” to be an interesting take on Scorsese’s movies because of the director’s emphasis on his own Italian-American background. Unlike Coppola, who regretted how The Godfather films played into negative views of Italian Americans, Scorsese seems to capitalize on these tropes in both his films and personal life. In the Lopes article, Scorsese is quoted about how the only two paths for Italian American boys were the church or the mafia, but the author notes that many, if not most, Italian Americans pursued legitimate careers. To me, it seems that by sensationalizing mafia influence in his art and interviews, Scorsese valued profiting off of his community more than uplifting it.
I thought Goodfellas, itself, had a comedic element that was emphasized by the almost “mockumentary” style of the filming. Between the voiceover, the mobsters’ constant banter (“Funny how?”) and off-the-handle violence, and the fourth wall break during the court scene, the irony of the film was so overstated that, for me, it passed social commentary and approached comedy. The ending scene, especially, was ironic to me because Henry seems to achieve the American dream–the white picket fence and quiet suburban life with his family–but is unfulfilled because he misses the thrill of the mafia. This is a sharp divergence from the trope we have seen of the mafia man thus far: The mafioso is never able to leave the mafia life except through death, no matter how much he wants to reform. It seems odd to me that, as an Italian-American himself, Scorsese would choose to portray Henry in this way because, in my opinion, it suggests that Henry (representative of Italian Americans) is fundamentally drawn to a life of crime.
I thought the narration was a very interestice piece in the Goodfellas movie. The fact that Henry Hill was for the most part the one who was narrating the movie played a big role in how I and many other audience members experienced this film. The narration featured many breaks of the fourth wall and I believe that served to connect with the audience and make us feel that we are complicit in his actions. Right from the beginning of the film I wanted to root for Henry because of this. We were able to see the world through his eyes and even when it became clear throughout the movie that he was not the greatest guy in the world, I still found myself rooting for him. This effect was combined with what we were seeing on the screen during the unbroken scene in the beginning of the movie where we got to meet a lot of his friends at a restaurant. The camera was positioned in such a way where it seemed like we were Henry in first person. We got the opportunity to get introduced to his mobsters and it almost felt as if we were being inducted into the mob. Included in this was Henry narrating and describing all of his friends one at a time as we went around the restaurant. Additionally, It was intruiging to me how his wife Karen narrated some of the movie. This was quite a departure from most mafia films that we have seen because the women typically haven’t had a large role in the films. They were mostly there to complement the main character but not have a story of their own. This gave us a new insight on how it felt to be a part of a mafia family from someone who is not directly involved in the mafia.
In my opinion, Goodfellas is just fantastic. It’s not only a hallmark film of late twentieth-century Italian (and I suppose Irish) America, but the cinematography itself is art. What stuck out to me from watching the film and reading about it was Scorsese’s use of long takes, music, and narration that give a tremendously immersed perspective, as if the audience member is in the film itself standing right behind Henry as he walks about. I especially took note of this closer to the beginning of the film when Henry walks the audience through the bar and introduces his confidants- whether it be “Jimmy-two-times” or “Frankie Carbone”- in this scene I feel like I was plopped into a somewhat gaudy Italian-American bar and restaurant. I love it. I get the same sensation (only better) when Henry walks Karen through the back end of the Italian restaurant and tips the waiter crisp 100-dollar bills each. The song “Then He Kissed Me” by the Crystals brings the audience right into the almost whimsical state of mind that Karen must have felt when Henry just made things happen, whether in a righteous fashion or not.
That sense of authenticity isn’t just great filmmaking, it’s personal. Scorsese grew up immersed in this world. Little Italy was his classroom for understanding human behavior, struggles, and the art of storytelling. He spent his life observing these sorts of characters, learning unspoken rules, and witnessing how charm and brutality could coexist. That’s why Goodfella’s feels so genuine, not just because of the cinematography. Scorsese draws from memory and taps into his own life to invoke a sense of truth that can’t just be written from thin air, as suggested in the reading.
Paul Lopes suggests that the film The GoodFellas, on the timeline of which Italian-Americans transition between being a marginalized group to being very integrated into mainstream American society, sits right at the pivot point and this fact is definitely reflected in the film. This is made evident via Henry’s pursuit of the American Dream as well as the mixing between the Irish, the Jewish and the Italian people under the mafia. The Goodfellas, despite following the same parabolic arc of rising to some form of success in the world of crime and ultimately falling apart by the end, still feels different than the other mafia films that we’ve watched especially because the protagonist does not die in some grand act of violence. However, the final scene of the film appeared to me like a metaphorical death for Henry because he had lost virtually everything in his life that made him feel alive. There’s a sort of irony here considering that, of the group he started with, he arguably ended up with what was closest to a “Happyierever after” so to speak. I wonder what this sort of ironic setup and play on the final ultimate collapse of a mafia member
Reading the Lopes article on the emergence of Hyphen-Nationalism following the creation of a White-Ethnic America was very interesting and brings up what I would consider a fairly common phenomenon across races and ethnic groups in United States history. I will say that Lopes seems to make some overarching generalizations about Martin Scorsese’s Italian-American identity and how he has used this identity to navigate the public eye, but the evidence he provides would certainly seem to point to some interesting changes in how immigrants and marginalized groups see their status change across times and places. In the article, we read that, at least in interviews, it would seem Scorsese changes his tune about exchanges in the Lower East Side between various groups. In the early days of his career, he talks about friends and relatives having disputes with other kids, but later on, he talks about the beauty of multiculturalism in his neighborhood and how it was an inspiration for some of his works. I think this motif amongst individuals who work themselves into status positions not often (generally speaking) assumed by members of their identity groups is quite ordinary and can easily be seen in other individuals. As expressed in the article, white privilege, white nationalism, and white supremacy will always seek out ways to defend themselves, and this can result in the creation of certain narratives that, consciously or not, individuals in status positions begin to push. I’m reminded of Jean Louise’s struggles to trivialize racial tensions in rural Alabama while working and making friends in New York in author Harper Lee’s Go Set a Watchman and how, to downplay one’s own privilege and successes in direct comparison with another less privileged group, there can be an inclination to sugarcoat the severity of such discrepancies. Of course, I can’t say whether or not this is what happened in Scorsese’s case as it is always a struggle to make interviews and public engagements appealing as someone who lives predominantly in the public eye, but it is interesting to think about particularly in how this manifests in his films. Looking to Goodfellas, we see similar tensions and the minimization of any tensions amongst Italian, Jewish, and Irish Americans in many different scenes. The most profound instance would be when the audience is clued into the fact that neither Henry nor Jimmy can be “made” in the crime organization because they are not fully Italian, but, due to their connections with Tommy who is fully Italian and is set to become a “made man”, they both can overlook this. We see further examples of tension and distinction during Jimmy’s intro sequence at the beginning of the film when someone in the background at his poker table says, “The Irishman is here to take all you [Italians’] money,” perhaps insinuating some stereotypes about Irish Americans as to how the conduct themselves regarding money or gambling or even just to highlight historical discomforts between the two groups. Similarly, we see Billy Batts draw attention to Jimmy and Henry’s Irish-ness while also calling them hoodlums which is particularly notable since this is our first impression of the character, and we see he has recently arrived back from prison meaning one of the first things he chooses to bring up in conversation with the two is to highlight their otherness due to their Irish identities.
One of the first parts of the article that stood out to me was the line about how nearly no one “understood as well as Scorsese what neighborhood loyalties mean to ethnic groups”. Goodfellas begins with Henry finding the family and support he lacked at home among Paulie and his guys. He narrates that Paulie offered protection to all of his guys – protection they could not find from the cops. Occasionally, even, protection from the cops. This group of Italians that grows and changes throughout the film is bonded partially by their ability to protect each other and their group loyalty.
The article also mentioned the presence of Irish Americans “and other white ethnic main characters” in Scorsese’s films. Additionally, it explains that the films were not set in Irish American or other white-ethnic communities. Instead, their presence within the “Italian-American dominated worlds” of Scorsese’s films highlighted their “outsider status”. This was an important topic later in the film when Henry explains that he and Jimmy could never be “made men” as they both had “Irish blood”. To me, this part of the film connected to both of these article topics. It highlighted the disconnect that having a different ethnicity, even if only partially, created from the central group. However, it also emphasized how their neighborhood’s loyalty transcended it. Just as the tradition of “made men” had not been broken, neither had the tradition of brotherhood.
The Paul Lopes essay highlights how Martin Scorsese’s public story shifted from the ’60s to the present, expressing different narratives ranging from authentic expressions and exotic stereotypes to Hollywood cliches of Italian America; these cliches emphasize the White ethnic struggle towards the American Dream. Unlike Coppola, Scorsese’s films explicitly highlight his own Italian American Identity. Interestingly, however, the 1990 film Goodfellas is centered around an Irish-Italian-American mafia associate who becomes involved in this organized crime system from a young age to escape his home life. Based on true events, the film and the role of the protagonist exemplify what Lopes describes as Scorsese’s shift from self-identity to a broader embrace of white ethnic identity in America. The outsider perspective of the shift is perfectly expressed when Henry states why Jimmy and himself would never be made men, unlike Tommy. While they took part in the same illicit activities and played essential roles, the fact that they were not of full Sicilian descent deprived them of the prestige, protection, and status of full membership in the mafia.
I also wanted to note the stylistic film techniques employed by Scorsese. The director uses several perfectly choreographed long takes that create the same “time as an experience” aspect, as discussed in Salvatore Giuliano. I found the Copacabana scene, for example, to be most impressive as the almost three-minute scene takes the audience from the outside, through the kitchen, and into the club, ending with Karen and Henry sitting at the front of the show surrounded by participants in the same system of organized crime; what strikes me is how the scene was so well choreographed, allowing the audience to be fully immersed in Henry’s world.
Of the films we’ve seen thus far, I think The Untouchables is the first to successfully make the viewer identify with the cops and against the mafia. I found that the movie’s score was one of the tools that helped create this effect. From early on in the film, Morricone’s score during scenes depicting the four “Untouchables” going out and fighting organized crime (such as their first alcohol raid as a team) creates a triumphant, heroic feel, emphasizing how the audience should view the work that these men are doing in a positive light. This contrasts the music that plays when the mobsters (particularly Nitti) are at work. During these scenes, the music is much darker and more ominous. Outside of the score, which contributes to our implicit understanding that the Untouchables are the “good guys” of this film, there are several other key signals to the audience that highlight Ness’s noble and honorable character which we are supposed to side with. One scene that had this effect for me was after Ness’s first kill of the film. After being forced to kill one of the criminals during the Western-style Canadian raid scene, Ness feels the weight of having been obligated to kill someone, asking “What is this, a game?” This reaction associates Ness with the average person who is not desensitized to killing (unlike the mobsters depicted in the film). Another element that contributed to our understanding of Ness’s character was his relationship with his wife and with his daughter, which showed the audience his family values. The last I’ll mention is the very obvious signal of his noble character in the train station stroller scene. Despite the gravity of this moment for the entire case, Ness feels obligated to abandon his post to help a woman bring her stroller up the staircase.
While watching the film, certain moments made me question whether there was any intention by De Palma for Ness’s character to be a sort of commentary against capitalism. After Malone’s death, Ness comments on how while all of this is happening, his wife is looking at color swatches for their kitchen, stating “Some part of the world still cares what color the kitchen is.” While watching this scene, I immediately thought this was a reference to the lavish lifestyles of mob bosses like Capone, who get to live luxuriously while their subordinates kill innocent people. Upon reflecting further, I wonder if this might also be a broader statement on the pitfalls of capitalism, with the mafia serving as a vehicle for the worst parts of capitalism. Throughout the film, the lavishness of Capone’s lifestyle is illustrated, which contrasts with the depiction of Ness, the story’s hero, as an ordinary guy. Furthermore, as we’ve seen before, Capone refers to his work as “business,” even claiming that his men don’t carry out violent crimes because it would be “bad business”. These elements lead me to question whether the film is attempting at all to convey this sentiment that capitalism is a system that can be easily taken advantage of by the wrong people. Moreover, it might be criticizing the fact that capitalism is a system under which violence can be industrialized and can turn certain people into prosperous businessmen.
Brian De Palma’s The Untouchables (1987) is set in Prohibition-era Chicago, following Eliot Ness and his team as they attempt to take down Al Capone’s illegal liquor empire. Stylistically, the film draws heavily from classic Hollywood gangster films, particularly its use of low angle and long shots. Pelan’s article highlights the Union Station shootout, a scene that encapsulates the Hollywood gangster aesthetic despite not being detailed in the original script. Due to budget constraints, De Palma abandoned spectacle in favor of pure visual storytelling. The architectural setting and public locale reflect classic gangster films, where innocent bystanders witness the intensity of violence—reminiscent of The Godfather’s restaurant assassination and The Public Enemy’s rainy street shootout.
De Palma builds suspense through slow camera movement, making the audience anticipate the explosion of violence. Low-angle shots of the gangsters heighten their menace, much like in Scarface with Tony Montana. Additionally, the minimal dialogue intensifies the tension, making the first gunshot feel abrupt and shocking. The sequence unfolds as a slow-burn set piece, crafting a visually complex and atmospheric landscape that stays true to classic mafia cinematography.
The Seduction of Mimi was definitely an interesting watch, but some parts were pretty tough to sit through, especially with how gender dynamics played out. The Italian soundtrack made it a little hard to follow, and even though I had the subtitles on, I found myself focusing more on the visuals and just trying to piece everything together through what was happening on screen.
Mimi as a character really stood out—he had such a bold and outgoing personality, especially for the time. But at the same time, his actions made it clear how deeply ingrained traditional masculinity was back then. Some scenes felt straight-up misogynistic, and it was hard not to notice how much sex in the film was catered toward male desire. It wasn’t just about relationships—it was about power, control, and ego. The way Mimi reacted to his wife’s affair compared to his own cheating just screamed double standards. He could justify everything he did, but the second she stepped outside the box, it was like a personal attack on his masculinity.
Even though the film had its comedic and satirical moments, there was an underlying discomfort in how gender roles played out. The movie definitely seemed to be commenting on the hypocrisy of men like Mimi, ones who see themselves as progressive but still fall into the same toxic patterns. The way women were treated, both by the characters and just in the framing of certain scenes, really highlighted how different expectations were for men and women back then. Some of it was frustrating to watch, but at the same time, it made a point about the kind of societal norms that still linger today.
The Untouchables was interesting to watch as the story followed the police perspective through the character Elliot Ness. Unlike Scarface which follows Tony Camonte–alluding to Al Capone–The Untouchables features Al Capone directly and already established. The intermediate scenes of Al Capone always show him particularly close up and in a bright and gaudy setting, emphasizing his status and power. These scenes, woven into the rest of the film, are starkly contrasted by Ness and his team, who are more hands-on and working on the ground. In this sense they are portrayed as normal working-class people. There is a strong sense of duality with Ness’s character as he is in one moment praying with his daughter and in the next in a shooting match with multiple adversaries. The scene at the train station displays this duality all at once as it portrays the anxiety around whether to shoot or help the mother and her baby. The scene unfolds giving Ness almost superhuman abilities as he chases the baby carriage and shoots his opponents simultaneously and ultimately ends up entirely unscathed. In addition to saving babies, Ness is presented as a hero during the raid at the border, riding in on horseback in a way that alludes to an old western film. In balancing Ness’s humble family-man side and fearless rifleman side, the film demonstrates the complexity of the type of person it takes to put away a Mafia boss.
I think the intrinsic connection between moral decay and the “American Dream” is particularly striking this week with Goodfellas and The Untouchables. In Goodfellas, we witness the rise and fall of Henry Hill–a man who glorified this idea of gangster. In the Copacabana nightclub scene, Henry is entranced with the grandeur, luxury, and worldly pleasures that this lifestyle brings. However, this is not all sunshine and rainbows. Soon after, his friend and associate, Tommy Devito, is murdered, and Henry eventually becomes addicted to cocaine and is arrested in the infamous May 11, 1980 sequence. Henry’s only path to a version of “freedom” is to betray Paulie and Jimmy–or the incarnates of the lifestyle he once violently sought to achieve. A once earnest and devoted man was turned into a shell of a human through prolific drug use and violence. What worth is success if you not only don’t have people to share it with, but also are unable to look yourself in the mirror and recognize what you see? Moreover, in The Untouchables, we encounter Ness, an ambitious young agent hell-bent on stopping Al Capone. Ness learns that everyone on the Chicago police force is on the Capone payroll, and through forming his team, he begins to put a dent in the Capone enterprise. However, along the way, Malone, a veteran cop and member of the team, was killed by Frank Nitti, one of Capone’s enforcers. This strikes a chord within Ness. A once pure agent is now driven by an irreconcilable loss. In the final courtroom scene, Ness learns that Capone has bribed the jury (and eventually gets a new jury) and throws Nitti off a building. His ultimate goal was achieved (Capone behind bars), but something was lost along the way. His devotion turned into rage, and like Capone in the baseball bat scene, Ness turned to gruesome methods to achieve his goal. It seems that in the whole Mafia enterprise–whether you’re pro or against–there is indeed some form of moral decay that comes along the way. Whether it is causation or correlation, I am not entirely sure. But it certainly speaks volumes that even people who seek to disband the Mafia are forced to turn to corrupt methods. The real question is–is it worth it? To Ness, it was. To others, I’ll leave that up to the class.
I loved this movie- might even top Il Mafioso. Ironically, the film starts with a wholesome feeling of justice, comradery, and passion between Ness and his ad hoc crew. Obviously, this is so juxtaposed by the violence of the mafia and the intensity of Al Capone. “Heightened melodrama”, as described in “Gang Wars, The Prohibition Menace” is the perfect way to describe this film. The characters are exaggerated to serve a point, or even a cliche. Eliot Ness is basically Captain America, superhero for the law, with his wise, mentor-like figure to guide his journey as an outsider bringing justice to Chicago. Along with a young prodigy and a nerdy accountant, this group is the original Avengers or law enforcement Breakfast Club- a random group that makes perfect sense.
I was really drawn to the music of this film as it heightened the feelings of melodrama. During their first bust, the music was so uplifting, it sounded like I was at Disneyland. The following scene of Al Capone circling the table with a bat had the opposite effect, where the music was sinister and I was waiting for the ball to drop (contrasting his casual tone).
I also thought that the stereotypes of Italian Americans were very different in this film than we have previously seen of mafia movies. Usually, they, especially the older films, exaggerate the stereotypes of this demographic and correlate Italian Americans exclusively to crime. Typically they are impoverished or low on the social ladder until they gain some new money through crime. Of course, we see typical, older Italian looking men with Al Capone and the usual stereotypes of Italian Mafia violence, but we also have George Stone, an Italian American, against the mafia working with the police. While he certainly faces initial prejudice, he is a crucial member in fighting with Ness against Capone.
Given our discussion last class, I found the idea of paying homage to other films through certain scenes to be very interesting. For example, in our last class, we discussed how the scene where the father beats Henry is similar to the scene and story of The Public Enemy. We also discussed how the conversation of “gangsters being better than presidents” resembles the conversation that took place in the Godfather between Micheal and Kay. I thought it was interesting to watch the moments in the Untouchables that Pelan described as paying homage to other films. For example, the scene where the baby carriage falls down the stairs at the Union Station during a shooting is an ode to Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin. It was interesting to find out that this scene was so famous after watching the film because I was fascinated by how they were able to film such a scene without the baby-carriage tipping over. Also, after our discussion of various cinematic techniques on Monday, this scene even further stood out for its use of different camera angles, background music, and slow-motion filming. At the start of the scene, there is a long moment where we are just watching the woman and her baby struggle to get up the stairs and the camera is directly angled downwards from a birds-eye point of view. There are also several close-ups in the scene that zoom into a specific character’s face, creating the effect of the viewer really being in the scene. Thirdly, this scene uses various speeds of motion to capture the drama that is occurring on the screen.
I found “The Untouchables” to be a really compelling portrayal of Prohibition-era organized crime. The film dramatizes Treasury agent Eliot Ness’s struggle against Al Capone with a sort of flair that I haven’t noticed in the other films we’ve watched, while also touching on justice, corruption, and moral compromise.
As Tim Pelan notes in his analysis “Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace,” De Palma’s vision of 1930s Chicago presents a city where the line between law and crime has blurred almost beyond recognition. Portrayed by Robert De Niro, Capone operates in plain sight, holding power over both the criminal underworld as well as the legitimate civic institutions meant to oppose him.Against this backdrop of systemic corruption, Kevin Costner’s Ness begins as an idealist whose moral certainty is tested repeatedly throughout the narrative. The formation of his “Untouchables” team (a street-smart beat cop in Malone, accountant Oscar Wallace, and rookie sharpshooter Stone) represents a tactical alliance of different approaches to justice. De Palma’s directorial choices are also worth mentioning, as his sweeping camera movements and dramatic compositions honor yet reinvent typical choices in gangster films. For instance, the Union Station steps sequence creates tension and emotional impact that transcend typical scenes in this genre of movie.
Ultimately, I feel like “The Untouchables” succeeds because it balances historical drama with fiction. It presents the battle against organized crime not just as a matter of law enforcement but as a moral battle where, as Malone reminds Ness, you must be willing to “do what’s necessary” while still holding onto core principles of justice—a theme that resonates well beyond its historical setting.
The movie transforms the battle between law and crime into something larger than history. While based on real events, it leans into myth-making, presenting a world where justice is a matter of willpower rather than procedure. The essay explores how it borrows from the Western, turning Prohibition-era Chicago into a new frontier where an outsider has to take on an entrenched force of corruption. This shift from realism to legend makes the movie feel more like a morality tale than a historical account.
At its core, the movie is about transformation. The protagonist starts as a by-the-book idealist but quickly learns that playing fair won’t be enough to take down the antagonist. His mentor, a streetwise veteran, teaches him that justice sometimes requires bending the rules. The essay focuses on how this shift mirrors classic American heroism, where the struggle is not just about defeating the enemy but deciding how far one is willing to go. The most famous action sequences reinforce this theme, turning routine confrontations into grand set pieces that elevate the story beyond its historical roots.
The essay makes the case that the movie is less about crime and more about how justice is achieved when the system is broken. The stylized violence and mythic framing serve a larger purpose, showing that heroism often comes at a cost. Rather than focusing on historical accuracy, the movie presents a version of justice that is cinematic, dramatic, and ultimately shaped by those willing to act.
I thought The Untouchables presented an interesting and unique vision of law enforcement’s battle against organized crime. Unlike Scarface or The Public Enemy where there is a somewhat morally ambiguous portrayal of gangsters which often depicted gangsters as tragic figures whose ambition led to inevitable downfall, The Untouchables draws a clear moral divide between Eliot Ness’s crusading federal agents and Al Capone’s ruthless empire. This kind of morality reminds me of the earlier mafia narratives we’ve seen where Italian immigrants are depicted as either noble and law abiding citizens or dangerous criminals. However, I thought this film updates this kind of dynamic, reinforcing the idea that crime must be met with force, even if it requires bending the law sometimes. In The Untouchables, Ness initially adheres to very strict legality, but as Malon teaches him, he begins to realize victory requires breaking the rules just as much as enforcing them. One of the elements that jumped out the most to me in this film is its type of violence. Capone is larger than life and this can be seen easily in his baseball-bat execution scene recalling the brutal, theatrical nature of gangster killings in The Godfather series. The iconic Union Station shootout, with its slow-motion carnage reinforced the idea of Ness’s team as warriors in a cinematic battle of good versus evil. Ultimately, The Untouchables reaffirms the American ideal that justice will always prevail, though only through relentless effort. Its emphasis on personal sacrifice and moral compromise aligns with many other pieces we’ve seen before.
When I think of Scorsese’s Goodfellas, I think of an authentic, gritty depiction of Italian American mob life, but not until reading “The Power of Hyphen-Nationalism” did I realize how the film navigates the fine line between realism and Hollywood stereotypes. Lopes highlighted how Scorsese’s films perfectly balance authentic portrayals with exaggerated clichés. The meticulous attention to detail, whether it be their lingo, the movie sets, or characters’ mannerisms, exemplifies Scorsese’s deep connection to Italian American roots. On the other hand, he leans into familiar tropes of Italian American gangsters, seemingly involving every Italian American with the mob. This duality strengthens the argument that while Scorsese’s work is reflective of the broader White-Ethnic stereotypes, his work remains deeply personal.
It is also a reflection of Scorsese’s lived experience as he shifted internally from Italian American filmmaker to a more White-Ethnic identity. This shift, reflective of the duality seen in Goodfellas, is referred to as Hyphen-Nationalism in the reading, a cultural movement that celebrated the collective struggles of European immigrants as it relates to the American experience. I also agree with Lopes’ analysis of how Goodfellas critiques the American Dream, noting how characters like Henry Hill are drawn to the promises of a better life but are ultimately broken by the reality of the situation. This critique aligns with the broader narrative of Hyphen-Nationalism, where the struggles of European immigrants are framed as central to the American story.
The Untouchables (1987) by Brian De Palma depicts Chicago during the Prohibition era as a city where the lines separating law and crime are blurred, offering a dramatic conflict between idealism and corruption. In Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace, Tim Pelan observes that De Palma skillfully juxtaposes the modest, constrained existence of Eliot Ness (Kevin Costner) with the lavish, even regal world of Al Capone (Robert De Niro). This visual contrast highlights the larger moral conflict at the heart of the movie.
The film’s unique combination of gangster filmmaking with Western themes is one of its most notable features. Ness is shown by De Palma as the classic “young gunfighter,” gaining knowledge from the experienced and realistic Jimmy Malone (Sean Connery). Their relationship is similar to that of a Western mentoring, where both idealism and ruthlessness are necessary to survive in a chaotic society. De Palma’s ability to build tension and take action to an almost operatic level is further demonstrated in the well-known “Union Station” scene, which pays homage to Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin.
De Palma’s artistic style adds to the film’s examination of justice and corruption by giving Capone’s world a glamorous appearance that stands in stark contrast to Ness’s modesty. The movie shows the attraction of wealth and power while also criticizing institutional corruption. Another layer is added when Pelan compares Capone’s populist strategies to those of contemporary politicians, implying that The Untouchables mirrors larger societal concerns about corruption and power. The movie’s portrayal of “The Chicago Way” is a potent reminder of how difficult it is to achieve real justice in a system that is so firmly rooted in moral compromise. In the end, The Untouchables continues to be an intriguing examination of how myth, history, and genre norms influence how we perceive bravery and villainy in American society.
I think that the Paul Lopes reading provides a fascinating perspective on Scorsese’s shift from predominantly Italian perspectives to more broad White-Ethnic American ones. His insights on Scorsese’s “public story” reminded me of Goodfellas. Just as he blends fictional elements with his personal experiences, Scorsese goes as far as to cast his own parents in the film, demonstrating how elements of his personal life inspired elements of the story. I think that this really increases the realism of the movie, as details as small as the pasta sauce recipe are related to Scorsese. In many ways, Scorsese’s film style can be characterized as exaggerated, as there is constant violence and embellishment of the mafia lifestyle. However, it also tells a very personal story of ambition, corruption, and the eventual downfall of Henry. Scorsese incorporates his own family elements which contrast the way in which the mafia believes that it is its own family. However, Henry has no choice but to testify against his former friends in court following their threat on his life, demonstrating the way in which the mafia does not carry the same unconditional love as family. However, Lopes finds that “in Scorsese’s public story, it was exceedingly rare to read criticism of the portrayal of the Italian American experience found in his biography and films.” Despite the fact that he employs consistent mafia tropes in his films, his portrayal of the Italian American experience remains valuable.
One scene from The Untouchables that was really surprising is the Union Station shootout. It starts off quiet, but suddenly gets intense when a baby carriage accidentally starts rolling down a staircase right in the middle of a gunfight. The whole thing slows down into this suspenseful slow-motion sequence, blending this innocent, everyday moment with extreme violence, making it unexpectedly tense.
Another memorable surprise is the baseball bat scene, where Al Capone is giving a speech about teamwork and unity at a fancy dinner. Everything seems calm and under control until he suddenly, and shockingly, attacks one of his own men with a baseball bat. The sudden switch from friendly leader to ruthless killer catches you completely off guard, showing just how unpredictable and dangerous Capone really is.
I’ve always heard stories about Al Capone, as someone who is from San Francisco because of his imprisonment at Alcatraz, so it makes me wonder—was he actually as unpredictable and violent as portrayed in the movie, or was that mostly dramatized for effect?
One scene from The Untouchables that was really surprising is the Union Station shootout. It starts off quiet, but suddenly gets intense when a baby carriage accidentally starts rolling down a staircase right in the middle of a gunfight. The whole thing slows down into this suspenseful slow-motion sequence, blending this innocent, everyday moment with extreme violence, making it unexpectedly tense.
Another memorable surprise is the baseball bat scene, where Al Capone is giving a speech about teamwork and unity at a fancy dinner. Everything seems calm and under control until he suddenly, and shockingly, attacks one of his own men with a baseball bat. The sudden switch from friendly leader to ruthless killer catches you completely off guard, showing just how unpredictable and dangerous Capone really is.
I’ve always heard stories about Al Capone, as someone who is from San Francisco because of his imprisonment at Alcatraz, so it makes me wonder—was he actually as unpredictable and violent as portrayed in the movie, or was that mostly dramatized for effect?
I found The Untouchables to boil the essence of prohibition crime and Al Capone’s ethos in a clear and exciting way. Many of the mafia movies we have watched leading up to this point have had long winding plots with long acts. The Untouchables was a refreshing break that followed a simpler narrative arc. I found the idea that Mamet viewed the movie as a western to be an exciting idea. The scene of the seizure at the Canadian border is the most reminiscent of classic western motifs. Ness and company ride in on horses with a classic shootout and interrogation. As Mamet describes, the western theme of the old gunfighter and the young gunfighter is the central conflict of the plot. Ness comes into Chicago to try and take down the established power of Capone.
The scene at the train station waiting for the accountant to arrive stood out as a unique and dramatic scene. With action as almost a constant for the rest of the film, the minutes of waiting built the suspense and tension to a high point in the film. During this build up, Ness is confronted with his other defining characteristic: family. When the accountant finally arrives, the simplicity and calmness erupts into all out action. The baby falls down the stairs, people are killed indiscriminately, and Ness dives down the stairs after the baby. In the end he is able to achieve both goals of protecting family and capturing the accountant which leads to Capone. Learning that this scene was basically improvised by De Palma was shocking at first, but upon further reflection makes sense. This scene is the most thematic, relying on the director’s perspective instead of complex dialogue or scene direction.
Brian De Palma’s The Untouchables (1987) is a really good example of the cinematic portrayal of law enforcement’s battle against organized crime during Prohibition. The film dramatizes Eliot Ness’s pursuit of Al Capone, showing how deeply the mafia is embedded within the city’s civic institutions. Tim Pelan’s analysis also underscores how De Palma’s Chicago is depicted as a battleground where justice is constantly challenged by systemic criminal influence.
In my opinion, one of the film’s main strengths lies in its exploration of law enforcement’s ethical dilemmas. Ness begins as a by-the-book officer but quickly realizes that conventional tactics just are not enough to work against Capone’s mafia. Malone, his mentor, pushes Ness to adopt a more pragmatic—if ruthless—approach to justice. This mirrors broader themes in crime films, where the struggle against organized crime often necessitates moral compromises.
Pelan’s article also highlights De Palma’s visual storytelling, particularly his use of striking cinematography and period details to capture the tension of the era. From Robert De Niro’s commanding performance as Capone to the violence of the film’s set pieces, The Untouchables really elevates its narrative and how it strikes the audience through it’s imagery. The Union Station shootout, an homage to Battleship Potemkin, is a great example of how De Palma constructs suspense through meticulous staging.
Ultimately, The Untouchables presents organized crime not just as a force to be defeated but as a pervasive element of society that law enforcement must deal with carefully so as not to compromise their own integrity. The film balances historical drama with high-stakes action, giving us a telling narrative of the challenges of enforcing justice in a corrupt system— as the mafia always forces its opposition to do.
For class on 2/26:
I thought that De Palma’s The Untouchables and the article by Pelan for this class were connected in a very interesting way. For some background, I was really intrigued by The Untoucables since I haven’t watched it before. It was easy to see the style this film used to represent mob conflict during the Prohibition era. This film seems to purposefully lean into the stereotypes of a Hollywood gangster movie, which is something we also discussed in class on Monday. The film makes Al Capone seem larger than life and also ruthless and violent (obviously). The film does this through a variety of scenes which explain the brutality of the mafia, its power structure, and its methodical violence. A lot of the production of this film reminded me of how the plot flowed in The Godfather as well.
Connecting to this, a lot of these principles are explained in Pelan’s article, “Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace: Brian De Palma’s ‘The Untouchables’.” The article describes how this film used elements of history to its advantage. By doing this, The Untouchables was able to (sort of) become a reflection of earlier mafia cinema. Violent scenes in this film certainly connect to films from the 1930s such as Scarface and The Public Enemy, too. This transformation really interested me and I felt like I learned a lot about how history and cinema can intertwine in the homework for this class. In general as well, this all showed how we are able to see topics from this genre such as power, loyalty, and brutality reinterpreted from classics into “modern” films.
For Feb 26: It’s a refreshing change of pace to watch a film where law enforcement is portrayed in a positive light for once. This is because at the time, the mafia image was transforming from cool and charismatic anti-heros to cold and ruthless criminals. The romanticization of the mafia organization’s ambitions were over (previous films like Scarface made you sympathize with the main character). Due to real life mafia figures getting exposed in the late 1970s and 1980s, The Untouchable film released in 1987 satisfied the public’s demand at the time: wanting to see justice served. On another note, it was interesting to read about the success of the film due to its cinematic production. In the article, Pelan highlights screenwriter David Mamet’s approach, noting that Mamet envisioned the story as a Western, focusing on the dynamic between an idealistic young lawman and a disillusioned veteran to better demonstrate character development and moral dilemmas. It was also interesting to read about the ideas behind the filming of the famous Union Station shootout and compare it with the tension I felt while watching the film. It’s interesting to see where past production choices established future cinematic cliches. Overall, I feel in awe of De Palma’s ability to fuse classic gangster films while reinforcing the film’s moral stance.
The Untouchables is the first gangster film we’ve watched that really makes the audience root for law enforcement over the Mafia. Unlike Goodfellas or The Godfather, which immerse us in the mob’s perspective, this film makes it clear from the start that Eliot Ness and his team are the good guys. A big part of that I think comes from how De Palma uses music. Morricone’s score during the raids gives them a sense of purpose and momentum, reinforcing that the Untouchables are forces of justice. Compare that to the scenes with Capone, where the music shifts to something much darker, emphasizing his control over the city. Even visually, the film leans into that contrast. Ness is introduced in a modest, almost anonymous way, while Capone is larger than life, ruling over Chicago from his lavish hotel suite. The film also frames Ness’s journey as a morality test. At first, he sees law enforcement in a rigid, black and white way, but Malone forces him to recognize that bringing down Capone requires more than just following the rules. The “Chicago way” speech is a defining moment, where Ness is confronted with the idea that real justice might require bending his principles. By the time he throws Nitti off the roof, he has fully embraced that mindset. It is a significant shift. His goal was to take down Capone, but the way he gets there shows just how much he has changed along the way.
Brian De Palma’s The Untouchables (1987) portrays the struggle between law enforcement and organized crime in Prohibition Chicago. The film follows Eliot Ness (Kevin Costner) and his team as they try to take down Al Capone (Robert De Niro). In his article Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace: Brian De Palma’s ‘The Untouchables’, Tim Pelan examines how the film blends mafia history accuracy with dramatic storytelling. Pelan discusses screenwriter David Mamet’s approach, inspired by the idea that “tragedy is just heightened melodrama.” De Palma’s use of elaborate cinematography and tension filled action scenes elevates the film beyond a just a simple mafia film even if it wasn’t one of my favorites that we’ve watched so far. Casting plays a key role in any film and De Niro’s portrayal of Capone is amazing despite playing so many different mafia characters over his career. De Palma insisted on casting De Niro, believing his presence would enhance the film’s authenticity. Sean Connery as Jim Malone brings both heart and grit, earning him an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor. Visually, The Untouchables contrasts the ritziness of Capone’s world with the grittier, lawless streets where Ness and his team operate. The cinematography and production design emphasize this divide. Ultimately, The Untouchables transforms this historic crime story into a visually stunning tale of good versus evil. Pelan’s analysis highlights how De Palma’s direction and Mamet’s script turn a this struggle into an timeless cinematic experience.
I think “The Untouchables” did two really cool things when I put it in the context of our class and the topics we’ve been discussing. First, the obvious shift in protagonist perspective is very evident in this film due to the heavy focus on mafia “protagonists” that we’ve seen throughout the course. The protagonist perspective coming from law enforcement this time around is intriguing, especially with the context of all of the films we’ve seen so far. We’ve talked about the immense pressure that the mafia places on law enforcement to create influence and push their agenda, and so far that pressure has been a positive from our main characters perspective. This film however, makes the audience feel that pressure as the protagonist perspective has completely shifted and I think that gives this film a different feel as a viewer.
The second thing that stood out to me came from connecting the film to Pelan’s article and his perspective on the mafia during the prohibition era. I wasn’t aware of the mass crime and gang activity that occurred during the prohibition era, and Pelan helped set the stage with historical context. Knowing this, it’s easy to imagine the intense pressure that law enforcement faced during this time period. With that said, it was a genius move by De Palma to put the audience in the shoes of law enforcement during this time period, not only because it adds a layer of chaos that’s good for drama, but also because it’s able to reflect the time period through storytelling.
The Untouchables flips the gangster narrative on its head–many of the films we have discussed throughout this class have centered on key members of the mafia, either as a direct protagonist or anti-hero figure. In this, though, we are introduced to a new narrative, one that presents cops not as easily swayed and unimportant pawns in the broader game of organized crime, but instead as figures with agency, to impede and eventually even take down mythical gangster figures. Of course, as the article touches on, Al Capone and Eliot Ness never actually met in real life. Still, De Palma takes liberty in his story, as the article notes that he follows the adage, “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.” De Palma employs numerous techniques to make it clear who the heroes and villains of this story are, drawing from figures like Hitchcock and John Ford to create operatic visuals, contrasting Al Capone’s opulent, well-working corruption with Ness’s moral grit. Similarly, the film employs borderline leitmotif practices with its score, notably utilizing heroic melodic themes when Ness and co are on screen, and threatening, almost brooding ones when Capone’s crew is.
How do De Palma’s stylistic flourishes and artistic liberty compare with other directors we’ve discussed this semester, with Coppola’s operatic grandeur and Scorsese’s realism?
One consistent theme I found throughout The Untouchables was that of the “young innocent” that Tim Pelan identified in the article. We see throughout the film these “young innocents”, like the girl at the beginning of the film who is the victim of the car bomb, and the young police officer who gets roped into doing the work to fight the mafia, which later leads to his death. We also see, in the Union Station scene, a mother and her child who we are worrying might be involved in the bloody shootout that the main characters are involved in. I find this to be an interesting point that I have recognized throughout many of the films we have watched so far. Often, people get roped into the mafia and into doing work with the mafia by accident or by necessity, not by want. Many people that get involved with the mafia are in it because they were unable to survive using legitimate routes, and need people to protect them. This assigns them the “young innocent” identity.
I found the interview portion of the article to be especially interesting. I am taking another film class, so I am often thinking about the filming process. It was interesting hearing about the writer’s perspective, as that often goes overlooked. I particularly was struck by what he said about making the script complex enough that the viewer is actively thinking about the movie but not too much that they’re too confused to understand it. This just explained a lot of movies that I’ve seen that felt as though they’re overcomplicated, I now understand it is due to the writer’s desire to confuse the audience just enough so that they have to be thinking. In some cases, they make the script a bit too confusing and I feel that audiences can lose the meaning of the film, but The Untouchables was not too confusing to understand.
Something that was very clear in the movie was the emphasis on family. One thing I noticed was that the movie utilized a lot of dichotomy as well as sharp jumps from one scene to a very different one to convey that family should have no part in the criminal dealing, but it did. For example, there is a scene where Al Capone says “I want this guy dead. I want him dead” and then it cuts to Ness with his baby in a carriage. There are countless scenes that do this exact thing. Additionally, in the beginning the family and crime were very distinct. Whenever it showed the family there was beautiful, light classical music in the background and even the gestures and tone of the husband and wife were soft and delicate. Additionally, when asking about the people who were sharpshooters in the class he made sure they didn’t have families. A similar situation happened when the accountant died and Ness was asked on the phone if he had a family, to which he replied no. Another use of the theme of family in the movie is to convey how truly cruel Al Capone was. Probably the most significant example is the bombing of a shop with a little girl who was trying to do a favor for the man who left his suitcase. This once again shows a dichotomy, which is of a kind little girl and a cruel man.
The theme of family was also evident in the climactic scene of the baby carriage. The article talks about how the scene “emphasises the predicament of Ness as a man representing integrity, family.” This once again shows that family and children shouldn’t be amidst of the violence, but they were and many of Al Capone’s men didn’t even give it a second thought.
Having watched Goodfellas and Untouchables back-to-back was very enjoyable. Both of them obviously depict mafia and mafia men but in entirely different contexts and styles. Both films focus on loyalty, power, and violence, but each one shows it through a different lens.
In Goodfellas, I really liked the narration style of the film. In this movie, we obviously have the story from the perspective of a gang member but not one of the main psychopaths like Tommy. We follow Henry’s fall into paranoia which is symbolized by the helicopter that he thinks is constantly following him. Another part of Goodfellas that I loved was when De Niro’s character, Jimmy, gets the idea to kill Morrie. It’s a moment where the audience can see the gears turning in his head, and it’s chilling. Also, in this movie, there was a heavy emphasis on religion and religious artifacts including crosses and the Last Supper painting visible in the dinner scene at Tommy’s mother’s house.
The Untouchables presented a different take on mafia movies altogether. For the first time in the movies we have seen, we have seen the mafia depicted as entirely in the wrong with no redeeming qualities. De Palma depicts the mafia as nothing more than an industry of violence with its members all rotten to the core. This starts off with the killing of the little girl with the bomb in the beginning of the movie. The mafia was shown to have infected cops, judges and even the mayor and only one crusader with his three other members are able to take on the monstrosity of the mafia. I liked how De Palma often inserted scenes that were not necessary but provided a view at a character’s daily life or some of their inner thoughts, it made the movie feel more real to me. One more thing that I really liked was the scene where Sean Connery insults Andy Garcia to get him mad with that cliché. I found it funny.
One last thing I wanted to talk about was the significance of one scene. It is where Kevin Costner and Sean Connery are talking in the church and they take the blood oath. I think it is extremely significant that the location is a church considering the gravity of the decision that they are making. I might be looking too much into this scene, but in a church, the main event that occurs is the Eucharist, where the priest oversees the transubstantiation of the bread into the Body and the wine into the Blood. I just thought that there was some allusion to this due to it taking place in a church. This emphasizes Ness’ commitment to sacrifice for a greater cause and devotion to this same cause, much like Christ’s sacrifice for the world. By invoking this imagery, the filmmakers may be underscoring the gravity and moral weight of Ness’s mission.
After watching Brian De Palma’s The Untouchables and reading Tim Pelan’s article “Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace”, I began to understand how the themes of Western and crime drama highlighted the moral struggle between the law enforcement and organized crime. In The Untouchables, De Palma follows Eliot Ness and his team’s attempt to dethrone Al Capone in a 1930s Chicago setting. Tim Pelan’s “Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace” analyzes and explores the narrative and stylistic choices of De Palma’s film, discovering that the film has a sort of melodramatic yet heroic approach to Ness and Malone’s dynamic as it portrays Ness as the young, free lawman and Malone as his strict mentor. Additionally, the film tends to present the worlds of Capone and Ness in two different contrasts with Capone’s being a more lavish and luxurious lifestyle while Ness’ is more modest, which emphasizes how corruption has a tight grip on the city. The film furthers by drastically increasing the stakes through Malone’s murder, which fuels Ness’ determination to destroy Capone’s empire. De Palma’s film reaches its climax as Capone is convicted for tax evasion, marking Ness’ victory but also making him reflect on the personal toll that the chase has taken on him. I do like the idea of the film making Ness realize that in his idealistic world, he can present as much freedom as possible, but there will come a time where he has to set those ideals aside and make both sacrifices and hard choices.
The Untouchables is a refreshing shift from the typical mafia films we have been watching. Instead of glamorizing the gangster lifestyle or blurring moral lines, it presents a straightforward battle between good and evil. Eliot Ness starts as the ultimate rule-follower, but he quickly realizes the very system meant to uphold justice is riddled with corruption. To fight back, he assembles a team of trustworthy officers. Yet, even Ness cannot stay completely clean—his obsession with taking down Capone leads him to morally questionable choices, like shoving Nitti off the roof. The film makes it clear that justice is not black and white, and even the so-called “good guys” are not immune to compromise.
Tim Pelan’s article makes a great point about how De Palma approached The Untouchables like a classic Western. Ness and his team act as sheriffs trying to restore order in a lawless city, a stark contrast to films like The Godfather and Goodfellas, where the criminals are the ones we root for. De Palma’s visuals reinforce this divide—Capone’s world is flashy and excessive, while Ness operates in plain, no-frills spaces. Pelan also highlights the Union Station shootout as one of De Palma’s best stylistic choices, using slow motion and dramatic tension rather than typical action, paying tribute to Battleship Potemkin. These elements make The Untouchables a stylish yet morally distinct take on the crime genre.
Brian De Palma’s The Untouchables marks a clear departure from the glorification of organized crime seen in earlier films like 1983 Scarface. While Scarface draws audiences into the rise and fall of Tony Montana, The Untouchables flips the script, making the audience root for law enforcement in their battle against Al Capone’s empire.
One of the most striking scenes that solidifies this shift is the Union Station shootout. As Eliot Ness and his men prepare to ambush Capone’s smugglers, the tension builds with slow-motion cinematography and in the score. When the violence erupts, the framing makes it clear that the Untouchables are the heroes who are struggling against overwhelming criminal forces.
Another key moment is the rooftop confrontation between Ness and Frank Nitti. Unlike mafia films where ruthless killers are often admired for their tactics, Nitti is portrayed as a cowardly villain. His desperate attempt to escape and Ness’s ultimate decision to throw him off the roof reinforce the moral stakes and underscore how justice rather than crime is glorified.
Unlike Scarface, which invites audiences to indulge in the excesses of the criminal underworld, The Untouchables constructs a narrative where law enforcement, not gangsters, are given the spotlight.
Brian De Palma’s 1987 Film The Untouchables details the story of the infamous gangster Al Capone and his illegal liquor trade empire. The movie follows prohibition agent Eliot Ness as he tries to take down Al Capone, but he is met with corruption in the city’s police department. He assembles a team of elite and loyal police officers to help him bring Capone to justice. In his article “Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace: Brian De Palma’s ‘The Untouchables,’ Tim Pelan quoted screenwriter David Mamet’s description of The Untouchables and Brian De Palma’s directorial style: “Tragedy is just heightened melodrama.” This quote made me reflect on just how relevant melodrama was to this film. One example of this was the relationship between Elliot Ness and Al Capone, featuring highly emotional and dramatic confrontations. This is seen in the clash between Capone’s corruption and Ness’s moral obligations. Furthermore, De Palma embodied this feature of melodrama in his visual and narrative techniques, such as slow motion and the score itself. These techniques were aimed to create suspense, often leading to the audience feeling the tension and stress unfolding on screen. While watching The Untouchables, I thought about the similarities it had to a Western. Similarly to how Mamet thought of the movie, I was struck by the classic Western theme of “the old gunfighter and the young gunfighter” and the cynical veteran and idealistic lawman. I really liked the film’s portrayal of Prohibition era Chicago, particularly in the first scene. The movie opens with a stylistic homage to George Lucas, with a film noir title sequence as Al Capone receives various beauty treatments in his luxurious hotel room as reporters wait to speak to him. The on screen text paints a vivid picture of Prohibition era Chicago, telling the audience it transformed Chicago into a city of war, with rival gangs competing for the city’s control: “It is the time of Ganglords. It is the time of Al Capone.” I loved this opening for the movie – I think the stylistic depiction of Capone and the effective illustration of this era in Chicago established the film really well.
March 3rd: The phrase “why don’t you go down to Wall Street and get some real crooks?” Is a line that is said in Scorsese’s movie, Goodfellas. This statement is powerful as it ties in main themes of the movie as well as makes a social commentary remark on social economic and ethnic divides within corporate America. Both Wall Street and organized crime have the same goes of obtaining money and power, almost to a disastrous fault. However, Wall Street has a connotation of luxury, white collar crime, while organized crime is more street level crime. This remark on the desire to obtain massive amounts of money and power are seen not just within Scorsese’s “Goodfellas” but also within “Casino”. As the article states, “each film deals incisively with various forms of masculinity, particularly hyper masculinity, through the prisms of class, ethnicity, violence, and consumerism”. The main theme in both Casino and Goodfellas is the exploration of masculinity, crime, and the corruptive nature of capitalism. Scorsese makes the claim that men prove their masculinity through displays of power, wealth, and violence, which is the world of organized crime portrayed in “Goodfellas” and the high-stakes, aggressive, hustler culture of life in “Casino” which could potentially lead to unchecked greed. These two films portray the pursuit of wealth and status as a dangerous obsession, often leading to destructive behaviors and moral decay. This pursuit of wealth and status is a common theme within mafia movies thus far within the semester, illustrating how the idea of the American Dream can lead to unethical practices.
Casino was a very interesting take on the mafia movie genre as we move from the east coast to Las Vegas, taking a closer look at another variation of corruption. It’s similarities to Goodfellas are uncanny – the multiple voiceover, the pure Italian Pesci who makes impulsively violent decisions, the captivating dynamic with the protagonist’s wife, the overall, looming threat that hovers above of Rimo and his mafia men puppeteering all operations. A specific line from The Untouchables, when Malone talks about if one brings a knife to a fight you must bring a gun, is even replicated in this film. While the similarities to other mafia movies are interesting to analyze, the reading suggests an even more intriguing angle: how putting three of Scorsese’s main films together (Goodfellas, Casino, and The Wolf of Wall Street) as a trilogy creates a fascinating narrative critiquing masculinity and capitalism – and how the two interact seamlessly within one another. In regard to Casino, the film’s business is a complete “metaphor for and a manifestation of speculative capitalism”. The movie shows how the capitalistic system is in favor of ruthless, immoral men who assert their masculinity either through violence (like Nicky), or through consumerism and flashy appearances (like Ace). The system is depicted as only capable of rewarding those who commit illegal acts: “‘Back home, they would have put me in jail for what I’m doing,’ Ace says in voice-over while he receives an award from a country club. ‘But out here, they’re giving me awards.’” Casino takes the corruption shown in past mafia films and normalizes them in a legal, financial context so as to critique capitalism itself. This thus forces the audience to be introspective and realize the reality of their own American Dream, questioning how “pure” and “clean” achieving such really is.
One thing that stuck out to me from Scorsese’s Casino was the strength of stylistic devices employed to transport the audience into the 1970s. Though we have seen many films that are retelling history, Casino truly had the “period piece” feel that is referenced in the article as a result of consuming attention to detail. The film draws a lot of attention to the consumption of the characters, especially through Ace’s suits, which become more colorful and lavish as he becomes more powerful. The outfits and jewelry also seem to follow the volatile trajectory of the casino’s success. Through depictions of the ornate casino, gaudy homes, and the warm-soft lighting of Nevada the film creates a feeling of a different time. Perhaps as a result of the length of the film and slow movement of the plot, the audience gets steeped in the 1970s setting. The narrative style also submerges the audience into the world of the film by providing context, commentary, and motivations in the voiceovers. The narration provides lots of information, sometimes overwhelming amounts, that emphasize the chaos and pace of the world being portrayed in Casino. Often the narration contradicts what is unfolding on screen which emphasizes the discordant perceptions of the various characters and constantly shifting power dynamics. The abundance of details thrown at the audience both contextualize and simulate the chaos of Las Vegas which creates a feeling of almost first-hand experience for the audience through sensory details.
I found it quite interesting to watch and compare two films created by the same director especially in the context of our conversation about the trend in this time period of directors taking over the former role of the production companies, adding their own identifiable signatures to the films they create. Even before reading the article, which spells out many of the similarities between Goodfellas and Casino, I noticed several commonalties between the two films. For example, in both films, the FBI plays a large role in the downfall of our main character. In older mafia movies, the FBI is not yet on to the mafia or at least we do not see it. However, in both of the Scorsese films they have a significant presence. Additionally, I thought it was a very interesting parallel ending to see both main characters moving to a small town and living life as a normal person, or as Henry would say “a schnook.” In Goodfellas, Henry Hill ends up entering the Witness Protection Program and moving to a small suburban town. In Casino, Ace moves out of Vegas and leads a much quieter life after surviving the assassination attempt. Looking beyond storylines, I also noticed the same continuous movements of the camera with the classic voice over that we talked about in Goodfellas. This voice-over narration technique reminded me a lot of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I also noticed that there was similarly a lot of background music in Casino. Even in scenes where we are focused on the conversation taking place, there is music playing. For example, this happens in the scene around 1 hour and 12 minutes where Ginger is asking for $25,000. Lastly, at the end of Casino when Nicky is beat and buried, I was reminded of the burial scene in Goodfellas. Another commonality between the two films is that they were extremely gruesome and brutal.
Scorsese leverages “Auteur Theory” and uses many of the same stylistic techniques in Casino that he used in Goodfellas. There are numerous long takes with camera movement following the actors walking though scenes that make the spectator feel as if they’re in the movie. There are some freeze frames with a narrative to accentuate climatic moments. He also uses the camera to zoom in and out for dramatic effect. He makes use of a few narrators to draw the spectator in as if we’re being told a story from an insiders’ view point versus just watching a story.
Scorsese starts the movie, just like in Goodfellas, with an act of violence that will be shown and be explained later in the movie. This opening was particularly interesting for a few reasons. First, it leads us to believe that the character involved, Ace Rothstein (Lefty Rosenthal in real life) will die when his car blows up. Second, it goes into a long opening credit scene, a mosaic, with a background of fire and Ace’s falling body. The background then turns to flashing lights most likely symbolizing the flashing lights of Vegas without Ace’s falling body. Then the background returns to fire with Ace’s falling body returning, possibly the fire representing hell. Throughout all of this, the background music sounds like a religious church choir. Third, as we find out at the end of the movie, it’s a bit of a “rug pull” as we see that of the three main protagonists, Ace is the only one that escapes death. He’s also the only one that isn’t tremendously compromised from a moral point of view.
Again, as in Goodfellas, it doesn’t show the mafia in a great light as we see the action and drama more from the lower-level mafia men and associates. It’s less glamorous and less principle-based then what we saw in viewing the Dons in the Godfather. When we do see the Dons/bosses, they’re shown in a very different light then in the Godfather. The few scenes they’re in show them in the back of an Italian market not looking at all impressive or powerful or worthy of respect.
I wonder if part of this was cultural in the 80’s and 90’s as the “shine” had worn off the mafia. Rudi Guliani (before he went wacko) started successfully prosecuting high-ranking mafia men with many getting long prison sentences. The omerta was crumbling as people spoke to get better deals for themselves or get put in witness protection. The bosses were getting whacked by underlings. And to offset the Teflon Don John Gotti, Chin Gigante would wonder around Greenwich Village in a bathrobe to feign being mentally unfit to stand trial, which worked for a while.
I also wonder whether this was a true mafia movie or a failed love story where the protagonists just worked in or with or around the mafia. Ace should have had Ginger whacked when she messed around with the chips in her opening seen. Would have saved everyone a lot of time and money and annoying subplots. But he got hit by the thunderbolt.
Separately, be on the lookout for the new mafia movie Alto Knights, starring Robert DeNiro (of course) about mob bosses Genovese and Costello (somehow DeNiro will paly both) coming to a theater near you later this month. Directed by Barry Levinson.
Casino to me draws a lot of parallels to Goodfellas and can almost be seen as a sequel even though the plots are quite different. The first similarity that really jumps out at me is the narration style. In both of the movies there is a narrator telling the story from their own perspective. In Goodfellas I pointed out that Karen was one of the narrators which was a big departure from normal mafia films where women don’t tend to have a primary role. In this film it is the two main mobsters that are narrating the story which gives two very different perspectives because of how different the two characters are. One of them is Nicky who is played by Joe Pesci. He is extremely violent and plays a very similar role to his character in Goodfellas. This contrasts with Sam who tries to be more level headed and is not seen doing any acts of violence in the film. Even though it seems like Goodfellas was the more popular film out of the two, I felt that Casino had a much deeper plot and hit harder than Goodfellas. They both had a typical rise and fall of power, but with Casino it was different. The high was so incredibly high because they were running a whole entire Casino and the fall down period was extremely prolonged. My first thought after watching the movie was that the downfall with Sam’s wife was stretched out way too long and went into too much unnecessary detail. I also thought that this made the last third of the movie very predictable and the nail was put on the coffin when Nicky had an affair with Ginger. However, after thinking about it more I believe that Scorsese did that on purpose to amplify the feeling of the destruction of their power. It made their downfall even more gruesome and grueling.
After our discussion in class about Scorsese’s directorial “signature,” I found his trademark shots hard to miss in Casino. The casino tables lend themselves perfectly to the angles from above, and the gaudiness of the Las Vegas strip plays into the Baroque aspect of his detail-rich shots. Perhaps because I was paying attention to these similarities, as well as other aspects like the soundtrack and voiceover, I did find that the movie felt a little repetitive. The comedic elements, abrasive violence, and wife character felt too similar between the two movies, and without the novelty of the film style, I found that I liked the Casino less. Honestly, I think I would have appreciated the film more without having seen Goodfellas first, but I can respect that Scorsese was establishing his directorial style. In this way, I tend to agree with the reviews quoted in Moloney’s article, that Casino is “old territory already travelled” (Bondanella 279) [and] “GoodFellas removed to Las Vegas” (Friedman 175).
I did find the article’s discussion of gender roles and the difference between Nicky and Ace’s characters to be interesting. I particularly liked how the characters’ wardrobes, such as Ace’s pastel suits, were illustrative of their values. For example, Ace cared more about being respected and viewed as a legitimate and affluent man, which was reflected in his wealth of light-colored clothing. In this way, he challenged the typical mafia view of masculinity, which is shown through Nicky’s exaggerated violence. While we have seen how the mafioso’s rise can be demonstrated in their clothing, this movie utilizes the costuming in a unique way to set up a foil between the two central men.
The movie Casino was a very long and interesting film. While I was watching I couldn’t help but compare it to Goodfellas. As noted by the reading as well, Martin Scorsese does a great job throughout the films of sweeping the viewer into the “life” it’s portraying. I think that this happens through the narration and the simplicity of the depiction of this “life”. Casino specifically focuses on the intricate detail of the day-to-day life in the casinos, including who’s watching who on the floor and how it runs – which I found to be very interesting. The way in which the narrator explains how the casino runs is very straightforward and it allows the viewer to feel like these actions and this “life” are normal as opposed to illegal. It is a way for the viewer to gain empathy toward the main characters, especially when the films end “badly” for them. Throughout the film the actions become more and more intense which grows with the intensity of the plot. I also found there to be a few scenes that were very hard to watch because they were so gruesome. Specifically, the scene where Nicky and his brother were killed was, although not alone in violence, one of the more gruesome scenes in the movie – at least for me. I thought this film particularly highlighted how the everyday actions of people like Ace were so intertwined with organized crime. I also enjoyed seeing the same shot types Scorsese used in Goodfellas and how in just 5 years there was so much development in the producing and editing of movies.
Moloney touches on this quite a bit but I can see very clearly how this film serves as a rather explicit critique of the ruthless evolution of capitalism by putting the mob-like business in the same sphere as legitimate business, effectively blurring the lines between the two by showcasing the mutual practices in both spaces. The vehicle for this sort of juxtaposition and, yet simultaneous parallelism, between legitimate business and mafia business is mirrored in the dual narrative between Rothstein and Santoro, a technique that is a signature of Scorsese films. I think it also fairly interesting that Rothstein rather frequently speaks within the confines of the “system” and usually rationalizes everything he does with business while Santoro is more loose and unfiltered which creates a separation between the two although, ultimately, what they want and what they do at its very core aren’t much different at all. Also tying into Moloney’s conversation regarding masculinity, it’s particularly apparent that Santoro and Rothstein exemplify clashing perceptions of masculinity characterized by ruthless aggression and calm logic, respectively.
Casino feels like a natural continuation of Goodfellas, but instead of focusing on street-level gangsters, it shifts to the world of high-stakes business. Ace Rothstein is different from Henry Hill. He is disciplined, methodical, and determined to make the casino run as smoothly as possible. Yet, no matter how much success he achieves, he is still bound by the same unwritten rules of the mob. No matter how much power he seems to have, he is always at the mercy of forces larger than him.
The Moloney reading connects Casino to Goodfellas and The Wolf of Wall Street, arguing that all three films critique capitalism and masculinity in different ways. What struck me about Casino in particular is how it makes the most direct comparison between criminal and corporate America. Unlike Henry Hill, who sees crime as an escape from working-class struggles, Ace operates within a system that looks completely legitimate on the surface but is just as corrupt underneath. The film constantly blurs the line between legal and illegal business, showing how violence and exploitation are at the heart of both. Even as Ace tries to run the casino like a professional, his success is always dependent on the mob’s approval. The more he tries to maintain control, the more unstable everything becomes.
Stylistically, Casino builds on many of the techniques that made Goodfellas so engaging. The near-constant voiceover narration keeps the film moving at a rapid pace, immersing us in the characters’ thoughts and giving us multiple perspectives on the events unfolding. Scorsese also uses freeze frames at key moments, which I found interesting because they emphasize pivotal turning points, almost as if the characters themselves are momentarily frozen in realization before everything spirals out of control. The fast cuts, dynamic camera movements, and pop soundtrack all contribute to a sense of energy and momentum, even as the story becomes more chaotic.
The quote in the reading that stuck out to me the most was “By seducing viewers into this world and implicating them in the characters’ actions, the film creates empathy with characters who would typically be dehumanized as part of the criminal working class.” I felt like this encapsulated a lot of the points within the article as well as how these mafia movies are so enjoyable/successful. Viewers are pulled into the worlds of these characters in close and intimate ways. In Casino especially, the need to hide one’s actions and conversations is very important. Because of this, the viewer of the movie is able to feel intimately involved in conversations that a bystander could not. The scenes of Ace and Nicky talking in his car with the radio on or in the desert surrounded by nothing but sand bring you extremely close to the characters and the plot. This level of intimacy almost inherently creates a positive connection between the viewer and the main character. You experience these moments of stress and intensity with them and, as the article wrote, “not as a passive spectator, but an accomplice”. Another point they discussed was the important distinction made that the main characters are shown to clearly not enjoy killing for its own sake “only the material comforts these acts provide him”. Unlike Joe Pesci’s side character roles in Goodfellas and Casino, Ace and Henry are both shown in multiple circumstances where they flinch and turn away from the killings or murders they witness or take part in and are only seen smiling later when they reap the benefits. It is another way the viewer ends up almost rooting for these characters that, from an outside perspective, are pretty violent criminals.
While watching Casino, a few thematic and stylistic elements stuck out to me most. One stylistic element that I found interesting was the use of lighting. In various scenes throughout the film, dramatic lighting often shines directly onto Sam, almost in a god-like way. For example, we see this lighting on him when he finds Ginger on the phone with Lester on the day of their wedding, as well as when Sam and Nicki are in an establishment outside of Las Vegas talking about how Nicki was in the black book. I think this could have been depicting the perception of Sam as a legitimate businessman with strong values, which sharply contrasted the depiction of Nicki’s seemingly senseless violence. However, I think by creating such a stark contrast between the characters, the film acknowledges that Sam’s “legitimacy” was really not much better than the brutal violence carried out by Nicki, as Sam’s rise to the top was made possible because of the mafia’s work. In the article, “Why Don’t You Go Down to Wall Street and Get Some Real Crooks?”: Capitalism and Masculinity in GoodFellas, Casino, and The Wolf of Wall Street,” Moloney highlights the parallels that exist between a mafia employee and a typical corporate employee. Because the film’s protagonist a non-Italian businessman who seemingly operates within the boundaries of the law, Casino questions the meaning of “legitimacy” by blurring the lines between apparently “legitimate” business and the mafia’s organized crime.
Another thematic element that I am curious about discussing was the repetition of the concept of “back home” vs. “over here” throughout the film. I felt like by constantly using the word “back” when describing “home” and the mafia bosses’ base, Sam was associating the mafia’s activity with something that was behind him or in his past. In contrast, Las Vegas was described as the here and now. I think not only through this language, but also through the imagery of the fast-paced metropolitan lifestyle of Las Vegas in the movie, the city was depicted as the exciting, modern way of the future for Sam. I’m not sure if this was intentional at all, but it almost reminded me of the much larger picture of the context of the mafia in Sicily compared to the U.S. and how this has been depicted in some of the films we’ve seen. While the mafia originated in Sicily, the way forward for the mafia was planting its roots in U.S. soil, where it could continue to grow and expand. I felt like many connections could be drawn between the backwardness of the mafia operations “back home” vs. the business operations in Las Vegas and the backwardness of mafia operations in Sicily vs. the business operations of the mafia in the U.S. in the early-mid 1900s. This was further emphasized for me in Casino during a conversation between Nicki and Sam when Nicki says Later Nicki says “the more I talk to you the more I think you don’t wanna go along with me.” As the movie goes on, Sam attempts to leave behind the violent, backward mafia operations that Nicki is so entangled in rather than “go along” on the route that ultimately leads to Nicki’s (and many others’) death.
What I find most interesting about Casino is how it takes the themes of power and excess from Goodfellas and reframes them through the lens of control and taste. In Goodfellas, Henry Hill indulges in wealth recklessly—money, clothes, cars, everything is a symbol of his rise, but it’s all about immediate gratification. In Casino, Ace Rothstein sees consumption differently. His obsession with precision, from his perfectly matched suits to the exact number of blueberries in a muffin, isn’t just vanity—it’s his way of asserting dominance.
What really stood out to me was how Ace’s masculinity is tied to his sense of taste. Instead of using brute force like Nicky, he exerts control through refinement. The scene where he mocks Lester for not knowing what a “good watch” is says it all—Ace doesn’t just have money, he knows how to spend it properly. But what’s fascinating is that despite all this focus on aesthetics, there’s very little actual enjoyment. The film bombards us with music, luxury, and spectacle, yet the characters are emotionally detached from it all. It’s almost as if Ace, Nicky, and Ginger are just going through the motions, proving their worth through consumption rather than actually living.
Compared to Goodfellas, which feels more impulsive and alive, Casino is colder, more calculated. Both films show how the pursuit of power ultimately leads to destruction, but Casino makes it feel inevitable, like Ace was doomed from the start because he put too much faith in a system that could never truly be controlled.
Scorsese’s Casino illustrates the auteur theory we discussed in class, employing distinctive storytelling techniques such as extensive voiceovers, choreographed camera movement, impressive montage sequences, and stylized color and lighting to tell the story of the rise and fall of mafia authority over the Las Vegas casinos. As described in Maloney’s piece, Casino is part of a larger narrative that highlights the transition to financial capitalism in the neoliberal era, conveyed in the film’s final minutes with Ace’s comment regarding the shift to legitimate authorities. Like Goodfellas, Casino begins by establishing a conflict that the audience anticipates throughout the film, as tension builds between Ace and Nicky’s complicated relationship. I was particularly interested in Maloney’s analysis of how the film critiques the diverging forms of masculinity. Nicky, played by Joe Pesci, uses violence to assert his dominance and convey his masculinity to the point of becoming a caricature of the mafia stereotype, embodying the same attitude and values as Tommy in Goodfellas. The pen-stabbing scene contrasts his character with Ace, who is never seen killing someone yet thrives in a system of organized crime that grants him opportunities to conduct his orders of business. Ace projects his masculinity through what Maloney calls conspicuous consumerism, sporting overtly large sunglasses and tailored flashy suits that reminded me of Rupert Pupkin in King Of Comedy. Scorsese also explored this theme in Goodfellas through the flaunting of fur jackets, imported furniture, and jewelry; what’s worth noting is how both female characters in these films embrace this conspicuous consumerism and become entirely dependent on it. I thought that placing Ace’s flashy appearance against the desert setting characteristic of the Western genre underscores this fixation, highlighting the excess of Las Vegas.
After watching Casino, I can see why so many people draw comparisons between it and Scorsese’s other films such as Goodfellas. While the two films were released five years apart, both portray the downfall of those who engage in the mafia lifestyle. I agree with Giovanni’s response in that Casino almost appears to be a commentary on capitalism, with organized crime running a respected institution. In Scorsese’s America, greed and ambition are rewarded. The success of the criminal world parallels the way in which the U.S. rewards unfair and often disingenuous business practices. In many films and media, Vegas is symbolic of unchecked greed and capitalism, illustrating a greater moral decay in America. Ace’s personal struggle revolves around losing control of his life. While Vegas initially presented a good opportunity for him to be successful, the fragility of mafia relationships shattered this illusion and led to his downfall. From a narrative perspective, Casino is very similar to Goodfellas, with Scorsese using non linear storytelling to reveal what happens to key characters. Other stylistic choices, such as long shots, a high amount of narration, period music soundtracks, and violence, remain consistent with Scorsese’s film style.
The shift from mob rule in Vegas to that of corporate conglomerates is a fascinating metaphor about the true nature of the American Dream, what we consider to be “legally” acceptable, and the contrast between organized crime and corporate transgression. In Casino, we witness Sam “Ace” Rothstein’s rise and fall as the mafia head of the Tangiers Casino in Vegas. The casino is a vehicle for the mob to skim millions of dollars in cash. However, despite the steady, level-headed “Ace,” the cast of characters (and what they represent) corrode his power and control, ultimately leading to an FBI Investigation and the transition to corporate rule. Ace’s love interest, Ginger McKenna, a high-end hustler, has an affair with Nicky, Ace’s childhood friend and violent enforcer who goes on a crime spree, and the two, through their actions, undermine Ace’s rule. Ginger ultimately becomes addicted to drugs, becomes paranoid, and overdoses, and Nicky is murdered by mob enforcers for his recklessly violent actions. In the midst of all this, Ace’s rule is corrupted and the FBI begins to investigate the casino and it is taken over by a corporate conglomerate. This film highlights the corruption of the American Dream and how oftentimes, it is those around you in these violent, chaotic worlds, who corrupt the dream. It emphasizes control (Ace) vs chaos (Ginger and Nicky) and loyalty vs betrayal–all traditional mafia motifs. I think a particularly striking theme is the illusion of glamour. I read an article that stated that the film spent over a million dollars on costumes with De Niro having over seventy and Stone having over forty–a seemingly ridiculous amount that cements this illusionary nature of success. As Moloney’s article points out, Scorsese’s energetic camera work and rapid editing, in addition to his costumes, create this chaotic world that shows both the fantasy-esque success of this violent industry and the harsh, cruel fall from power that occurs. I think the transition from mob rule to corporate is also very interesting. Where Goodfellas and Casino depict traditional organized crime, Wolf of Wall Street shows corporate greed. What both films have in common is this idea of hypermasculinity and systematic corruption–an interesting insight into the world of high power, wealth, and “success.” While one route is deemed legally and morally acceptable, the other is seen as cruel and wicked. But I could argue that the mafia world is in fact the most honest and truest form of the American Dream without the smoke screens and mirrors of the corporate world. Is it better for corruption to come in a noticeable form or hidden in a digestible manner? Scorese shows both in his countless films and it is interesting to see the parallels in not only the themes, but also the way these films are shot–designed to evoke similar patterns and motifs.
I Cento Passi was a perfect example of what was discussed in this chapter of Cosa Nostra. This chapter talks about the mafia’s fight against the government of Italy, and this film is a biographical retelling of this fight on a smaller scale. This film allowed us to identify with Peppino, and gave us a personal count of the violence of the mafia in its’ resistance against the Italian government. We get to know Peppino, and to like his character and root for his success, but then he gets killed and is not avenged until much later. It is difficult to consider that this is a true story. But this was the reality in Palermo, the mafia wars with the government claimed many lives, and those who spoke out against the mafia were particularly in danger. As explained in Cosa Nostra, in the war against the Italian government, the mafia carried out many bombings and personal attacks on government officials who tried to enact policy against them, and on those who tried to protect and support them. The beginning of the chapter details a very emotional resistance to the mafia. It talks about the wives of victims of the mafia, like Vito Schifani’s wife, Rosaria, who gave a “harrowing voice to her own desolation and to a city’s rage” (410). This led to people repeating her words, asking the Mafiosi to kneel and become men of God to repent for their sins, and creating many other signs on bedsheets to outline their requests to stop the mafia and to save their city. Cosa Nostra also details her emotional speech at the funeral, including when she broke a glass without realizing it due to the weight of her agony. The actions of the mafia directly impacted families across Italy, something that often goes unnoticed in media depictions of the mafia that glorify the violence and the riches they incur.
Marco Tullio Giordana’s film “I Cento Passi”, or “One Hundred Steps” tells the story of Peppino Impastato as he takes a stand against the Mafia in Sicily. The film also follows Tano Baldalamenti, the mafia boss in the small town of Cinisi. The powerful title refers to the one hundred steps it takes to get from Peppino Impastato’s house to Tano Baldalamenti’s house. John Dickie’s chapter from “Costa Nostra” titled “Bombs and Submersion 1992 – 2003” also discusses examples of resistance to the Mafia. The film ends with the murder of Peppino Impastato, emphasizing the risks of opposing the Mafia. Similarly, the chapter talks about how the Mafia retaliated against Judge Falcone and Judge Borsellino who created anti-Mafia laws. In the same way the community honored Peppino, people also rallied behind the judges, showcasing the effects on the community. Throughout the film, the audience hopes for the best for Peppino, especially due to the fact that it is a true story, and we become personally attached to his character, making his death more emotional and impactful. Toward the beginning of the chapter, Dickie details personal effects of the Mafia, as he discusses the wives of men who retaliated and were killed. I found it really interesting how Peppino broadcasted his opposition to the Mafia on his radio show “Radio Aut.” Further, as stated by Dickie, Peppino also wrote the article “La Mafia è una montagna di merda,” meaning “Mafia: a mountain of shit,” highlighting Peppino’s devotion to fighting the Mafia. Both the film and the chapter emphasize the powerful impact of individual’s resistance against the Mafia, detailing the sacrifices made in order to fight for morality.
The reading shows how the mafia changed after the early 90s. At first, they were attacking the state directly, killing judges, bombing cities, trying to scare the government into backing off. Instead, it led to crackdowns, arrests, and stricter prison conditions. When that didn’t work, the mafia switched tactics. They stopped drawing attention and focused on blending in, using corruption instead of violence to stay in power.
The movie focuses on someone who didn’t accept the mafia’s control. Peppino grew up in it, but instead of staying quiet, he fought back. He used radio to call out the corruption everyone knew was there but wouldn’t talk about. His murder plays out the same way as the assassinations in the reading. The mafia kills him and tries to cover it up, hoping no one will care enough to push back.
Both the movie and the reading show how the mafia operates when it’s challenged. They use violence when they think they can get away with it, then go quiet when the backlash is too strong. The movie makes it personal, showing what it costs to resist. The reading follows what happened after, when the mafia stopped making headlines but didn’t go away.
In Casino, Martin Scorsese builds on themes central in GoodFellas, such as greed, hypermasculinity, and the illusion of control, to make a more brutal commentary on capitalism, showing how the pursuit of power and wealth in a corrupt system inevitably leads to self-destruction. Similar to GoodFellas, Casino uses electric energy, voice-over narration, and a pop soundtrack to demonstrate the fun side of this life, but in Casino, it’s even higher risk, higher reward.
Moloney in the reading highlights how GoodFellas critiques the American Dream by exposing the moral absence of the mafia lifestyle. Casino takes it one step further by shifting the focus to the shiny, yet deeply corrupt, world of Las Vegas. Robert De Niro’s Ace Rothstein believes he has mastered the system, puppeteering and controlling every aspect of his casino empire. Time goes on, however, and it becomes clear that Ace’s control is a facade. Like the appearingly almighty Henry Hill in GoodFellas, Ace is broken down by his own arrogance and the chaos rooted in the greed, betrayal, and the inherent instability of the system he once thrived in.
However, it is Scorsese’s portrayal of Las Vegas as this quintessential microcosm of capitalism is where Casino distinguishes itself from its former pair. The casino’s are filled with flashing lights and a promise that any man could walk out filthy rich. The entire thing is a lie built on exploitation of temptation and moral gymnastics. Ace’s downfall is deeply personal, but it is also meant to highlight the systemic factors. Through his structural collapse, Casino gets at this idea that there is no happy ending in this game, just a story that hasn’t ended tragically yet. I thought it was a theme intentionally expanded on in Casino, with a more general commentary on unchecked ambition and capitalism.
I think what is fundamentally different about I Cento Passi (The Hundred Steps) is that instead of centering on a charismatic gangster, it follows Peppino, a figure of resistance. Despite being born into a Mafia-connected family, Peppino rejects his father’s loyalty to local boss Gaetano Badalamenti. Instead of falling into the criminal world like Michael Corleone, Peppino wages a public battle against it. Through his radio station, Radio Aut, he exposes Mafia corruption with satire and journalism, although making himself a target in the process.
Furthermore, unlike traditional Mafia movies, which often depict organized crime as a thrilling, powerful institution, I Cento Passi deconstructs its myth. The Mafia here is not seductive but oppressive, a force that suffocates the local Sicilian community. Peppino’s struggle is not about gaining power for himself—it’s about breaking his people free from it. His assassination at the hands of the Mafia is not a cliche act of betrayal within the criminal world like most films but a brutal attempt to silence the truth. It is dark and honest.
The film reminds us that real Mafia stories aren’t just about those who run it—but those who dare to resist it. Peppino’s defiance, though fatal, sparks a legacy that exposes the Mafia’s crimes. In a genre that often romanticizes organized crime, I think I Cento Passi offers something fundamentally different by telling a story of resistance.
With this class’s theme focusing on the anti-mafia movie, I think we can clearly see how “I cento passi” functions within anti-mafia rhetoric. The most simplistic way to summarize the plot is that a boy rejects the mafia and his family’s ties to it. But what I find more interesting is the extent to which this film fills the anti-mafia niche. I admit, I am not well versed in different schools of political and economic thought, but using the communist perspective and introducing it through Stefano Venuti seems like an interesting way to present an anti-mafia argument. When we first see the communist side introduced, it is presented via Venuti’s speech in the street where he critiques the construction of the airport, the interests of big corporations, involvement of the military, and the government’s greed. While I don’t know the history behind Venuti’s ideologies or speeches, I felt this was a push against rationalization in Sicily (rejection of efficiency, predictability, and the standing legal-rational authority in Italy in some regard). This is particularly curious when we consider the mafia’s origins in Sicily and that, as we read in Dickie, the mafia becomes a protection and resistance to rationalization in Italy with the institution of centralized government. Despite these origins, I think both organizations inevitably devolve as they become more expansive and thus come to depend on rationalization, to some extent, to maintain their presence. With the mafia, there is a hierarchy established, and the power of certain mafioso positions lies in the title and not the person. For the communists, we see Peppino begin to give orders and transmit organizational information through technology with his radio station while also starting to become a hierarchical figure himself. I think the continued juxtaposition of these two camps is interesting, but particularly in the context of framing Peppino’s story as profoundly anti-mafia on the basis of his communist interests.
I did not know what to expect from the movie, I cento passi, but I loved it. A beautiful film that highlights the resistance to the mafia. This follows the theme that has been developing about the portrayal of the mafia as evil and antagonists in the last few mafia movies we have seen. I found many similarities, stylistically, between this movie and the untouchables. I loved seeing the movie to the story that we had recently read for this class.
I thought that the introduction of the characters was done marvelously with the death of peppino’s uncle being obvious foreshadowing to what was to come for peppino himself. I also liked how in the movie no gore or dead bodies were shown, it was implicit and I think done in a way to not detract from the message of the movie which was to show the evils of the mafia.
The plot poignantly shows how Peppino, under the oppressive influence of the mafia, becomes increasingly susceptible to adopting another extreme ideology: communism. Desperate for change, he is drawn to the promise of liberation, but this shift reveals the dangers of radical beliefs, as communism, like the mafia, ultimately demands sacrifice and rigidity. The film highlights how oppressive forces can manipulate individuals, pushing them toward extreme ideologies that, while offering a sense of hope, still come with their own destructive consequences. I took particular notice of a portrait of Che Guevara, a notorious murderer and disgusting criminal that hung on a wall of their radio station. This, to me, was one of the most interesting examples of ignorance, as they were fighting against the mafia, who they were rightly describing as murders, while ignoring that communism was equally (if not more) guilty of the same crime.
I also picked up on the religious tones of the movie. The most prominent of which was the constant prayers of the Hail Mary at the different funerals: emphasizing the deep religious ties that the island of Sicily has. There were also many depictions of the crucifix which I found very interesting and almost a sort of foreshadowing as peppino would later be subject to beatings and death, much like Christ.
Lastly,something that is very important, even though his father is portrayed as a mafioso, when peppino is speaking out against the mafia, Luigi is mad but even more so he is scared. This is extremely important as it shows the probable reality for many in the mafia – they were too scared to speak out. They followed orders because they had to or risk punishment.
For Mar 5th: I really liked the idea of this bibliographic movie and how it paid tribute to Peppino, as well as many others, who were assassinated and killed by the mafia at the time. It allowed their sacrifices for the greater good to spread. In the movie, Peppino’s morals and selfless actions really stood out, especially when contrasted with his father’s decisions, making the impact of his death hit harder. The movie had accurately captured the historical events mentioned in the readings, such as how Falcone and Borsellino were murdered at the time for defying the mafia. It enraged the public and sparked great legal action towards the mafia. However, though many of the mafia responsible for the crimes were arrested, the readings describe how the mafia shifts and takes on a “submersion” strategy by maintaining control through corruption and political infiltration. Ultimately, Sicily and Italy still could not fully be freed from the mafia organization. As much as the public and personnel resisted against the mafia, the mafia’s resistance and adaptation towards modern (economic and political) warfare persists.
Some interesting cinema choices in this movie included the tracking shots of Peppino during scenes of movement through his town or during political activism. This created a sense of energy and urgency, emphasizing his restlessness and determination to challenge the mafia. A notable long take occurred when Peppino walked through the town, symbolizing his growing division from both his family and the mafia-controlled society around him. It really evoked a feeling of sympathy and sadness for the main character.
Unlike the glamorous narratives of The Godfather or the stylized violence of classic gangster films, I Cento Passi tells the raw, true story of Peppino Impastato, a young activist who dared to challenge the mafia in Sicily. The film follows Peppino’s transformation from a rebellious teenager in a mafia-connected family to a radical activist using radio and satire as weapons against organized crime. His journey is a blend of personal defiance, political awakening, and tragic resistance, evolving from youthful defiance to a sophisticated critique of the mafia’s grip on his community.
John Dickie’s historical context from his chapter on the mafia in the 1990s and early 2000s illuminates the film’s backdrop. This was a period of intense conflict, marked by brutal mafia bombings in 1992 that killed prominent anti-mafia judges, and a growing public resistance to criminal power. The film captures this tension, showing how individual acts of courage can challenge seemingly invincible systems of oppression. The title itself is a powerful metaphor – “I Cento Passi” (which means “the hundred steps”) refers to the distance between Peppino’s family home and a local mafia boss’s house. It’s a visceral representation of how close criminal power was to everyday life, and how deeply it was woven into the social fabric of Sicily.
What struck me most was the film’s use of humor as resistance. Peppino doesn’t just condemn the mafia—he ridicules it, using radio broadcasts to expose its absurdity and moral bankruptcy. His defiance strips away the myth of mafia nobility, revealing its parasitic nature. More than just a story of one man’s fight, I Cento Passi is a powerful testament to courage, community, and the impact of speaking truth to power.
On one hand, I really respected and resonated with Peppino’s activism. It takes intense passion to stand against one’s childhood teachings to fight for a dangerous cause. The way the movie was shot, the fashion, and the music during Peppino’s younger years felt very nostalgic and almost naive. As if the commentary was telling us “look at these young, foolish, hippie kids fighting against institutions they have no chance against.” Peppino and his friends speak with such gusto that viewers are on the edge of their seats the whole time waiting for the ball to drop.
On the other hand, I just felt bad for his family, even his father. Although his father was part of the corruption that Peppino was advocating against, he seemed sad that their relationship dissolved because of Peppino’s work. Peppino’s mother knew danger was heading his way and frequently pleaded that he pull back. His brother had a breakdown after their father’s death because Peppino made the funeral political as well. While I admired Peppino’s selflessness in fighting for a better Sicily, I also resented how selfish he was in disregarding the toll it took on his loved ones. In a way, his activism felt reckless, like he was on a suicide mission, indifferent to the consequences because he wouldn’t be the one left to deal with them.
The communist activism had a youthful, immature aggressiveness that made it difficult to take them seriously until it was too late. It was during his time on the radio when his words reached far and near, that Peppino gained emboldened power. Even though I want to be frustrated with him for not being more careful, the bittersweet final scene of the film made his struggle worthwhile. This really aligns with the Cosa Nostra chapter in which people rally behind the judges who fought against the suppression of the mafia. The chapter also relates to Peppino’s family as the wives of the men who retaliated not only had to mourn their husbands, but were burdened with continuing their causes to fight against the mafia.
I thought the movie I cento passi was a somewhat powerful portrayal of the anti-Mafia movement in Sicily centered around the life and assassination of a man named Peppino Impastato. The film follows Peppino’s rebellion against his own Mafia-connected family that eventually leads to his murder. What stood out to me the most was how the film framed his fight not just as someone against organized crime but also against the complicity of society.
I thought this film tied well into the reading from chapter 11 of Cosa Nostra, where Dickie describes the Mafia’s shift in strategy during the 1990s and early 2000s. This chapter showed how Cosa Nostra responded to state crackdowns with violent attacks. The reading also discusses the Mafia’s evolving relationship with the state, which felt relevant when considering the film’s portrayal of political and judicial corruption.
I thought this film also built on themes from Salvatore Giuliano. Like Salvatore Giuliano, I cento passi avoids glorifying Mafia figures and instead focuses on those who oppose them, exposing the reality of power and violence in Sicily. Similarly, I remember the movie Il mafioso depicting the Mafia’s reach across different aspects of life, something we see in this movie when Peppino’s father represents the old system that Peppino fights against.
What makes I cento passi stand out, I think, is its depiction of activism against the Mafia. I felt like in The Godfather Mafia power was romanticized, but this movie dismantles that myth by focusing on real-world resistance. This reminded me of how we talked about early American Mafia films shaping racial and mythic stereotypes, while later Italian films challenged these images. The movie makes a strong case for breaking the cycle of silence, showing that fighting the Mafia isn’t just about crime but instead it’s about resisting an entire system of control.
Watching I cento passi, what struck me the most wasn’t just the story, it was Peppino himself. He’s the kind of kid who questions everything, who refuses to just accept things the way they are. He’s sharp, curious, and not afraid to poke fun at the system, even when that system is the Mafia. It’s rare to see a character so young be so sure of his beliefs, especially when everyone around him chooses to stay quiet.
Another thing that stood out was how beautifully the film captures Sicily. The warm, golden landscapes and small-town streets almost make you forget the weight of the story. There’s something surreal about watching Peppino walk through these stunning places while taking on something so dark and dangerous. The contrast between the beauty of his world and the corruption he’s fighting makes his story feel even heavier.
What I kept thinking about is how close everything is. The title, I cento passi (The Hundred Steps), literally refers to how close Peppino’s house was to the Mafia boss’s. That’s what makes his fight feel so personal. He wasn’t taking on some distant enemy, but it was right there, woven into his everyday life.
The film left me thinking about what it means to speak up when no one else will. Peppino wasn’t just rebellious, he was relentless. And even though his story is specific to 1900s Sicily, the feeling of being surrounded by something wrong and wanting to change it? That feels universal.
Marco Tullio Giordana’s I cento passi (2000) follows the life and assassination of Peppino Impastato, an activist and journalist who openly opposed the Sicilian Mafia. Peppino and Tano Badalamenti, the Mafia boss, have a close yet deeply antagonistic relationship, ultimately resulting in Peppino’s death. Although Peppino comes from a Mafia-affiliated family, he rejects his legacy and publicly positions himself as a challenger to Mafia power. Peppino utilizes his broadcast platform on Radio Aut to critique Mafia corruption, exposing the illicit workings of the organization. Additionally, he mocks Badalamenti, questioning his aura as an untouchable Mafia power. This public ridicule undermines the fear and respect that drive Mafia operations.
John Dickie’s “Bombs and Submersion 1992–2003” from Cosa Nostra: A History of the Sicilian Mafia discusses the consequences of resisting and challenging Mafia power, as illustrated in the film. The reading discusses Giovanni Falcone and Paolo Borsellino as leading the largest judicial attack against the Mafia, the Maxi Trial. They proved that the Mafia operated as a criminal organization, not just a collection of associated individuals. Just as in the film, in 1992, the Mafia struck back, unwilling to be publicly undermined, and Falcone and Borsellino were both killed in bombings. Their assassinations, like Peppino’s, highlight the dangers of confronting Cosa Nostra and the lengths to which the Mafia will go to maintain its power. However, both the film and the reading emphasize how their deaths galvanized public opposition, leading to stronger anti-Mafia efforts.
How does Marco Tullio Giordana use framing to emphasize the power dynamics between Peppino and Badalamenti, particularly as Peppino challenges Mafia authority? How do these visual choices compare to traditional depictions of Mafia bosses in film where camera angle and framing is used to dramatize the Mafia’s power?
As a young child, Peppino is thrust into the realities of life in the Mafia. Because of the car bomb placed on his uncle, who happened to be a Mafia boss, Peppino lost his innocence at such a young age. After bumpy relationships with people he seemed to be close with, he became a member of the opposite party and was actively protesting against the Mafia. Peppino brought to light the Mafia’s corruption and brutality and the urgent need to put a stop to it. Unfortunately, the Mafia killed Peppino and staged it to make it seem as though it was a terrorist attack, which further showcases the Mafia’s constant strategy of deception. Both of these works just highlight how the Mafia used terror to maintain power and fear in the heart of others. All in all, these works represent an early example of the Mafia’s response to opposition, one that escalated to large scale terrorism, showcased in both Cento Passi and Bombs and Submersion with the bombings.
I Centi Passi was interesting in the way that it portrayed the mafia not as a mythical empire of power and wealth, but as a pervasive and oppressive force embedded into daily life. It doesn’t just focus on the violence but shows how deeply fear and complicity shaped the community. That’s what makes it feel so real to me.
Thinking about it in relation to Bombs and Submission adds another layer to the impact. The period marked a shift in how the mafia operated. After years of brutality and high-profile assassinations, they needed to adapt. The bombings of the early 90’s, meant to intimidate the state into submission, ultimately had the opposite effect. The government cracked down, pursued thousands of arrests, and dismantled much of the mafia’s traditional power structure. However, instead, the mafia just embedded itself into politics and business in a more subtle way. Its influence could persist without the need for open violence.
This is what makes I Centi Passi powerful. Peppino stood against the mafia at a time when it was seemingly invincible and even though his story ended badly, his defiance was notable. Ultimately, I came out of watching the movie and reading Cosa Nostra thinking: has something changed with the mafia, or have they just moved in different ways?
I Cento Passi and the transformation of Toto Riina’s villa into a public institution both symbolize rebellion against the mafia’s grip on Sicily. The film follows Peppino Impastato, who openly defies Cosa Nostra despite his family’s ties and in the end loses his life. His defiance contrasts sharply with Toto Riina’s misguided confidence that his power would endure, as seen in his luxurious yet confiscated Corleone villa, which the state repurposed to benefit the public.
Both narratives highlight the mafia’s exploitation of communities by controlling resources, politics, and culture while showing how resistance emerges. Impastato’s radio broadcasts expose corruption, just as Judge Falcone’s and Borsellino’s legal efforts dismantle Cosa Nostra’s influence. The mafia retaliates with violence, but its power is undermined by public outrage, the rise of pentiti, and state reforms.
Despite setbacks, these acts of defiance fracture the mafia’s mythology. The transformation of Riina’s villa into a school and the public protests following the murders of Falcone and Borsellino illustrate how rebellion, whether individual (like Impastato) or collective (like post-1992 anti-mafia movements), can erode organized crime’s authority. Both the film and real-life events show that resistance was essential in challenging the mafia’s control of power. I wonder if the deterioration of the mafia’s grip on power through individuals who failed to comply and rebelled has parallels with the fall of governing authoritarian regimes throughout the course of history.
I cento passi beautifully portrays the social struggle between the mafia and the people of Sicily and Italy through the story of Peppino Impastato. While other mafia movies use real events to add to the glory of the mafia and further mythify their perception, I cento passi uses reality to portray the brutality and tragedy of living under the mafia. Like many other mafia movies, the protagonist is introduced as a child. However, in this case, the protagonist is anti-mafia. Now, the same empathy is built around Peppino. Not everyone can agree or empathize with the communist cause, but, by showing the impetus of Peppino’s ideology, the viewer understands the situation which drives Peppino to his actions. Furthermore, the quality of the footage gives the film a feeling of being produced at the time of Peppino’s life in the seventies rather than being released in 2000. While not documentary in nature, the film emphasizes the reality of the scenes it portrays.
I found this film to capture, what I assume to be, the true emotional weight of living with the mafia. Life is not more exciting and wild because of the mafia. Instead, the mafia creates rifts in communities, families. The people being affected by the mafia’s actions are not background characters. They are people with full lives with dreams and desires. The death of Peppino, which coincided with the death of Aldo Moro, feels like the start to the years described in the chapter in Dickie. A shifting consciousness in society to one of a hope for change rather than feeling trapped in the current status quo. The march for Peppino at the end of the movie is a statement that the mafia must be dealt with, even if the fight would take decades to come.
I Centi Passi felt very different from the other films we’ve watched for this course. On one hand, this was a film about the mafia: the power structure of the organization is overt, the extrajudicial actions (such as bailing Peppino out of prison) are displayed, and the violence of an assassination is carried out without regard for the law. While this is all true, there were moments when I felt as if I were watching a movie about a son rebelling against his father, who wanted him to take over the family business.
This made something clear to me. While the mafioso was introduced into popular media as a gross retaliation against unification by the South and morphed into an image of vigilante creed, the mafioso is also just a business with people at the top and bottom and leaders who seek to maintain and consolidate more power and wealth. From this perspective, Peppino’s actions and the film’s premise retaliated against the American dream. Ultimately, it’s a film about the growth and maintenance of power and the next generation of mafioso leaders asking whether they want or need all that power anymore. At the film’s start, in a toast to the wedded couple, the family laments their previous poverty and toasts to never being poor again. The family elders fought their way to the top in a new country. Their children, however, grew up in a world of excess and wealth.
Once the first-generation immigrants reach the top, what does the American Dream look like for second-generation immigrants who didn’t experience poverty and hardship? Do they still crave the same dream?
Both the movie and the article talk about retaliation against those who spoke out against the Mafia. The article, for example, talks about the murder of Don Pino Puglisi for having and sharing an anti-mafia stance. The movie obviously showed the murder of Peppino, who was very outspoken about his anti-mafia stance in his radio. Something I thought was interesting in the movie was when Peppino is talking about the nature around him and its beauty and how it’s misleading because up close you know that there’s houses with tvs and other things. He then says “Nobody remembers what it looked like before. It takes so very little to destroy beauty.” To me, this seemed to resemble what the Mafia has done to Sicily. Nobody remembers a time before the mafia. It is very normalized, which is why at the end of the movie after Peppino was murdered, Peppino’s friend says “Why don’t we Sicilians admit it once and for all. We want the mafia. It makes us feel safe.” This shows how the structure of the society is not only reliant on the mafia and complicit with its activities, it is also welcoming of it. The friend continues with “We identify with it, we like it.” As for the other part of the original statement by Peppino that it takes very little to destroy beauty, I think this is reminiscent of the fact that Siciliy was beautiful and didn’t have a looming reputation above their heads. The mafia started off small and slowly but surely grew its roots deep within society thereby destroying its beauty. I think the whole movie had the effect of putting a mirror up to Sicilians and showing them how much the mafia has changed their lives despite them not knowing it because, as I stated previously, nobody remembers what Siciliy was before the Mafia.
The genuine story of Peppino Impastato, a vocal anti-Mafia activist who is killed for his opposition, is told in Marco Tullio Giordana’s 2000 book I Cento Passi. This film focuses on opposition, highlighting the personal cost of speaking out, in contrast to usual Mafia films that emphasize internal power struggles. The title “One Hundred Steps” depicts the ideological and physical separation between Peppino and Tano Badalamenti, the Mafia boss who lived a short distance from his family’s home.
This change in Mafia representations is contextualized in John Dickie’s chapter “Bombs and Submersion 1992–2003” from Cosa Nostra. Following the assassinations of judges Falcone and Borsellino in the 1990s, the government intensified its crackdowns, which prompted the Mafia to strike with bombings before withdrawing into a more covert, less obvious form of control. By showing Peppino’s defiance and the Mafia’s violent reaction, the movie reflects this history.
The movie also uses ideology to show opposition. Peppino’s activity is closely linked to communist principles, presenting his uprising as a component of a larger political movement rather than merely a single act of resistance. He further illustrates how public discourse may be used as a weapon against tyranny through his use of media, especially Radio Aut. By portraying the Mafia as a repressive power rather than a noble legacy, I Cento Passi departs from idealized portrayals of the organization. The film’s focus on Peppino’s activity and selflessness is in line with the actual change in public opinion Dickie talks about, signaling a clear turn toward anti-Mafia cinema.
Despite being made in 2000, I Cento Passi adopts a documentary-like style that immerses us in Peppino Impastato’s life. Early in the film, the static camera mirrors his initial position within his community. However, as Peppino’s activism intensifies, the cinematography shifts, using pans, tilts, and push-ins to emphasize his growing defiance and the emotional weight of his fight against the Mafia.
This stylistic evolution parallels the historical reality of Mafia repression. As Dickie details in the reading, the Mafia survives not just through violence but through strategic adaptation. In the 1990s, it transitioned from high-profile assassinations to subtler forms of control, submerging itself when necessary. Similarly, I Cento Passi portrays Peppino’s gradual isolation before his ultimate silencing, reflecting the Mafia’s method of eliminating threats while maintaining its grip on the community.
The film also exposes the hypocrisy of the Mafia’s claim to protect its own. Many mafia films frame the organization as the underdog against the government. Here, however, the “little guys” who should stand with Peppino instead abandon him. As Dickie notes, the Mafia’s power lies in its ability to manipulate allegiances, ensuring that even dissenters like Peppino are seen as threats rather than allies.
By integrating historical context, I Cento Passi becomes more than just a biopic. It illustrates how the Mafia systematically erases those who challenge it, reinforcing that Peppino’s story is not just personal but emblematic of a broader, entrenched system of suppression.
I found I Cento Passi incredibly interesting for a number of reasons. To start, I think there are a lot of stylistic differences than previous movies we have watched, and the lighting, character energy, and plot seem entirely different than that of the Italian-American mafia movies which often incorporate darker lighting and more violent scenes throughout the course of the movie rather than intentionally weaving violence in as this movie did. In my opinion, using violence less often almost speaks to the significance of it in this movie whereas I feel as if I had started becoming a bit desensitized to the violence in Italian-American mafia movies (especially Scorsese’s movies which seem like murders happen in every other scene). Another thing I appreciated about this movie is the evolution of Peppino over time. It is interesting watching Peppino’s anti-mafia activism, despite what it has done to his family. One specific scene which I found compelling was when Peppino’s father throws him to the ground and tells him to “honor thy father.” The father then goes into an elaboration about how Peppino learned to respect his father as a young boy in church, signifying the reinforced themes in mafia movies to honor one’s family and devotion to religion. I find this scene interesting, especially in correlation with the Cosa Nostra reading in which Rosaria has an interesting reaction to mafia members after Vito’s murder. In the text, she states, “Men of the mafia, I will forgive you, but you will have to get down on your knees.” She also notes that they should “become Christian again” signifying that being part of the mafia and being devoutly religious cannot happen concurrently. Alternatively, the scene in the movie tries to take an alternative stance when the father uses religion as a motive for Peppino to stop talking poorly about the mafia on the radio. Thus, I find it quite interesting seeing how religion can be used to both justify mafia actions and disapprove of mafia actions depending on the situation.
After watching I Cento Passi and reading Cosa Nostra, I noticed how both tended to explore the Sicilian mafia’s power and the resistance against it. I Cento Passi tells the story of Peppino Impastato, who was a Sicilian journalist and an activist who outwardly opposed the Mafia. Ironically enough, he was born into a family that had ties with the Mafia. Through his broadcasts and political activism, Peppino brought attention to the corruption and violence of local bosses, which would later end up costing him his life as he was murdered in a staged suicide. While I Cento Passi addresses the dangers of challenging the Mafia and authorities like it, highlighting the culture of silence that allowed that authority to thrive, on the other hand, Cosa Nostra examines the Mafia’s response to state crackdowns in the early 1990s, starting with the assassinations of judges Giovanni Falcone and Paola Borsellino, which led to a mass of arrests and trials. The Mafia ended up abandoning its campaign of open violence and ultimately adopted a shadow-like strategy due to the intense pressure they were faced with. The Mafia organization focused on secrecy, political infiltration, and economic influence instead of its former reliance on direct confrontation. While both works highlight the struggle against the Mafia’s control, they both work together in revealing the deep ties of organized crime in Sicilian society and the long war of attrition against it.
I first began wondering about the reaction of mafia men to the development of this culture of gang movies a few weeks ago after watching Mafioso, and the question is even more relevant now with I Cento Passi. This film is certainly very different from all of the others that we have studied up to this point with its emphasis on the cultural interactions between the Mafia and the Italian and Sicilian people. As Dickie says, the “situation in Sicily was [becoming] a national emergency” (317). The timing of I Cento Passi’s release in 2000 also seems to coincide with a sort of cultural revolt against the influence of the mafia and their growing lack of concern for subtlety and discretion. High-profile murders on the part of the Cosa Nostra and an increasingly powerful anti-Mafia police force all played a role in this change that we have not seen up until this point in their history.
I especially appreciated the great amount of symbolism that Giordana embedded in the film. Beginning with the proximity of the Impastato and Cosa Nostra houses, reinforcing the idea of the Mafia’s fundamental integration with society up until this point. Additionally, I found Peppino’s radio show to be a bit ironic – with all the power that the mafia had amassed, they were being threatened at their core by a young guy with a radio show. At the same time, it does highlight the impact that just one young activist like Peppino can have, especially at a time when few felt compelled to speak out against corruption.
I still have questions about the actual reaction of the mafia to an impactful and ‘direct’ movie like I Cento Passi. Did this movie stir up unrest within the ranks of the Cosa Nostra, or did it unite them behind a drive for further control and power?
After watching Giordana’s film and reading the chapter from Dickie, I thought it was very interesting how these two offered different perspectives on the influence of the Mafia on Sicilian society. Giordana’s film clearly tried to do this by focusing in on the defiance of Peppino. In the film, he is trying to expose the corruption of the Mafia at home. On the other hand, the reading also considers resistance to the mafia by detailing its response to threats to its system. The reading also explores more specific ways in which the mafia resorted to extreme measures to counter state intervention. Overall, I think these two sources share a key difference in how this resistance is represented and how the mafia responds to it. In one case, the film seems more rebellious and individualized, while the reading touches again on a theme we have seen for a while which is the institutional power of the Mafia.
Additionally, I thought that Giordana’s film for this class was super interesting and a bit different than what we have explored so far. Even though it was produced more recently, it clearly has different attitudes towards the mafia and introduces the rise of the “anti-mafia movie” like the topic online also makes clear. I thought that both sources for this class were complementary, as well, in their perspectives on the Mafia, and they taught us more about the complexities of the Mafia system.
*Il Cento Passi* stands in stark contrast to *Goodfellas* and *Casino* because it actively works against the glamorization of the mafia that so many other films indulge in. While Scorsese’s films show the allure of wealth, power, and excess before eventually revealing their consequences, *Il Cento Passi* strips away any romanticism from the start. It doesn’t invite the audience to revel in the mafia lifestyle—it condemns it outright.
What I find most striking is how different its protagonist, Peppino Impastato, is from Henry Hill or Ace Rothstein. Henry and Ace are insiders who benefit from the system until it turns on them, but Peppino is an outsider from birth, rejecting the mafia’s control over his hometown. Instead of showing the mafia from the perspective of those who profit from it, *Il Cento Passi* exposes its stranglehold on ordinary people, making it a far more political film than Scorsese’s work.
Another key difference is how these films treat power. *Goodfellas* and *Casino* show the mafia’s internal logic—rules, hierarchies, and the eventual downfall of those who try to bend them. *Il Cento Passi* dismantles this logic completely. The mafia isn’t a thrilling, rebellious force here; it’s oppressive, corrupt, and deeply intertwined with the state. There’s no rise and fall—just a crushing inevitability.
It’s also interesting how *Il Cento Passi* uses realism differently. While *Goodfellas* and *Casino* use direct narration and kinetic energy to immerse us in their worlds, *Il Cento Passi* feels more restrained, more like *Salvatore Giuliano*, focusing on history and political reality rather than spectacle. Instead of seducing the audience with the mafia’s appeal, it asks them to confront its brutality head-on.
John Dickie’s Bombs and Submersion (1992–2003) details a time when the Cosa Nostra’s excessive violence led to massive state and public backlash. The 1992 assassinations of judges who opposed the mafia Giovanni Falcone and Paolo Borsellino sparked national unrest, leading to numerous protests in Palermo and government crackdowns on organized crime. The Italian state responded increased law enforcement efforts and the expansion of witness protection programs. The mafia shifted strategies in response to these new efforts, moving away from high-profile acts of violence to a less public presence in both business and politics. Marco Tullio Giordana’s I cento passi (2000) tells the story of Peppino Impastato, a political activist who openly opposed the mafia. Despite growing up in a crime family, he used his radio show to expose Cosa Nostra’s corruption. This unfortunately led to his assassination. The film shows how more people were willing to fight against the mafia despite the risks by the late 20th century. Both the film and Dickie’s chapter show how the mafia could no longer rely on violence for power. The killings of Falcone and Borsellino mobilized public opposition in a way they never could’ve imagined as the state increased their efforts to destroy the Cosa Nostra. I cento passi illustrates how people like Peppino played a role in this shift in public sentiment towards the Cosa Nostra, showing that opposition to the mafia was becoming more widespread. While the Cosa Nostra survived by changing its methods, the scope of their power on the island of Sicily did take a massive hit.
Once again, this week Dickie is giving us a lot of historical context to the film that we watched. Giordana’s film places a large focus on the anti-mafia perspective and the dangers that come with resisting the mafia. The audience sees how the mafia has substantial control and influence on every day life in Italy, and the pressures that come with that for civilians. This substantial control shows us why resisting the power of the mafia would be a very difficult thing to do while staying alive in the process.
Dickie’s focus in the text is more on the version of the mafia that ruined their reputation publicly though the car bombings. This mafia is more underground and less public in their influence, however their underground control was still substantial and opposing them was still a deadly action. This idea of the mafia having a reach on entire communities is mirrored in the film and the text in two different ways, but that theme is strong throughout both.
Lastly, I think it’s important that Peppino is our protagonist perspective for this film because of his familial relationship to the mafia. I think it brings more realism to the film having the resistance come from a part of the family, because of the deep understanding that Peppino has of the organization. If the film was focused on a random person who had a rise to societal influence and somehow evaded the mafia’s violence it would feel a lot less personal to the audience. Thus, choosing the character of Peppino was a fantastic choice for the sake of realism, and to challenge the traditional theme of family in the mafia and take it a completely different direction.
One of the most interesting aspects of Donnie Brasco is how it plays with the idea of morality in a way that isn’t black and white. On the surface, it seems clear: Donnie is the “good guy” because he’s an undercover FBI agent taking down criminals, and Lefty is the “bad guy” because he’s a mobster. But as the film unfolds, it becomes harder to make that distinction. Lefty, despite being a killer, has a strong sense of loyalty, mentorship, and even vulnerability, while Donnie, the supposed hero, becomes more morally compromised as he gets deeper into the Mafia world. He starts lying to his wife, becoming violent, and ultimately betraying a man who genuinely cared for him.
It raises the question: does doing the “right” thing justify betraying someone who trusts you? And if Donnie loses himself in the process, is he still the hero? The film doesn’t give an easy answer, which is what makes it so compelling—it challenges the idea that morality is simple and instead shows how it’s shaped by circumstances, relationships, and personal codes of honor.
Right from the opening credits scene you know that this will be a different type of mafia movie. It’s starts out with very melodramatic music and quick cuts between characters with some of those cuts being extreme close-ups of Donnie Brasco looking very pensive, sad even. This is very different than Scorsese’s opening to Goodfellas and Casino where we see an act of mob violence from later in the movie. You get the feeling here that the movie will give more focus to the human interactions/consequences side of the mob. And that is what we end up seeing.
There are two major human interplays going on here. First, there is the interplay as Lefty becomes a mentor to Donnie and explains the ins and outs of mob culture and behavior. I think Lefty sees in Donnie the son he wished he had versus the junkie son he does have – someone he can nurture and love. For Donnie there could be a bit of the Stockholm Syndrome happening as he starts to identify more with his mafia colleagues than his FBI colleagues. When his wife tells him that he’s becoming like them, he replies that he is one of them. Donnie feels so much for Lefty, that he does two touching things. First, when Lefty’s kid is in the hospital due to an overdose, Donnie goes and visits the hospital and stays there even after Lefty tell him to leave after their relationship fractured in Florida. Second, he was going to give Lefty a bag containing $300k that Donnie hid from Sonny after the Florida raid, so Lefty could live his dream of exiting the life, getting on a boat with Annette, and sailing off never to be heard of again. In effect, allowing Lefty to avoid prosecution and jail by the FBI or possible death for bringing in an FBI agent into the family.
This leads to the second major human interplay. This is about someone’s relationship to their job. In this area, the movie could be about any type of job and an employee’s relationship to the organization and how that organization recognizes and rewards its employees. Donnie appreciates Lefty’s mentorship because it seems that he is getting more encouragement and care from Lefty than from his FBI bosses. It’s only the low-level FBI tech geeks (including a young Paul Giamatti) that tell him he’s doing a great job. When they show the scene of Pistone getting a medal, it’s a closed ceremony with no press, just his family in attendance with the senior FBI officials muddling through the presentation in a purely perfunctory way. The requirements of the job are also putting a huge stress on Donnie’s family life. It’s not discussed much in the movie but Pistone’s assignment was supposed to be relatively short but he did it so well and kept getting more and more ingrained into the family, that he and the FBI kept it going.
Another part of this same employee-organization relationship deals with Lefty. Lefty seems to be fairly mediocre as an earner – he’s always short of cash and borrowing from Donnie, he barely makes enough to cover the vig on the gambling debt he owes Sonny Red and was disrespected by Sonny Red who asks him if he’s going to make this week’s vig in front of the other made men and associates waiting outside the lounge in an early scene. What Lefty is good at is being a hitman and being loyal – he repeatedly recounts his 26 kills and how he took care of Sonny Black’s family when he was in the pen.
When Sonny Black gets moved up to be a Capo, Lefty resents it and questions why he wasn’t moved up. This is a fairly general type employee dissatisfaction over not being promoted. But he feels his loyalty and skill aren’t being appreciated by the organization. Then Lefty sees a breakthrough for himself with the deal down in Florida. This is a new idea, an organizational innovation where he can better show his earning power and enhance his standing within the organization. But it’s stolen from him by Sonny Black, no different than any boss stealing a great idea from an underling. I actually felt sad for Lefty when he meets Trafficante and Trafficante asks where Sonny Black is. The dejection on Lefty’s face, the shattering of his dream, was an emotional moment. Even though he’s a mob guy and a killer, we can empathize with his disappointment. Lefty pushing Donnie away on the boat as he thinks that Donnie betrayed him to Sonny and his sitting in solitude is a touching moment.
So, a mob movie, yes; but also, a human drama about relationships between people and the organizations they serve.
Donnie Brasco is an interesting film in contrast with many of the others that we have watched. Unlike many which focus on either an individual or group in the mafia or in the police force, Donnie Brasco has a double agent as well as a more blurred line between good and bad. The film doesn’t necessarily portray the mafia in such a negative light so much as it reinforces the dangers of being a double agent. Donnie, despite going undercover to expose the mafia, demonstrates loyalty to Lefty, even beyond his loyalty to his family. Lefty as well demonstrates loyalty both to the mafia–despite never moving up in the ranks–and to Donnie. In focusing on the relationship between Donnie and Lefty, the movie neither glorifies and glamorizes the mafia nor directly villainizes it. Instead it shows the influence that Donnie’s undercover life has on his character. Despite his extreme commitment to being undercover, seemingly to do the “right” thing, his morals become more and more compromised. In an attempt to protect his cover, Donnie lets the other mafiosi beat up the man at the restaurant to keep his shoes on and then destroys the tape–the beginning of the blurring between good and bad. He also becomes more and more distant from his family and even hits his wife, demonstrating his undercover persona being taken too far. Throughout the film it seems to get more and more ambiguous as to where Donnie’s loyalty lies. At the end, when he stopped reporting back to the police, it felt unclear for the audience and maybe even for Donnie on who he was going to side with. Ultimately, all of his undercover work was extremely successful in taking down many mafiosi but Donnie did not seem to come back out, leaving it vague on if he is meant to be a hero and demonstrating the commitment and complexity of being undercover.
Donnie Brasco shares the true story of Joseph D. Pistone who goes undercover as an FBI agent who infiltrates the Mafia under the alias of “Donnie Brasco.” The film explores his relationship with Lefty Ruggiero, who is a low-level but deeply loyal mobster. Lefty takes Donnie under his wing and teaches him the ways of the Mafia while also treating him somewhat like a son. However, as Donnie gets deeper and learns more about the criminal underworld, he begins to struggle with his dual loyalties, both to the FBI and to Lefty, who genuinely trusts him. The film explores deeper themes and the conflicts between duty and loyalty, as Donnie has to betray the very people he’s grown close to for the mission. Yacowar’s article also discusses the conflicts that arises when one has to choose between loyalty and duty. Yacowar argues that Donnie Brasco (the film) presents a take on this conflict by framing it within male bonding and the codes of honor in the Mafia. Both Lefty’s loyalty to the Mafia and Donnie’s duty to the law and the FBI make them somewhat mirror each other in some aspects, but at the same time it also places them on opposite sides and at war with each other, yet both parties don’t know that, which eventually lead to Lefty’s death. I really liked the part in Yash Dutt’s blog post that says how although Lefty works in the Mafia, he seems to be a kindred spirit who is loyal and a mentor, while Donnie, who is supposed to be this hero and good guy, begins to get morally corrupt and more evil as the movie goes on despite being and working on the side that society deems to be more respectable. Overall, both the article and the movie bring up very important discussions on the tensions between love and honor and how they can intertwine.
The movie Donnie Brasco by Mike Newell depicted the mafia differently than some of the films we have watched. This film is based on a true story which is an interesting detail on the boldness of depicting the mafia at this level. The reading touched on this as well, but Hollywood seems to feel more secure in making movies about the mafia with realism as centric as possible. Joe as a character created much controversy throughout the film, also speaking to the boldness of the film. His character was brought under the wing of a mafioso named Lefty – who spent the majority of the movie explaining his loyalty to the mafia and the little recognition he received for his commitment. More broadly, throughout the film we see the struggle between love and death for Joe, as the reading also explained. However when watching the film I couldn’t help but think about how the battle between love and death was individually Joe’s emotions towards Lefty. The film shows Joe’s family, however similar to Joe’s life as Donnie, they were a small part. Lefty, on the other hand, stands to be killed because of Joe’s actions therefore Joe is more emotionally invested. The last thing I noticed was how much Joe almost wanted the life of the mafia. At first he was very willing to help others, aka the FBI, and stay in contact with his wife and kids but throughout the film you saw his character commit to his role in the mafia and desire to keep it over his real life. This metaphor was shown also through the first and last shots of the film being his eyes and the loss of innocence within them.
I think one of the most interesting aspects of the “Donnie Brasco” film is how it seems to marry a lot of “historical” elements of the traditional mafia or gangster film with the more prominent anti-mafia stance of the movie (at least as compared to earlier mafia films of similar style). The most obvious example to me goes back to the earlier days of the gangster and censorship battles surrounding the morality of the films and the portrayal of mafiosi versus police. The film takes a “safe road” in that it centers around an FBI agent and pushes the audience to sympathize with this character, but, simultaneously, it critiques the FBI as an institution showing its pitfalls in misunderstanding the mafia system, prioritizing its operations over individuals, and ultimately pitting the FBI against the main character that the audience forms a connection with. This seems to echo early struggles with censorship throughout production of the 1920s’ and 1930s’ mafia movies in which the mafioso/gangster was never meant to be idolized or shadowed by the audience and the police or opposing force were never meant to be shown in a bad light. “Donnie Brasco” certainly does an interesting job of walking this line. We see this brought up in the selected reading for today’s class in the consideration of the potential threat of immoral heroes and how audiences identify most with the character they watch most. If we sympathize with Donnie/Joe, but we see him brought under moral scrutiny by his wife, the FBI, and other non-mafiosi figures in the film, how does this make us reevaluate our moral interpretations of these other people and entities?
I thought that “Donnie Brasco” provided a particularly interesting perspective of the mafia because it showed how the ‘family’ aspect and code of morality could appeal to outsiders. Unlike other mafia movies, Donnie/Joe doesn’t join the mafia in pursuit of glory, wealth, or safety. He doesn’t have a criminal streak and isn’t escaping a tumultuous household. So, uniquely, it is the bonds and loyalty of the mafia that draw Donnie in, putting his marriage and family out of mind. This adds to the neglect of romantic love in favor of duty that Yacowar points out, in which Donnie puts aside his wife and family first for his duty to the FBI, and then to Lefty and the mafia.
The relationship between Lefty and Donnie was very intriguing because it was much more emotional (and borderline romantic) than the typical macho persona that mafia characters have. It was an intriguing contrast to have these excessively violent, hypermasculine men have such a soft relationship. This relationship complicates the morality of the FBI and the law, and blurs Donnie and Lefty’s roles as the good and bad guys, respectively. Because Donnie cannot carry out his duty as an FBI agent without betraying his best friend, and cannot carry out his duty as a (faux) mafia member and Lefty’s friend without betraying the law and his family, the true struggle of the movie is internal. This contrasts the typical structure of the mafia movie, in which the struggle is between the mafioso and some external power. It also allows the movie to consider the morality of the US government along with the morality of the mafia.
Donnie Brasco felt like a more realistic take on mafia relations than Good Fellas and other previous movies. What struck me about the previous mafia films was the lack of character development regarding the relationship between characters. In Il Mafioso, for example, we don’t learn much about the relationship between Marta and Nino or between Nino and his kids; the plot is centered around his mafia career. Similarly, in Good Fellas, the relationship between Henry and the other mafioso men, such as Tommy or Paul, is never fully developed. These relationships aren’t the focal point of Good Fellas; the mafia is. In the Public Enemy, Tom’s relationships are almost comically thin. At the film’s start, the extent of his drive to join the mafioso is the focal point, not his relationship with his hometown or the friends he left behind. This all comes second to the mafia.
Donnie Brasco was a welcome reprieve from this. While it was no less violent than previous mafia films, Donnie Brasco was unique because it deeply evaluated a relationship between a mafioso man and an (although in disguise) outsider. This felt more realistic than the violent caricature of Good Fellas. Brasco and Lefty develop an increasingly intimate and complex relationship.
At the beginning of Donnie Brasco, it seemed like the film might have been a comedy or parody of the mafia rules and customs. I think this is the first movie we’ve seen that so blatantly verbalized all of these mafia unspoken rules. In other films we’ve seen, these customs are signaled in a more discrete way and seem to stay fairly unspoken (these customs are shown rather than explicitly told to the viewer). However, in Donnie Brasco, we see how Lefty explicitly stated the rules while teaching Joe the ropes of being a wise guy. By doing this, the film becomes (like others we’ve seen) a film about that mafia that isn’t really about the mafia. Rather, the story of Donnie Brasco was a context through which Newell could tell a story about love and honor, as discussed in the reading.
While watching the film, I felt that Donnie and Lefty were developing a genuine father-son-like relationship centered around Lefty showing Donnie the ropes and how to be successful in this world. I was confused to read Yacowar’s interpretation of their relationship as romantic in some way. Unless I missed something (or a lot of things), I viewed the love of their father-son relationship as something that contrasted honor in various ways. Honor is betrayed by Donnie (Joe), who becomes so immersed in his bond with Lefty and his new mafia way of life that he sort of falls short in fulfilling his role as an investigative FBI agent. This contrast of love and honor is central to the film and reflected by Donnie’s internal conflict about ratting on someone who he has developed such a close relationship with. Donnie, and the viewer, might question in these circumstances what the most “honorable” choice of action would have been. We see that Donnie’s relationships with other investigators or people in the FBI felt very transactional, which contrasted that of Lefty and Donnie’s relationship. For instance, this is exaggerated during the rushed ceremony, honoring Donnie for his service in the FBI by throwing a medal at him and taking a picture. I think the film does this to depict a sort of lack of genuine honor, or a form of honor that has disappeared outside of certain organizations like the mafia.
I really enjoyed seeing the parallels between this movie and others we have seen so far as I feel I am enjoying the movie through a different lens. To start the movie we have a montage in a police-esque way as if someone were doing a stakeout– foreshadowing to the later plot twist in the movie. This seemed very similar to Casino, where it starts with flashing lights reminiscent of a casino. Later, the dialogue between Lefty and Don flows extremely well and we effortlessly learn about the “chain of command” and the hierarchical mafia structure as well as the importance of the “friend of mine/ours” distinction. Then we have the plot twist that Don is an undercover agent with the FBI and the recurring motif of the typewriter giving us narrative updates much like in de Palma’s Untouchables. (It is parallels like these that I feel I am now able to see unlike before). Another very important scene is where Lefty is in the front seat and constantly checking the rear-view mirror even though he’s with people he’s known for 20 years. We later find out that his uneasiness is valid when Sonny Red betrays all of them in Miami and when Lefty shoots and kills his friend that Sonny Black called a rat. We see that the mafia are not only wise-guys but that they are mindless killing machines. We see the parallel between them and our protagonist after the slaughter of Sonny Red’s guys when Sonny Black and co are dancing and celebrating while Joe goes back to destroy his entire apartment in pent up rage. The last point of the movie that I wanted to talk about was when Paulie sits behind Don in the car where Paulie is out of focus and both the viewer and Don are on the edge of our seats as we don’t know if the mafiosi have discovered Donnie’s secret. Which we later find out that Lefty did in fact know (at least about the boat) but kept it secret.
I think this movie also is very good at being a criticism of both the mafia and the FBI; the mafia for being untrustworthy murders and the FBI for being too bureaucratic and not helpful to their own. The movie also expertly shows us that even though we may begin to be sympathetic towards someone like Lefty and we don’t want him to die, he has still carried out 26 hits and does indeed have blood on his hands. He may be funny and likable, but he’s a monster. Meanwhile our protagonist who we should root for and love treats his wife and family completely as an afterthought compared to his job. A priority that almost strips him of his life ( his wife of a husband and his kids of a father) and rewards him with 500 dollars. We are shown that being too righteous and dutiful does not pay due to the inherent flaws in our system.
The corruption of moral code and the struggle between honor and love is particularly interesting in Donnie Brasco and reminds me of a similar struggle in The Untouchables. Donnie Brasco follows an FBI agent, Joseph Pistone, who goes undercover as a jewel thief in the Bonnano crime family in New York. In the process, he befriends Lefty Ruggiero, an aging hitman stuck at the bottom of the mafia hierarchy, who serves as a paternal figure to him. As the operation progresses, Joseph Pistone/Donny Brasco is forced to betray Lefty. However, this comes with much emotional turmoil,l and while he is celebrated for his work, his actions led to the (suggested) death of his mentor and friend. Donnie is forced to prove himself by beating a man to death in Florida and encounters the ridiculousness of the mafia world, even facing a lion. The film, while showing a powerful, strange world, holds a gritty message of betrayal and emotional hardship at its core. Joseph, in his righteous quest, betrays his internal loyalty and morality. Was it worth it? Similarly, in Sling Blade, as pointed out by Maurice Yacowar, there is a story about redemption and finding peace in a new life while protecting it against all those who threaten it. I am reminded of a quote I heard growing up: “You can either be dead right or dead right.” Sometimes, there is the right, honest thing to do; other times, you must listen to yourself and your morality. Joseph is faced with a similar dilemma–the betrayal of his paternal figure in his lawful quest.
American Gangster struck me because it focused on how organized crime can be innovated upon to become even more successful. Frank Lucas changes the game by becoming his own boss that works on by himself. Gone are the ways of the mafia families with their complex rules and tradition. Lucas boils down his business in two simple steps: better quality goods for a lower price. In his eyes, Lucas is running a business like any other businessman. While he uses a disguise at the beginning when he is selling, he wears expensive suits and lives in fancy apartments for the rest of his time. There is a disassociation between Lucas and the nature of his business, but the audience is constantly reminded of the harm the drugs do with cuts to people overdosing across the city. Even when Lucas directly comes into contact with the product, for example his trips to Thailand, his behavior is that of any other business deal. The product could have been anything. It just happens to be heroin. This portrayal of Lucas returns to the glorification of organized crime in the past. Lucas brings his family to live in a large house. He provides free turkeys to people on Thanksgiving. He lives a lavish lifestyle, brushing elbows with celebrities. In the end, Lucas is viewed as a product of the system that is equally corrupt on both sides. While the effects of his business were significant, the audience does not blame him for his actions. This dynamic is what Jay-Z finds so appealing about the movie. Lucas’ internal struggles and motivations provide an exciting opportunity to dig into the mind of a gangster. The complex societal structures make the perfect playground for all types of art, including music.
Wednesday 19th: As we discussed in class on Monday, we have now shifted our mafia movie selection from just movies about Italian American mafia life that glories the gangster lifestyle to mafia movies that criticizes the Mafia lifestyle and document the gangster lifestyle beyond the Italian American experience. American Gangster is a perfect example of this new wave of gangster movies. I would argue that American Gangster is not a mafia movie but instead a commentary on gangster lifestyle of the black American community in Harlem NY in the 1970s. American Gangster uses key themes of mafia movies like having the opening scene be violent and has early commentary on how capitalism has erased the nostalgia of the past gangster lifestyle. However, unlike many mafia movies of the early 1900s in Hollywood, American Gangster explores the black American experience in Harlem, showing a transition into new cultural associations about the American gangster being multi-ethnic, dealing with drugs and guns rather than alcohol, the Italian American mafia expertise, which has continued into todays society. The continued transition of the mafia genre into the gangster genre was made clear within American Gangster through the literal turn over of power from the Italian American mafia to the black American gangster as Frank rise to power through drugs surpassing the past empires of the mafia. Not only is the transition of power and ways to obtain power new within the gangster genre but also the strong commentary on cops also being crooks in gangster genres, which is a stark contrast to past mafia movies where the police were seen as upstanding, rule following citizens. Within the new gangster genre, order has gotten out of control, as there is no longer a code of conduct, resulting in the corruption of everyone in the hopes of money and power.
Ridley Scott’s thriller/action film “American Gangster” tells the story of Frank Lucas, a heroin dealer who smuggles his drugs from Vietnam into New York during the 1970s. As his drug empire continues to rise, officer Richie Roberts and other rival gangs pose a challenge for Lucas. At the end of the film, Lucas is arrested by Roberts but is given a reduced sentence due to his willingness to cooperate with the police. Kenton Rambsy’s paper “Close-Up: Hip-Hop Cinema Jay Z’s American Gangster” talks about Jay Z’s album “American Gangster” in connection with Ridley Scott’s film. Strongly inspired by the film’s themes and plot, the album was greatly influenced by the movie. As stated by Rambsy, the album follows the film’s narrative in a three act structure – the Genesis, the Rise, and the Demise: the first act introducing characters and their motivations, the second building momentum to the climax, and the third detailing the consequences for the main character. I found the parallels between Jay Z’s album and the film’s three act structure particularly interesting and a very smart way of creatively tying the two together. In addition, I thought it was compelling how Jay Z oriented his own experiences with Frank Lucas’s. Through Rambsy’s use of the text mining technique, he was able to notice a lot of personal “I’m” statements as well as similes, successfully demonstrating how word choices can change the narration of a song or album. Rambsy’s paper shows how Jay Z’s album was more than just a musical arrangement, but that it was greatly shaped by Scott’s film and reflected Jay Z’s own personal experiences and was a key part of his artistic trajectory. While reading this paper I wondered if there were any other albums significantly influenced by films? This interplay between songs and film reminded me of Lenny Kravitz’s album “Strut,” which was fueled by his role in “The Hunger Games”.
For Mar 19th:
I thought that the reading was really interesting this time in that it focused on the impact of significant themes of the movie through music. It’s interesting to read how Jay-Z related to and was inspired by the movie in a way that I did not see when I saw the movie, making me realize how privileged I am. Through Jay-Z’s album, it was clear that he related to Lucas’s experience as his album explored themes of race, capitalism, and systemic oppression. In particular, his album highlights the struggles, ambition, and conflicts that Lucas had to go through, combining it with Jay-Z’s own hustling experience as he rose to fame from the streets. There was focus on the idea of how Lucas had to resort to extreme methods in order to become a self-made man through the American Dream. Jay-Z saw connections between Lucas and members of the Black community, where opportunities for success were limited, thus criticizing the nuance and implications of the American Dream. It was also interesting to read Rambsy’s analysis of how Jay-Z incorporated multiple film references in his album such as Scarface and The Godfather, as well as past hip hop artists such as Notorious B.I.G. to solidify his narrative. I had also previously noticed the common themes of oppression to “outsiders” and scarce opportunities for class mobility in the films. Hip hop genre as a whole gives raw and powerful beat drops, so the portrayal of these ideas feels more significant. Especially since music can be easier to listen to than watching a film, it probably helped spread awareness much more quickly.
Ridley Scott’s American Gangster (2007) tells the story Frank Lucas, the Harlem drug kingpin who reshaped the heroin trade. Played masterfully by Denzel Washington, Lucas defies the typical gangster mold by prioritizing strategy and discipline over reckless violence. His rise from a driver to the architect of a criminal empire is set against the story of Richie Roberts (Russell Crowe), an determined cop set on navigating the corruption within the NYPD. The film delves into balances of power and the murky moral overlap between law enforcement and crime.
What makes American Gangster particularly striking is its focus on a Black protagonist within a serious crime drama. Compared to many Black crime films I’ve seen—like Friday, which leans heavily on comedy—this film takes a much more serious approach to the way they decided to portray crime in a predominantly black area. It was refreshing to see a story that not only treats the subject matter with seriousness but also preserves the cultural and historical significance of Lucas’s journey.
Kenton Rambsy’s article, “Jay Z’s American Gangster,” explores how the film inspired Jay-Z to create a concept album that parallels Lucas’s rise with his own journey from Brooklyn’s Marcy Projects to rap icon. Rather than simply retelling Lucas’s story, Jay-Z uses the album to reflect on the gangster mindset and its broader cultural implications. Rambsy points out how Jay-Z’s lyrics center him in the narrative, reinforcing the idea that both crime and rap are about control, perception, and power. The article also sheds light on the relationship between hip-hop and Hollywood, where the gangster aesthetic fuels both industries in different ways.
One of the strongest connections between the film and Jay-Z’s album is the transformation of ambition into power. Both Lucas and Jay-Z carved out paths to the top by mastering their respective environments—one through heroin, the other through music. However, while American Gangster ultimately depicts Lucas’s downfall, Jay-Z’s narrative takes a victorious turn, repurposing struggles into a self-made success story.
Ridley Scott’s American Gangster was a very heavily packed movie that managed to not only take the ethnic tropes of the mafia genre and translate them into the lives of African Americans in late 20th century Harlem, but it also kept me entirely engaged throughout. There are a lot of similarities this film maintains with past mafia films we have seen, especially that of Goodfellas. Beyond the standard infiltration of the police system with cops engaging in theft, dishonesty, and other forms of corruption, I loved the callback post-credit scene of Lucas shooting the camera much like how Tommy’s character did the same. What was most interesting to me about this movie in relation to our past discussions, however, was how large an impact these films have on people. In previous lessons, we have seen how real-life mafia men modeled their behaviors after the criminals in these movies. In this week’s film and reading, we now see how even real-life artists are modeling their music and work based on these films, proving how great an influence this genre has on society as a whole. Jay Z in particular had a deep connection with the movie’s themes and its protagonist’s journey, crafting albums that use “personal pronouns and similes to create comparisons, thereby aligning his personal experiences with those of Harlem drug lord Frank Lucas”. Scott’s ability to cultivate a fascinating narrative based on a true story while still maintaining a representative culture that endured hardship is partly to thank for the film’s huge success with the audience; it also leads me to wonder how the mafia movie genre can be further manipulated to take into account other ethnicities and backgrounds, such as that of Asian Americans’ experience.
Ridley Scott’s “American Gangster” follows drug dealer Frank Lucas and police officer Richie Roberts in their journey throughout their careers. Frank gets involved in the heroin trade after his boss’s death, and Richie is tasked with bringing down major New York drug dealers. The film covers how they both carry out their responsibilities, culminating in them working together to take down corrupt officers in the NYPD and New York DEA, many of whom Frank has bribed during his time as a drug dealer. Richie eventually becomes a lawyer and defends Frank in his case, leading to a sentence of 70 years in prison with only 15 being served. In the Ramsby article, the part that stood out to me most was the reflection on the trends of the time that this film and album were released. Jay Z’s rapping career was winding down, but viewing the film American Gangster gave him the fuel to put out another rap album. During the process of producing American Gangster, Universal Pictures was also getting inspired by a rise in popularity of gangster and crime-related films. Cultural attitudes that pointed towards an interest in the gangster story led to the film and then subsequently the movie, where Jay Z took inspiration from both the film and from his life experiences.
I found it really interesting that Jay-Z drew inspiration from the film American Gangster, especially when so many of his career is dedicated to deconstructing and understanding the American identity. Incorporating a three act structure—Genesis, Rise, and Demise—into his own album was a particularly effective use of symbolism, demonstrating how the American dream can be different for so many people, yet unite them through prominent similarities.
The Italian mafia being used as a commentary on the American dream is not a new concept for this course, however, Jay-Z’s take on the issue is much different. From a film perspective, the characters that live the mafia lifestyle are living their version of the American dream. They see their illegal businesses as just businesses, their mafia families as their real families, and their success won through violence and extortion as success nonetheless.
Similarly, Jay-Z’s discography reference the American dream several times, oftentimes to critique false promises made to the Black community in the United States. He argues that systemic oppression and a lack of opportunities disillusioned him from this “dream.” To go even further, both mafia films and Jay-Z’s music are products themselves of the American dream, with inspired artists, whether they are filmmakers or music makers, using storytelling to spread their narratives.
American Gangster and the article both examine crime, capitalism, and power but through different lenses. One tells the story of an individual who masters the system only to be undone by its contradictions. The other reframes that narrative through hip-hop, emphasizing how these struggles persist across generations. Together, they expose the blurred line between economic ambition and criminality in America.
The film presents a version of the American Dream where success is achieved outside traditional structures. Its protagonist builds an empire through discipline and strategy, but his downfall reveals the limits of that success. While his rise follows the logic of capitalism by cutting out middlemen, ensuring quality, and maximizing profits, his eventual fate shows how certain figures are never truly allowed to win.
The article expands this by positioning hip-hop as a response to these systemic realities. It argues that hip-hop does not just reflect stories like American Gangster but reshapes them, linking past and present. The album it discusses is not just inspired by the film but reinvents it, highlighting the ways Black ambition is often criminalized.
By connecting these perspectives, American Gangster becomes more than a crime story. It is a commentary on the structures that define power, revealing how economic mobility is often dictated by factors beyond individual control. Hip-hop, as the article suggests, serves as both documentation and critique, offering a way to challenge these narratives rather than simply repeating them.
I thought American Gangster was a somewhat compelling take on the rise and fall of Frank Lucas who was a Harlem drug kingpin who built up his empire by cutting out the so-called “middleman” and instead just imported heroin directly from Southeast Asia. I feel like the film presents Lucas as both a ruthless criminal and a successful businessman which somewhat blurs the lines between corporate success and organized crime. What stood out to me the most was how the film framed Lucas’s rise as a challenge to both the Italian Mafia’s control over the heroin trade and the corruption within law enforcement, making his downfall feel somewhat inevitable. Also, I thought this film tied well into the reading from Kenton Rambsy’s Jay-Z’s American Gangster, where he talks about how Jay-Z’s album serves as both a personal reflection and an extension of the film’s themes in some ways. Rambsy highlights how Jay-Z uses first-person narration to show similarities between himself and Lucas which reinforces the idea of the self-made gangster. The reading also emphasized how Jay-Z’s album is structured into three acts—Genesis, Rise, and Demise—which mirrors the film’s storytelling. I thought this film also built on themes from previous movies we watched like Goodfellas and Casino. Like those films, American Gangster depicts crime as a structured business, but instead of an Italian-American perspective, it shifts focus to a Black gangster instead. However, I think what makes American Gangster stand out is how it tends to critique the American Dream. I felt like in The Godfather, crime was intertwined with family and tradition, but in this film, Lucas’s pursuit of power is purely capitalist. His empire is built on efficiency, not loyalty. This reminded me of how we discussed the evolution of Mafia films from mythologizing crime to deconstructing it. The film ultimately makes a strong case for how systemic corruption tends to enable figures like Lucas, showing that crime isn’t just about individuals but instead about the structures that allow them to thrive.
In the movie we once again see the blurred line of good and evil: there are bad cops and there are drug dealers with morals. Frank seems to live by a code just like the italian mafia men do, but instead of it being focused on family, it is focused on doing things the right way without being greedy. For example, Frank sells drugs that are significantly better quality for half the price. His justification is that that he gets enough with that price and taking any more is greedy. There is a stark contrast between him and other people in his business. He is an authentic person which is shown through his actions: doesn’t deceive people specifically with how concentrated the dope is and with his words: responding with his own name to the question “Who are you really” and saying “I don’t represent nothing but Frank Louis.”
In the beginning of the movie, if you disregarded the fact that his business was drugs, Frank would be considered a very moral and fair business man – a title not many businessmen hold. However, as the movie progresses Frank becomes more aggressive and angry. For example, shooting one of the men in a public place and beating up his own family for making the mistake of having dope in the car. He is still an intelligent businessman who cares about trademark infringement and the like, but he has more of a temper when people don’t prove to be as smart or capable as himself.
The article informed us that the songs in the album discuss the internal emotions of the drug dealer, but I wish they explained what specifically these songs were saying because I haven’t heard the album and I would like to know what these emotions are. I would also be curious to see if the album’s progression from Genesis, the Rise, and the Demise also portrayed a change in the protagonist like the movie did.
Watching American Gangster alongside reading Kenton Rambsy’s “Close-Up: Hip-Hop Cinema Jay Z’s American Gangster” made me think differently about the connections between film, music, and personal storytelling. The film presents Frank Lucas as a complex figure. At first, he seems like a businessman who values order and discipline, rather than just a violent criminal. He focuses on efficiency and cutting out unnecessary steps in the drug trade, which he justifies as a way to avoid greed. I found it interesting that Lucas imposes strict rules on himself and his family, like not drawing attention by flaunting wealth. However, over time, his control starts to unravel. Scenes like when he shoots a rival in broad daylight or violently lashes out at his cousin show how his temper and pride start to overtake his original code. I was struck by how his rise and fall follow the familiar arc of the American Dream corrupted by ambition and greed, something we have seen in other gangster films.
Rambsy’s article added another layer to my understanding of the film. I thought it was fascinating how Jay Z watched American Gangster and immediately connected it to his own life. Rambsy explains that Jay Z’s album is not just a retelling of Frank Lucas’s story but also a reflection of Jay Z’s experiences growing up and hustling in Brooklyn. I found the analysis of Jay Z’s word choices, especially his repeated use of “I’m,” really insightful. Rambsy shows how Jay Z positions himself as the central figure in his own narrative, even when inspired by someone else’s story. I also thought the discussion of how Jay Z structured the album into three acts—the Genesis, Rise, and Demise—parallels the structure of the film and gives the album a cinematic feel.
I really enjoyed this gangster movie, primarily because it presented an alternative narrative of what being a gangster is like. To start, the movie touches on Frank being a Black gangster, rather than an Italian gangster. Much of the dialogue surrounding his race is also prevalent and speaks to greater racial tensions in the U.S. during this time period. One specific scene where Frank’s race is explicitly discussed in the film is when Frank and Richie are talking after Frank’s arrest. Richie discusses how Frank represents progress which the white gangsters didn’t like. Therefore, they were willing to testify against Frank in order to reinstate a racial and social hierarchy which benefited the Italian gangsters. By intentionally presenting these conversations in the film, Scott takes a similar approach to Scorsese, in which he presents a prevalent social phenomenon through character dialogue. In the article “Close-Up: Hip-Hop Cinema Jay Z’s American Gangster” it is evident that Scott impactfully connects the movie to reality, as Jay Z found many parallels from American Gangster to his own upbringing. By utilizing the word “I’m” in his album, Jay Z impactfully connects himself to the narratives about Frank’s crime life. At one point the article went as far as to say that “Jay Z possessing more control over the music talent is akin to Lucas controlling the distribution of the heroin.” Jay Z’s album was able to give a backstory to Scott’s story, allowing viewers to resonate with the movie to a greater level. Overall, though I don’t believe I had a personal connection to the story, I do believe the culmination of music, stylistic film choices, characters, and plotline help create a gangster movie which resonates more with the audience than other films we’ve watched this semester. Frank seems like an average guy, which gives him more relatability and speaks more to people than a gangster who is intentionally over the top and is identifiable through his appearance and demeanor.
Scott’s 2007 American Gangster film is certainly unlike any other that we have watched up to this point in the course. (I now realize I say that with most of my blog posts, but I think that is more representative of the dynamics of the mafia genre and not my repetitive analyses!) American Gangster differentiates itself from genre classics like the Godfather franchise, Goodfellas, Scarface, etc. in two ways in my opinion: by depicting more of the behind-the-scenes development of the business and by having a primary focus on African American organized crime.
While I definitely give credit to Scott and the film for broadening the scope of the brand, I do have some main critiques. I think that the film poorly touches on some of the primary themes of the mafia genre, particularly the conflict between business and family. I felt that Frank’s family life was not emphasized much outside of his falling in love with Eva and the light interactions he has with family through the business. Additionally, I learned from searching around online that Richie did not actually have children at the time of him working the case, thus meaning the entire custody battle plotline was completely fabricated. I am curious about the intentional inclusion and intentional exclusion of family elements throughout the film; perhaps there is something I am missing from Scott’s intent. I point these items out because, for me, the struggle of the family is one of the most captivating elements of the plot in each mafia film, and I was not able to see as much of that in this film.
By focusing on Frank Lucas, a drug lord from Harlem whose orderly, corporate-style organization subverts the Italian-American predominance in organized crime movies, Ridley Scott’s 2007 film American Gangster reimagines the mafia story. Eliminating middlemen, guaranteeing product purity, and upholding discretion—a strategy that reflects the efficiency and market control of capitalism—are the keys to Lucas’s success. Like those in Scarface and The Godfather, he ultimately fails due to his own arrogance and pressure from the police.
Lucas follows a new code, one that prioritizes commerce over relatives, in contrast to conventional mafia movies that place an emphasis on family devotion. He places a higher priority on control and discipline and, in the interest of moral justice, refuses to overcharge for his goods. But his hostility and paranoia increase as his kingdom expands. Even the most strategic operators are eventually corrupted by power, as evidenced by his violent outbursts, which include publicly killing a rival and beating his own family members over thoughtless errors.
Hip-Hop Film: A Close-Up of Kenton Rambsy Jay-Z’s American Gangster demonstrates how the entrepreneurial spirit of hip-hop is used in Jay-Z’s concept album to retell Lucas’s story. Jay-Z frames Lucas as a representation of Black economic aspirations in a system that restricts legal wealth-building by equating drug selling with rap. His album reflects broader themes of triumph, extravagance, and downfall, mirroring the film’s rise-and-fall storyline. The classic mafia paradigm is complicated in American Gangster, which portrays organized crime as a mirror of racial barriers and a tool for emancipation.
Ridley Scott’s American Gangster stands out to me not only as a remarkable entry in the mafia movie genre but for offering a perspective rarely portrayed: the African American experience. The film follows Frank Lucas as he meticulously builds his drug empire, branding his product “Blue Magic” and rising to the top of Harlem’s criminal underworld. While it shares many thematic parallels with classic mafia films we’ve studied in class, what sets it apart is its cultural specificity and the lens through which it portrays organized crime.
This unique depiction is further amplified by the film’s sound design and soundtrack, reinforcing its atmosphere and narrative weight. Our readings this week highlight how the mafia genre has influenced music as well, with Jay-Z directly crediting this film as inspiration for one of his albums. That album mirrors Lucas’s rise and fall—his strategic takeover, his loyalty to his family, his dominance over rivals, and, ultimately, his downfall. The conclusion closely parallels Goodfellas, as Lucas, in an effort to reduce his sentence, turns informant against corrupt police officers. Despite securing his release, he emerges not as a transformed man but as a remnant of his past self.
Perhaps the film’s most poetic moment comes in its final act when Richie Roberts, Lucas’ relentless pursuer, ultimately becomes his defense attorney. The fact that American Gangster is rooted in real events only solidifies its place as a defining work in the mafia genre
I had expected the paper to describe only how the movie and album were similar, but I was intrigued by how they described the way they complement each other. They discuss how in most gangster films, the main figure is often portrayed as “stoic” and that they “hardly reveal themself”. I found this to be true for American Gangster as Frank is controlled and composed. However, it seems that Jay Z’s album provided that lack of depth and complexity, filling in the uncertainty about Frank’s feelings and motivations. I don’t know if this applies to all gangster films, as I felt characters like Michael Corleone made his feelings clear, however, I appreciate and understand what Jay Z was bringing to this movie specifically.
The article stated, “Washington saw American Gangster as an opportunity to take on what he saw as a more challenging and creative role.” I went back to this quote after finishing the paper because this is what I felt Jay Z was also experiencing. The paper repeatedly emphasizes how unique and uncommon his decision to create an entire album inspired by a film was. Perhaps the creative and challenging step that Washington and Jay Z both had to take for their American Gangsters is what made both so well appreciated and successful.
I found American Gangster to stand out among some of the films we’ve studied in this course, but it also carries many common treads of the general gangster genre. The film dives deep into the true cost of ambition, power, and the mechanics of Frank Lucas’ heroin empire in the Northeast. One of the most memorable sequences, the church scene intercut with the federal agents tearing apart Lucas’ operation while “Amazing Grace” plays, feels like a direct nod to The Godfather’s baptism montage. The juxtaposition of Lucas in a sacred space with the violent collapse of his empire underscores the hypocrisy at his core. He presents himself as disciplined and authentic, but beneath the surface, his moral compass is consistently compromised. He’s devout but corrupt, seemingly moral, but ruthless.
The article also touches on Jay-Z’s creative response to Lucas’ story. Just as Scott shows Lucas navigating a broken system, Jay-Z used his album to explore the internal conflict of someone who rises from the streets. His lyrics align with the film’s themes but also go further by giving voice to the mental turmoil that the film left unopened. Where Scott focused on Lucas’ public collapse, Jay-Z went into the psyche of the gangster figure: the loneliness, paranoia, and burden of success. together, the movie and album paint a full picture of a man trapped between extreme power and collapse.
I think American Gangster was a great shift in tone from the previous films. It did a few things different in comparison to previous movies that made it stand out to me. First, the protagonist perspective coming from an African American gangster is something that we hadn’t seen yet. The lens not coming from the Italian American side changes the way we view the film because that’s all we’ve seen so far. With that, this story also stood out because of the individual focus on Frank more so than an organization or family like in previous films. While we get context for Frank’s business, the story felt centered around him and the cop that was after him. This conflict really carried the plot well and was a good choice on how to effectively tell this story. This film also focused on a wider scale drug operation that reached around the world, instead of the more local and family run businesses that we’ve seen previously.
To briefly touch on the article as well, I thought it was a good commentary on how Jay Z used the film as a way to tell his own stories with similar themes. The idea of building your own success in a broken world is something mirrored between the two and it was a really creative choice by Jay Z to run with the film and turn it into something else as well.
This film taught me that it truly does not matter if you are Italian or Black or anything else, the money will always be something that connects all of us. I found it incredibly interesting how Frank realized that there was an opportunity to be making a lot of money and he set his business up in a way to be the most profitable and successful as possible. The way he accomplished this was through methods that were very similar to the American Mafia. There were many hints in the movie that made the audience recall mafia movies of the past to strengthen the connection between the traditional mafia and Frank’s business. The entire plot was very reminiscent of early mafia films where the main character starts at the bottom and increasingly gains confidence and influence, but by the end of the movie reaches their downfall and ends up in a similar place to where they started. At first Frank wanted to be as low key as possible in the public light to make sure that he was not easily picked out of a crowd, but as he gained success he took more risks such as wearing the fancy coat to the fight. Of course family and religion played a big part in the film as well which is extremely common in mafia movies. Another small element in the film that I noticed was that at the fight when the detective was taking pictures of Frank, the director added in gun shot sound effects. The symbolism of a camera being similar to a gun was used very often in mafia movies and this is what I believe the director wanted to portray in this scene.
Scott made a deliberate effort to root the film American Gangster in the authentic look and feel of the 1970s, using natural lighting and a muted color palette to mirror the visual style of classic crime films. Instead of the exaggerated neon-soaked visuals often associated with gangster films, American Gangster presents Harlem and New York’s criminal underworld in a way that feels raw, understated, and immersive. Everything from the costume design to the locations was carefully crafted to enhance realism, making the film feel like a historical document as much as a Hollywood drama.
American Gangster also explores the complex parallel between Frank Lucas and Richie Roberts, the detective played by Russell Crowe. Though they exist on opposite sides of the law, both men share striking similarities. They are isolated, disciplined, and unwilling to compromise their principles, even if it means making enemies. Lucas builds his empire with ruthless efficiency, emphasizing family loyalty and business acumen, while Roberts refuses to take bribes in a deeply corrupt police system, alienating himself from his colleagues. Their eventual confrontation isn’t just about crime and justice, but instead it’s about two men who operate under strict codes of conduct in worlds where few others do. It feels like a movie (much like the others we’ve seen) with power, morality, and the blurred lines between success and destruction.
American Gangster presents a counterpoint to the traditional Italian mafia narratives that have long dominated the crime film genre. While classics like The Godfather and Goodfellas depict the rigid, hierarchical structures of Italian-American crime families, American Gangster shifts the focus to organized crime in 1970s Harlem, centering on Frank Lucas who challenges the mafia’s dominance.
One of the film’s most striking contrasts with Italian mafia movies is its portrayal of power and independence. In films like The Godfather, power is inherited and deeply tied to family and tradition. Lucas, in contrast, rises through ingenuity, bypassing the mafia’s middlemen and securing direct drug shipments from Southeast Asia. His story challenges the notion that organized crime must be structured around old-world traditions, proving that new, innovative players can disrupt the status quo.
Yet, despite their differences, American Gangster and Italian mafia films share key themes: loyalty, betrayal, and the eventual downfall of those who rise too high. Like Michael Corleone in The Godfather, Lucas’s success ultimately isolates him. His business model, built on discretion, is undermined by his own ego, particularly when he wears a flamboyant chinchilla coat to a boxing match—drawing the attention of detective Richie Roberts. This mirrors how hubris often dooms protagonists in Italian mafia films, where flashy displays of wealth invite law enforcement scrutiny.
Ultimately, American Gangster redefines the crime saga, proving that the mafia is not the only force shaping America’s underworld. The film expands the genre’s scope, showing that the rules of organized crime are constantly evolving—even if its downfalls remain the same.
Many of the films we have covered throughout this class have touched on either the Italian perspective on gangsters or on Hollywood’s perception of Italian gangsters through portrayals of the Mafia. In “American Gangster,” we see how Jay-Z’s album by the film’s namesake reimagines the gangster archetypes entrenched in cinematic history. Traditionally, mafia films–as we have seen throughout this class–romanticize the rise and fall of antiheroes through a lens of power, loyalty, and moral decay. “American Gangster” subverts this by centering Frank Lucas, a Black drug lord whose real-life story disrupts the Eurocentric gangster canon. Similarly, Jay-Z’s album reappropriates the genre’s tropes, not just to glorify criminality, but to interrogate its psychological weight. Jay-Z’s spike in the use of “I’m” throughout his album “American Gangster” also serves to express the parallels between the film to his upbringing.
The film’s portrayal of Lucas echoes the architecture of the gangster drama but combines that with racial struggle. We can see this clearly on “Pray,” where Jay-Z raps, “I’m cut from the cloth of the Kennedys,” a line that underscores Lucas’s struggle with mythologized white dynasties–a struggle that Jay-Z experiences as well. One question I have is to what extent was this media’s message directly driven by the cross-media collaboration with Jay-Z, and how did it serve to redefine the narrator of the gangster mythos.
I thought it was interesting how American Gangster breaks the standard Italian mafia stereotype by having Frank Lucas as an African American gangster. Particularly, I thought it was interesting how when the Detective is describing Lucas to his team, he talks about how he learned from the Italians and how he adopted their business model but ultimately outperformed them. This moment highlights how Lucas strategically positioned himself within the existing power structures of organized crime while simultaneously disrupting them.
One thing about the cinematography of this film that stood out to me was that it looked like there was a filter, changing the color of the film. I don’t know exactly what the term to describe this is, but I think it contributed to the overall atmosphere of the film. The muted, almost sepia-toned color grading gave the film a documentary-like aesthetic. I think this color treatment helps immerse the audience in the time period and make it feel as though we are watching real events.
Lastly, it was interesting to read the paper on how the film inspired Jay Z to create an album with the same title. Beyond simply gaining inspiration, Jay-Z used the film as a framework to craft a concept album that paralleled both Lucas’s rise and fall and his own experiences. It was fascinating to see such an explicit link between Hollywood and Hip Hop.
American Gangster honestly made me sad. Even the dark, yellowish lighting throughout the entire film made it hard to watch without feeling ill. It was disturbing to see people profiting off an industry designed to kill—not just poor people in poverty-stricken neighborhoods in the U.S., but also American troops in a war that the majority of citizens opposed. Watching people exploit national struggle for personal gain was gross.
The racial element of this film adds another layer of nuance. The montage of drugs being sold exclusively to people of color by the hands of people of color was tough to watch. On the other hand, the scene in which Frank brings his entire family to their new home—a mansion that literally looks like the White House—gives viewers a weird sense of respect for his accomplishment. This contrast was intentional.
Unlike the vibrancy and thrill of Scorsese-style mafia films, American Gangster felt muted and methodical, which I think directly correlated to the general detest I felt for many of the characters. Everything about Richie and his fellow cops was repulsive—from their gross demeanor while dancing in clubs to covering up fellow cops’ murders—yet they are supposed to be the good guys? At least Frank maintained poise and eloquence throughout the beginning of the film, never lacking in decorum.
To watch Richie embark on a supposed journey for justice by stopping Frank—only for Frank to expose corrupt cops for a reduced sentence—felt like a sick joke. Richie himself is a corrupt cop.
Overall, this was a great film that really made me think. But because it lacked the usual excitement of mafia films, I felt completely disconnected from the characters and generally disheartened by the outcome.
P.S: I could not access the link to the reading and when I tried to search it online, I was not given access even with the Duke Login, not sure if anyone else had this issue?
Watching American Gangster alongside reading Kenton Rambsy’s analysis of Jay-Z’s American Gangster album deepened my appreciation for how stories evolve across mediums. The film presents Frank Lucas as more than just a criminal—he operates like a disciplined businessman, enforcing efficiency and discretion in his empire. His strict rules, like avoiding flashy displays of wealth, initially seem like strategies for long-term success. Yet, his downfall is inevitable. His control erodes as ego takes over, mirroring the classic gangster arc where ambition eventually breeds self-destruction.
Beyond the film, American Gangster sparked an artistic response in hip-hop. As Kenton Rambsy’s article details, Jay-Z’s concept album of the same name mirrors both Lucas’s rise and his own. His use of first-person storytelling places him in the center of a similar journey—from street hustler to mogul—demonstrating how gangster narratives transcend mediums. The album serves as a lyrical companion to the film, offering a deeper look into the mindset of those who navigate power, risk, and survival.
Ultimately, American Gangster expands the crime genre, proving that the American underworld isn’t just ruled by one archetype. Whether in film or music, the rules of power are always evolving—yet the price of ambition remains the same.
“American Gangster” accepts and exemplifies the thematic concept of family in a way that virtually mirrors that of “The Godfather.” However, one thing particularly striking about this film is its ability to adapt not just the theme of family, but other traditional mafia-genre themes as well, to its specific context. For example, this film makes a concerted effort to provide commentary on the American Dream, much like many other mafia movies we’ve watched previously.
One thing that stood out to me in this film is that, after using the money he makes from peddling drugs, Frank moves his family from the South (North Carolina) to the North (New York)—which I saw as a play on the journey toward freedom for Black people looking to escape racism, thereby adding a layer to the critique of the American Dream that we see in other mafia films by recontextualizing it from the perspective of Black Americans.
Additionally, this movie furthers the exposé of American political corruption and its interplay with organized crime in the context of the war on drugs and, more subtly, in the context of the Vietnam War. Frank organizes his drug trafficking like a legitimate business, which is made apparent when he confronts Nicky about “copyright” and “branding”—a very explicit critique of American capitalism and the rather weak facade of legality and fairness that is used to shield ruthless and pernicious business practices.
One cinematic method that I noticed in this film was the use of wide shots, which left me uncertain whether they were meant to show Frank as a cog in a large machine (similar to “Il Mafioso”) or to illustrate his means of blending in and his aversion to materialism, which he expressed when confronting his brother about his suit.
Ridley Scott’s American Gangster challenges the conventions of traditional gangster films by presenting a more complex portrayal of crime, morality, and systemic corruption. Unlike classic gangster films that glorify the rise and fall of criminals, American Gangster presents Frank Lucas as a self-made businessman whose criminal empire is built on discipline rather than excess. This separation from the stereotypical gangster film which often romanticizes its protagonists adds more realism to the narrative.
Kenton’s analysis of gangster films highlights their historical and cultural significance and shows how American Gangster shifts the paradigm by focusing on an African American protagonist who operates outside the Italian-dominated crime world. Jay-Z’s album American Gangster serves as an artistic response that bridges hip-hop culture and gangster cinema. Kenton’s discussion of rap’s role in reinterpreting crime narratives is relevant as Jay-Z uses the film’s themes to reflect on his own journey and equates the disciplined rise of Frank Lucas with the entrepreneurial hustle of hip-hop artists. Through this fusion, American Gangster extends its influence beyond film and impacts music while reinforcing the cultural dialogue between crime, success, and systemic barriers.
Through its departure from genre norms and its artistic reinterpretation, American Gangster redefines what a gangster film can be and offers a socially conscious narrative that resonates beyond crime and violence.
I was very interested in the connections between the film American Gangster and the analysis of Jay-Z’s album titled American Gangster by Rambsy. To start, the film takes us through the story of Frank Lucas who deviates from the traditional mafia character. The film gives race a major role and displays the struggle for those such as African-Americans. The theme of finding a new path to take on the system is very clear in this film, and this remains consistent as Lucas builds his empire in the film. Similar to other mafia films, though, violence, corruption, and related destruction to communities still exists in American Gangster.
Moving to Rambsy’s analysis, it was cool to learn why Jay-Z titled his album American Gangster as well. The rise of Lucas in the film was used as inspiration and a supposed parallel to Jay-Z’s personal rise in music. This relationship further reflects the struggle for self-made success and how personal control is needed to take on the system. Jay-Z’s personal connections in this album also demonstrate the struggles shown in the film, as Jay-Z tells of his own journey to make it beyond the “streets” and the ambition and survival skills needed.
Being able to connect hip hop to a mafia film is not a very common connection, but the storytelling in both of these pieces revolving around black men attempting to gain influence in worlds/spaces that are hard to attain in our society is a super important piece. This was very meaningful to me, and it shifted my perception of the influence that mafia movies could have due to this differing style.
Ridley Scott’s use of impressive stylistic and thematic techniques tells the story of the rise of a black businessman “who represents progress” and highlights the growing corruption of the police force. Overall, I really enjoyed the film and was impressed by the intricate sequences that employ a variety of camera movements and angles; it seems as though the auteur theory we discussed in class could also apply here. Music, as emphasized in the essay, also plays a significant role, and it was interesting to read how Jay-Z was able to identify with Frank Lucas when writing music for his album. The film is relevant to our ongoing discussion regarding the crisis of the mafia movie but shifts the narrative to tell the story of an African American gangster rather than another Italian mafioso, and these differences are addressed in the film. Frank operates independently by cutting out the middle man, importing his product from Vietnam, creating a fortune by selling it at an affordable price to the masses. We are reminded of how Frank’s lavish lifestyle is made possible in the Thanksgiving sequence, where brightly lit shots of celebration are juxtaposed with grim, dark images of the customers and victims of his empire. The family scene contrasts with Richie’s lonely life as a detective and serves as an interesting point of comparison between his character and Donnie Brasco. Whereas in the previous film, the detective begins to embody the values of a mafioso, American Gangster portrays a detective who remains committed to his morals at work but struggles within his family dynamic.
American Gangster (2007) is based on Frank Lucas’ heroin empire in the late 1960s and early 1970s. The film follows a moral detective Richie Roberts as he operates within the corrupt police force, working to bring Lucas down. Roberts eventually uncovers Lucas’ heroin imports from Vietnam and arrests him. To avoid life in prison, Lucas cooperates with authorities, offering critical evidence against corrupt NYPD officers and members of the Italian Mafia. Kenton Rambsy’s Close-Up: Hip-Hop Cinema: Jay Z’s American Gangster explores how Jay Z’s American Gangster album was heavily inspired by Ridley Scott’s 2007 film. The article mentions that gangster films have long served as inspiration for rap songs, however, not many are such a direct musical parallel to a film’s narrative. Jay Z resonated with Frank Lucas’ character, seeing reflections of his own journey–Lucas’ rise and control over the heroin trade mirroring Jay Z’s dominance in the music industry. Rambsy’s analysis of Jay Z’s word choice throughout his albums, highlights how Jay Z consistently positions himself as the protagonist, blending autobiography, allusions, and fictional storytelling. This is no different in his American Gangster album. Throughout producing the album, Jay Z creativity blurs the lines between the music and the cinema. The album follows a three-part structure which mimics the film’s structure. The album opens with “Act 1: Genesis,” introducing the protagonist, exploring their motivations and struggles. Following, “Act 2: The Rise,” accounts the character’s success, reflecting Lucas’ peak in the film. “Act 3: The Demise,” depicts the fall from power which echoes Lucas’ arrest and conviction. Jay Z’s album was praised for his concept, mastering this ability to blend film, music, and autobiography. Jay Z offers a nuanced interpretation of the gangster depiction, adding emotional depth to humanize the gangster figure in ways films rarely do.
We frequently discuss how gangster films reflect the zeitgeist, but this article made me consider their role in shaping it–not just mirroring the cultural narratives but actively influencing pop culture across mediums.
For March 24th Class: Scarface (1983) is the famous story that follows the rise and fall of Tony Montana, who becomes one of the most famous drug lords after moving to Miami after his part in the assassination of a Cuban government official. The film explores themes of greed and self-destruction as Tony’s relentless pursuit of wealth and power are what eventually lead to his downfall. Bogue’s article brings to light and showcases how Montana’s rise to power isn’t a conventional story of class mobility, but rather a simulation of success, where things like power and money function in a detached, self-referential system. One of the most interesting things to me in both the movie and the reading was the use of cocaine as a metaphor. Bogue argues that cocaine isn’t simply a product that Montana sells, but a representation of capitalism itself. In the film, the cocaine is represented as limitless, instantly transforming into cash. One of the key and defining characteristics of cocaine is its ability to never fully satisfy. It only fuels the desire to want more and more. This is a parallel to the way Montana lives his life; he constantly wants more; more money, more power, more women. His mantra, “The world is yours,” is yet another example of that desire to want more and more because his mantra encapsulates his unchecked capitalist dream where accumulation has no endpoint and finish line. The cocaine, while it seems to empower Tony, it also makes him delusional and traps him in this endless cycle of violence and consumption. All in all, in Scarface, cocaine isn’t just used as a plot device, it’s used as a metaphor for unlimited desire, unchecked capitalism, and the illusion of power. Tony Montana embodies this, where more is never enough, and the pursuit of power and heavy greed lead to self-destruction. The film’s excess (violence, money, drug use) is part of its critique. De Palma presents an exaggerated world to reflect the reality of a system driven by addiction, whether to drugs or to capital. The question that both the movie and reading leave me with is: How much is enough? How do you know when it’s the right time to stop before everything you’ve worked for goes down the drain?
We see a large number of common mafia movie tropes in Scarface in both the themes and the stylistic filming of those themes. Has the genre exhausted itself and is now just using old pieces as it fits together a new puzzle for a movie. While Scarface, based on the 1932 movie Scarface directed by Howard Hawks and written by Ben Hect, to whom this movie is dedicated, is modernized to show crime in Miami instead of Chicago and uses Cuban immigrants instead of Italian immigrants, you find many similarities with the original and other gangster movies of that time period. You also see some similarities with scenes from the Godfather 1 & 2 and some scenes that will appear or could be the basis for scenes in later movies like the Untouchables, also by De Palma, and the Godfather 3.
• Intro – crawl text, titles, panning shots from above in the harbor in Mariel and as they land and are housed in Miami, immigration w/some criminals, Tony being a young wise-ass when questioned by border patrol
• Freedom town – sets up the poverty/discrimination & environment which forces them into crime to get out by doing assassination
• The issues of coming up poor and trying to attain class and showing Tony as uncouth and proving that you can’t buy “class”: At Sosa’s – after lunch Tony and Omar are given finger bowls with a lemon in them to wash their hands but Tony is unaware of this custom and eats the lemon; clothes as a symbol of class as when Tony meets Frank he’s wearing a new suit but Frank still says he’s going to buy him some new clothes; Omar talking to Frank and remarking about Tony “he’s a fucking peasant”; Elvira commenting on the garish car when Tony picks her up and says later that “I don’t fuck around with the help”. Elvira says at the club that “excess is success.”
• Frank having rules: “don’t underestimate the other guy’s greed,” which Franks break and leads to his downfall as he underestimates Tony; and “don’t do the product” which Tony breaks which leads to his downfall.
• As in the original we see the phrase “World is yours” – billboard in original, but on a blimp and on the statue in Tony’s house.
• The original and earlier mafia movie movies have the prohibition of alcohol as the catalyst for entrepreneurial crime, here we have the prohibition of drugs, through the beginning of the drug trade is what starts the war in Godfather 1.
• As in the Godfather and later in Casino, the main character is struck by “the thunderbolt”: Tony when he sees Elvira, Michael when he sees Apollonia (Godfather 1), Lefty when he sees Ginger (Casino).
• Lots of long take panning shots, in the beginning as mentioned above; along with crane shots from high to low the assassination in Freedom town which De Palma uses again in the Untouchables; and then a crane shot from low to high when Tony is in the opulent tub.
• Like the original, Tony’s mother doesn’t like what he grew up to be
• Tony speaking out of turn about a drug deal with Sosa got Omar killed – just like Sonny speaking out with Sollozzo caused Don Vito to be shot like sonny protective of sister
• Frank talks old style mafia – guys who last are low-key and not flashy
• Club scenes where everyone knows Tony once he’s made it
• The people who have attained success the more normal way, the Pezzonovante, are seen as having power over the immigrants: corrupt cops, corrupt bankers, etc.
• The first hit attempt on Tony at the club with lots of fancy decorations and glass and lights could be the genesis of the idea that Coppola used for the hit scene on Michael where Joey Zaza tries to assassinate him and the other Dons in the penthouse in Godfather 3. The action, both Tony and Michael running hunched down to escape, lights and glass crashing to the ground are all very similar.
• As in real life and later in the Untouchables, it’s unpaid taxes and the IRS which become the basis of the charges against Tony
• Elvira as a wife sometimes acts like Kay in the Godfather – doesn’t want to have a kid with Tony and bring the child into that world and eventually leaves when the violence gets to be too much.
• Also, like Kay, Tony’s mother says “everything you touch you destroy.”
• As in the original, Tony has an extreme protectiveness and jealousy for his sister. It was hinted in the original that those feelings might go too far but here it’s blatant as Gina tries to mockingly seduce Tony while shooting at him after Tony kills her new husband Manny. This also mirrors Sonny attacking Connies’ husband and later on Michael having him killed.
• Michael kills his “brother” Fredo much like Tony kills Manny who is his defacto brother
• At the end of the credits, there’s a text statement that the film and its portrayal is not representative of all Cuban-Americans. Interesting that it was after the credits at the end of the movie because I doubt many people will have seen it. But it does hark back to the gangster movies of the 30’s where those statements were also made in gangster movies.
• And just an interesting point, Frank wears a necklace with a the Jewish “chai” symbol on it. He also uses as Jewish idiom of pig when he points out to Tony “El gordo” in the club.
Scarface (1983) follows the rise of Tony Montana from a low class Cuban immigrant to an immensely wealthy drug lord in Miami. Like the original Scarface, the main character’s reign ends when he is murdered, unlike the true story of Al Capone. Another similarity is the way that Montana murders his best friend for his recent marriage to his sister, which Camonte also does right before his death. Montana’s end had a very Gatsby quality, in my opinion, with him being shot and falling into the pool. Similar to the Great Gatsby, this allusion could be commenting on the erosion of the American Dream. The stylistic choices of the movie reminded me of Casino, with the saturated colors and the drug use. Elvira’s character to me, seemed very similar to Ginger from Casino, as well, filling the cliche of the blonde American trophy wife who becomes addicted to her husband’s drugs and money.
One thing from the reading which I found particularly interesting is how the plot mirrors the effects of cocaine addiction. We see Tony become more aggressive toward Elvira as his sexual desire for her is replaced by his desire for drugs, for example. Similarly, his insatiable drive for more money and power mimics the way cocaine stimulates the desire centers of the brain. This greed ultimately is what leads to Montana’s downfall, even before his death, with the tax evasion charges being brought against him.
Brian De Palma’s “Scarface” (1983) is a uniquely violent portrayal of the “American Dream” gone wrong. The film opens during a real historical moment that my family has a direct connection to. My grandma grew up in Miami Beach and remembers when the Marielitos arrived from Cuba in 1980. She was already an adult, so she mostly saw and heard how it impacted her family and neighborhood from afar. That made the opening scenes of the film all the more powerful. I know the Mariel boatlift brought over 100,000 Cubans to Miami in a short time, reshaping both the city’s culture and economy. The film shows that change as a chaotic event, casting the new immigrants as criminals and threats. The movie opens with real footage of the Mariel arrivals, but quickly shifts into a fictional story about Tony Montana, who rises to power through violence and drugs. With my grandma’s perspective in mind, it’s striking how “Scarface” turns a real historical event into a spectacle. It made me think about how movies can distort public perception. Ronald Bogue’s essay helps explain this. He argues that Tony doesn’t chase a real version of the American Dream, but a fake, media-driven image of success. Using Baudrillard’s idea of the “simulacrum,” Bogue shows how Tony’s world is all surface—cocaine, flashy clothes, big houses—without substance. In the film, cocaine is like capital: addictive, excessive, and detached from real work or value. “Scarface” doesn’t really show Miami or its immigrant communities. It shows a fantasy of power and wealth shaped by pop culture.
I found it particularly interesting that Scarface resembles so many qualities of a mafia movie, yet it does not reference the classic Italian mafia. Even in American Gangster, though Frank is not Italian, the police make a comment about how “[Frank] learned from the Italians.” It’s interesting to see how, at this point in our class, we have seen a similar narrative play out in different ethnic enclaves.
As we are soon going to talk about the role of women in mafia films, I found myself thinking about the women in this film. I thought it was interesting how the film uses Tony’s relationship with the women in his life to show us different aspects of his character. Particularly, Tony’s relationships with his sister and with Elvira can be viewed as highlighting an underlying desire rather than a genuine connection. In terms of Elvira, he seems to want her more as a symbol of his success rather than for love. He treats her as a “trophy” of his wealth and power. As for his sister, Tony’s relationship with Gina can be viewed as a symbol of his desire to protect something innocent and untouched by the corrupt world he inhabits.
While watching Scarface, one thing that I found to be particularly interesting was the linear and inverse relationships among various symbolic depictions throughout the film and Tony’s wealth and success. As Tony became more successful, his consumption and houses became more extravagant and colorful. As his success increased, so did his cocaine possession and use, as well as his paranoia. Conversely, as he became more successful, his relationships with his friends and family declined. So too did his mental state, seen through not only his increasing outbursts but also through his declining posture and widening eyes over the course of the film. All of these features, either increasing or decreasing to extremes, demonstrate the consequences of Tony’s choices. As the article suggested, these features of the film aid the larger critique of postmodern capitalism and overconsumption. Despite Tony seemingly getting everything material that he wanted, he loses himself and everyone else important to him in the process. The chaos in Tony’s life builds over the course of the film, anticipating the final scene where it all blows up in a violent mess. You can feel Tony’s death coming when the crescendo of lavishness hits its peak in the final scenes, amplified by the red-carpeted mansion and the mountain of cocaine on Tony’s desk. Contrary to his peaked success, he loses his sister after just killing his business partner and friend. These extremes work together to amplify the anticipation of Tony’s death and to impose his growing anxiety on the audience.
I was fairly satisfied with the 1983 Scarface remake for several reasons. Overall, I think DePalma actually does a good job with some stylistic and directorial choices, and I do think it especially fits the mold of the mafia movie that we have been discussing (an ambitious protagonist and their pursuit and subsequent perversion of the American Dream through organized crime…). Additionally, I think Pacino did a really good job of portraying the kind of character that Tony Montana was – the immigration interrogation in particular was one of my favorite scenes in the film.
I was honestly a bit apprehensive prior to watching because it was yet another Pacino-centric work (I do wonder if the casting ever gets too repetitive to a point: Pacino, De Niro, Pesci, etc.), but his acting was impeccable. If I were to add criticism, it would be about his Cuban accent, which bothered me for almost the entire movie. I can understand that this kind of dialogue coaching may be difficult, but I feel like it was too forced and Pacino just very much missed the mark with it.
I am generally a skeptic about remakes and usually despise them just because they are rarely anywhere near as enjoyable as the original, but I really feel that DePalma’s Scarface was different enough in style to the point where it was both enjoyable and still hit all the same thematic elements that the original was emphasizing. Certain stylistic choices and some alterations to the plot even added to the mafia-esque storyline: for example, cocaine was more of a central subject in this film instead of a means to a business end like alcohol was in the 1932 version, which I think was interesting and which was noted in the Bogue essay. He states, “[C]apital is also like cocaine, an amalgam of power, consumption pleasure and insatiable desire” (Bogue 124). That kind of perspective made me appreciate some of the differences between the 1932 and 1983 versions more, as DePalma attempted to keep the derivative film different enough so that it would still sell.
After watching the original Scarface (1932) earlier in the semester, it’s impossible not to notice the many clear callbacks to this movie that De Palma included in his remake. To me, Scarface (1983) seems like all of the elements that make Scarface (1932) a mafia movie to the most extreme extent you could imagine. This includes elements like the classic mob boss mansion scene, where Tony sees the lifestyle of Frank (and Frank’s girl at the time, Elvira) and decides that that is what he wants. Furthermore, the character of Elvira is similar to Poppy in the original film. We also have a similar relationship between Tony and his sister, Gina, as the relationship between Tony and Cecsa. Somehow the incestual tone that the audience senses at the beginning of the movie (and that which is seen in Scarface 1932) is made abundantly clear by the end of the film in the last scene before Gina is killed. The film ends with Tony getting shot in the back and falling into an indoor fountain that contains a version of the same “world is yours” globe that we see in Scarface (1932). Between the length of the film, the repetition and exaggeration of the original plotlines, and the extremism in all aspects of the film, I think Scarface (1982) seems to represent the epitome of an exhaustion of the classic ‘rise and fall of the gangster’ storyline in gangster movies. Similar to what De Palma does in Untouchables (1987), Scarface seems to play into many common tropes of this storyline.
I’ve developed a fascination with the impact of family members who are and are not cued into the mafia world. To some degree, the sudden influx of wealth, suspicious nighttime activities, and infrequent visits home should signal red flags to anyone closely enough involved in a gangster’s life. As with Karen Good Fellas, family members sometimes embrace it and revel in their newfound wealth. Other times, family members are oddly unaware, like Mrs. DeVito in Good Fellas. And sometimes, family members are highly disapproving, as with Mama Montana in Scarface.
The role of the disapproving mother is rarely more than words, however, and is merely a prop to show that the gangster life will always be short-lived. I cannot think of an instance of a film we’ve watched where a mother’s disapproval of the mafia life was enough to cause any son to leave the mafioso. This trope is fascinating because the maternal figure is in stark contrast to the feminine trophy wives that mafia men cling to as signs of power and success. What is the purpose of a mother in mafioso films, then? I believe that it’s two-fold. On the one hand, it demonstrates the importance of family ties to mafia families. Secondly, it shows how unnatural the world of the mafia is and how desperate for approval mafioso men are. Despite spending a day hacking off someone’s arm and sawing someone’s face, there remains a maternal figure many mafia men return home to in hopes of pleasing them and providing for their families. While this is an oversimplification, the crux remains: when all is said and done, these men blindly searching for power often desperately seek approval, whether from a mother, a girlfriend, or a mafioso family. As in Scarface, a mother frequently refuses to offer that to them, further emboldening their power trip.
I appreciated this remake of Scarface a lot, primarily because it presented a postmodern metaphor of capitalist America. One scene in particular that I observed and am glad the article also brought forth is when Tony breaks Frank’s rule to not get high on your own supply of cocaine. The article looks at this from the standpoint of cocaine as capital and capital as cocaine, but I see it more through the American capitalist trend that people are never satisfied with what they have and always want more. I also felt this way when Tony killed Frank. Though Frank had offered a significant amount of money to spare his life, Tony still had him killed because he wasn’t looking for money in this point of his career, but instead was enthralled by the opportunity of being the top man and gaining power. These scenes both play into Baudrillard’s belief that we live in a time period of simulation and the hyperreal and that everything can be a commodity (even power). Though the article mentions this is the first remake in the genre, it is a bit hard to believe given all the movies repeat similar themes, making them all seem like a remake of previous movies. For example, this film repeated the theme of the American dream for immigrants, personified through the pretty white woman (Elvira). It also discussed deeper real life trends about immigrant stereotyping through a dialogue between Tony and his mother. The only scene I truly feel replicates the original rather than a play on gangster films more generally is the iconic finale scene where Gina walks and indicates that Tony wants her. The remake of Scarface makes it clear that Tony wants Gina as she walks in with her bathrobe, whereas the original only makes it clear after Gina is dead. In the original, I remember wondering why Tony was spending so much time on the floor with Gina who was dying/dead when there were people outside actively shooting at him. However, in the remake, Tony spends minimal time on reflecting on her death and the scene is more so focused on violence and saving himself/his image (which is very obvious through the iconic “say hello to my little friend” before firing endlessly at anyone in his path). The original shows that Tony had literally lost everything when Gina died whereas the remake almost shows a slight hope of Tony keeping his reputation through fighting back, proving that he hadn’t lost everything until he was dead.
Brian De Palma’s Postmodern Scarface continues our conversation about the crisis of the Mafia movie, as highlighted in Bogue’s essay, by drawing inspiration from previous films to tell the excessive story of Tony Montana. This film adopts motifs from the 1932 Scarface but focuses on cocaine’s role in 1980s Miami. Both Tony Camonte and Tony Montana make a fortune through illegal activities, and their fascination with excess offers a critique of society. Additionally, similar to Muni’s use of an exaggerated Italian accent, Al Pacino takes on an over-the-top Cuban accent, but in De Palma’s version, this stereotype is explicitly challenged, with several characters criticizing Tony for making Cubans look bad. Establishing city shots of Chicago are replaced by Miami’s vibrant, excessive atmosphere. I appreciated how the overall Mise en Scène heightens this ambiance, with lighting and color playing significant roles in creating an intentional tone for the film. The weird, jealous sibling storyline returns with Tony’s strange obsession with his sister, and interestingly, Gina’s dialogue in the final scene exposes this dynamic before her violent death. De Palma highlights these moments of jealousy through extreme slow-motion close-up shots of Tony’s eyes set against a sudden thriller-like sound, serving as another example of how the mafia film combines different film genres. Al Pacino’s performance is especially noteworthy, embodying the mantra “the World Is Yours” and “push it to the limit,” taking every opportunity to make it to the top. Yet, even at the top, he feels he can’t trust anyone. From the beginning, we see Tony’s ambitious, relentless attitude, with power at the forefront of his life goals. His perception of success is revealed through his conversation with Manny, where he asserts that power is necessary to attract women. But at the end of the film, we learn that this type of power is destructive and leads Tony to his death.
The biggest difference between *Scarface* and the other movies we’ve looked at, like *Goodfellas* and *Donnie Brasco*, is how over-the-top it is. While those films feel more grounded and realistic, *Scarface* is all about excess—bigger action, crazier characters, and a main character who doesn’t care about anything except power and money.
In *Goodfellas* and *Donnie Brasco*, there’s a focus on relationships—brotherhood, trust, and betrayal. The characters struggle with their choices and the consequences of their actions. But in *Scarface*, Tony Montana doesn’t care about any of that. He’s not in it for loyalty or family; he’s in it for himself. His downfall isn’t slow and tragic like in *Goodfellas*, where Henry Hill loses everything bit by bit, or in *Donnie Brasco*, where Donnie is torn between two worlds. Instead, Tony’s fall is a total explosion—paranoia, violence, and self-destruction all at once.
At the end of the day, *Scarface* isn’t trying to be realistic or subtle. It’s flashy, intense, and dramatic, making it feel more like a wild ride than a deep character study. You don’t necessarily relate to Tony Montana—you just watch in awe as he goes all in and inevitably crashes and burns.The biggest difference between *Scarface* and the other movies we’ve looked at, like *Goodfellas* and *Donnie Brasco*, is how over-the-top it is. While those films feel more grounded and realistic, *Scarface* is all about excess—bigger action, crazier characters, and a main character who doesn’t care about anything except power and money.
In *Goodfellas* and *Donnie Brasco*, there’s a focus on relationships—brotherhood, trust, and betrayal. The characters struggle with their choices and the consequences of their actions. But in *Scarface*, Tony Montana doesn’t care about any of that. He’s not in it for loyalty or family; he’s in it for himself. His downfall isn’t slow and tragic like in *Goodfellas*, where Henry Hill loses everything bit by bit, or in *Donnie Brasco*, where Donnie is torn between two worlds. Instead, Tony’s fall is a total explosion—paranoia, violence, and self-destruction all at once.
At the end of the day, *Scarface* isn’t trying to be realistic or subtle. It’s flashy, intense, and dramatic, making it feel more like a wild ride than a deep character study. You don’t necessarily relate to Tony Montana—you just watch in awe as he goes all in and inevitably crashes and burns.
Lina Wertmüller, The Seduction of Mimi (1972) is a political satire. The film begins with Mimi, a Sicilian dockworker, losing his job after voting against the Mafia-backed candidate in an election. Looking for work, he moves to Turin where he becomes involved with the communist labor movement and starts an affair with a communist woman. Once Mimi returns to Sicily, he abandons these communist ideals he adopted and conforms to the traditional, patriarchal, and Mafia-controlled social structures present in the South. Even though he has been unfaithful himself, when Mimi learns his wife had an alleged affair resulting in a child that is not his, he aims to have a child with the partner of his wife’s suspected lover for revenge. I found it interesting how Wertmüller used Mimi’s contradictions–his outrage over his wife’s affair despite having one himself–to expose the absurdity of patriarchal honor in Sicilian culture. Rather than seeking any meaningful resolve, Mimi attempts to regain control in a hypocritical and petty way, showing how masculinity is performative. I thought this was an ironic way to critique Sicilian ideals. Theodoros Rakopoulos’ Two kings of mafia dependency: on making and unmaking mafia men, explores how dependency–on the Mafia or the state–is central to the male identity and social belonging for the Sicilian man. In the “inside the mafia” section, Rakopoulos describes how Cosa Nostra creates a homosocial “brotherhood” built on secrecy, loyalty, and mutual protection. The exclusion of women from the mafia, reinforces a system where male identity is constructed and validated. Interestingly, the concept of “male honor” is symbolically defined by women, as the perceived fidelity and control over women in a man’s family is fundamental to the mafia’s construction of power. I thought about The Seduction of Mimi, when considering this gendered structure. The film explores this exact point of how masculinity is tethered to women’s behavior. Mimi regards his honor as his ability to control the women in his life. His reaction to learning about his wife’s infidelity is not about emotional betrayal but rather his masculine pride and public image, mirroring the mafia mentality of women’s behavior serving as a reflection of a man’s honor. The revenge plan to impregnate the wife of his wife’s suspected lover, is a comedic representation of men reestablishing power and masculine dominance through control over women. Like Balduccio Di Maggio and Giovanni Brusca, Mimi is preoccupied by other men’s perception of his masculinity.
Since the film touches on many of the themes Rakopoulos explores around dependency within the mafia, I was particularly interested in how The Seduction of Mimi represents dependency on the state. How does Mimi’s movement between the leftist, state-oriented North (Turin) and the Mafia-dominated South (Sicily) reflect different kinds of political and social dependencies, and how do these shape his identity and actions?
An omerta of emotional emptiness. There seems to be an unspoken realization that upon achieving material success in the mafia world, one, despite having all the worldly desires, is truly empty. This begs the age-old question about the worth of success if one does not have anyone to share it with. In Scarface, in the dinner scene, we hear Tony say, “Is this it?.” Despite the luxurious food at his table and the women by his side, he feels emptiness. We have seen this pattern in other films, whether it’s Casino or Godfather Part III; there is a certain sting that comes with success–whether it’s violence, sadness, or betrayal. As Ronald Bogue underscores, in these films, there is a certain idea that appearances take precedence over meaningful relationships. In Donnie Brasco, we saw the titular character struggling with the codes of honor and attempting to find the balance between what’s right and what’s justice. Entering the mafia world with visions of grandeur and success corrodes the mind and soul, forcing its participants to forgo meaningful relationships. However, there always seems to be those willing to participate. Just like the code of silence, omerta, it seems as though there is a silence on not disclosing the true nature of “success” in the mafia world. The penance of success, one could say, aligns with this idea from the 1920s that “crime doesn’t pay.” Taking this phrase into a more figurative light, we can see that it is true. While crime may pay you in diamonds and jewels, you are empty in what truly matters. You can sit in your mansions and drive your cars, but when you turn to your right and see no one there, there is nothing more demoralizing and saddening. But, nonetheless, the cycle continues and one after another, eager and hungry individuals enter this trap, at their own fault, and learn the one truly painful, silent code of the mafia–loneliness.
I have no idea what I just watched. The best parts of this film were when Mimi was being attacked or crying like a baby. The Seduction of Mimi perfectly aligns with Two Kinds of Mafia Dependency, as it explores how Mimi’s honor and masculinity is fundamentally tied to his relationship with women, both in his desire to control them and in his contradictory dependence on their validation. Throughout the film, Mimi embodies the idea that to be a true mafia man, or even a true Sicilian man since he attempts to reject the mafia for a large portion of the film, his machismo is both defined by and deeply dismissive of women. He tries so hard throughout the whole movie to be a strong, powerful man (especially when he works in Sicily with the job the Mafia provided for him), but he acts like a wimp for most of the movie. Always crying or begging for attention in a really pathetic way that gave me the ick.
I though it was interesting that when he left Sicily, he adopted a freer, more progressive mindset, embracing Communist ideals and even a more egalitarian romantic dynamic. Yet, upon his return, he falls back into the mafia-driven structures he once tried to escape. Once again, pathetic and cannot hold his own ground and even enjoys the benefits the Mafia provides for him because it makes him feel more successful and more like a man.
What baffled me was how easily the women in his life entertained him again after they said he assaulted, betrayed, or disrespected them. Maybe it was a reflection of the times, or maybe it was meant to satirize the absurdity of these gender dynamics. His whole life revolves around women- his sheer hypocracy in having an affair. then feeling betrayed that his wife also had an affair, just to engage in another affair for revenge.
The whole time, he tries to prove that he is a strong man, but when in a new city, he walks in the opposite direction of everyone else, looks confused, does not know where to go. He plans for revenge by seducing then impregnating Amalia, but realized he was in over his head once she actually gave in. He tried to kill Rosalia, but could not because she agreed that she should be punished. The best part of the film was when his friend, wife, child, and younger brother (probably the only person that respected him as a man) left him at his betrayal of communism. Overall, this movie was really weird.
Wednesday March 26: The article “Two kinds of mafia dependency” is a very interesting look at the concept of dependency from the mafia or the state. As we have watched Mafia movies and discussed the themes and key elements of what makes a mafia movie unique, themes of the group are ever-present. In no mafia movie can an individual stand alone, but is instead supported by a group. However, this article explores the difference in dynamics between the support of a group within the mafia compared to the dynamics of a group supported by the state against the mafia. The key that ties all of the groups together while simultaneously being the catalos that destroys the various groups is the idea that knowledge is power. Those who hold the knowledge acquire the wealth and control of society. Within the mafia space, violence is used to get rid of knowledge and insure that the knowledge known is kept a secret. The more that is known, especially with regards to the mafia, the less power and the less influence it has. This article discusses this idea as it looks at the mafioso transitioning to the group of mafia members to the group of the state. The mafia lost its power because it lost its secrecy, its knowledge become commonplace. With the unraveling of mafia allegiance to state allegiance, this article explores the power that knowledge has on all groups from the state to the mafia, as no group would be affective without the knowledge that they all crave.
Lina Wertmüller’s Comedy/Drama film “The Seduction of Mimi” tells the story of Mimi, a dockworker from Scilily. After he votes against a Mafia leader in what was supposed to be a secret election, he loses his job and subsequently leaves his wife and moves to Turin in search of new work. Mimi enters a romantic relationship with a Communist activist and thus finds himself navigating two relationships while also scheming revenge on the corruption that caused such conflict in his life. I found the exploration and interplay of how societal corruption affects individual lives particularly interesting and engaging throughout the film. Theodoros Rakopoulos’s article “Two Kinds of Mafia Dependency: On Making and Unmaking Mafia Men,” focuses on two types of dependency: interpersonal dependency within the Mafia and dependency on the state. Throughout the film we see Mimi’s own dependencies – on his wife, lover from Turin, and the societal factors that influence his life choices. Reading this article, I wondered about the state’s role, and Mimi’s dependency on the state, and how it affected Mimi’s life throughout the film?
In addition, the consequences of betrayal were a theme central to both the film and the article. Rakopoulos discusses the idea of “dishonored violence,” detailing the extreme violence often used by rival parties. For example, the article discusses the feud between Santino Di Matteo and Brusca, caused by Di Matteo’s collaboration with police. In retaliation, Brusca kidnapped, and ultimately brutally murdered, Santino Di Matteo’s 11 year old son, Giuseppe Di Matteo. In addition to revenge the Mafia took against Mimi, the film also explores Mimi’s own revenge he inflicts on others. After finding out his wife Rosalia is pregnant with another man’s child, he attempts to rape and, ultimately successfully, seduce Amalia, the wife of the man who got Rosalia pregnant – they agree to convenience a child in revenge. How do audience members react to or try to reconcile with the extreme moral issues associated with betrayal and retaliation against betrayal?
While reading the article, I also wondered about how the film portrays masculinity, particularly in its relationship to violence and betrayal?
The Seduction of Mimi was definitely an interesting watch, but some parts were pretty tough to sit through, especially with how gender dynamics played out. The Italian soundtrack made it a little hard to follow, and even though I had the subtitles on, I found myself focusing more on the visuals and just trying to piece everything together through what was happening on screen.
Mimi as a character really stood out—he had such a bold and outgoing personality, especially for the time. But at the same time, his actions made it clear how deeply ingrained traditional masculinity was back then. Some scenes felt straight-up misogynistic, and it was hard not to notice how much sex in the film was catered toward male desire. It wasn’t just about relationships—it was about power, control, and ego. The way Mimi reacted to his wife’s affair compared to his own cheating just screamed double standards. He could justify everything he did, but the second she stepped outside the box, it was like a personal attack on his masculinity.
Even though the film had its comedic and satirical moments, there was an underlying discomfort in how gender roles played out. The movie definitely seemed to be commenting on the hypocrisy of men like Mimi, ones who see themselves as progressive but still fall into the same toxic patterns. The way women were treated, both by the characters and just in the framing of certain scenes, really highlighted how different expectations were for men and women back then. Some of it was frustrating to watch, but at the same time, it made a point about the kind of societal norms that still linger today.
I felt like the movie we were supposed to watch for today, The Seduction of Mimi, was kind of different from some of the other mafia movies we’ve watched due to the less violent nature of the film. Instead of focusing on organized crime directly, The Seduction of Mimi showed how mafia power operates in everyday life through politics and work. Mimi isn’t a mafioso, but is still caught in a world that is shaped by mafia influence. What stood out to me the most was how Mimi tries to sort of assert control but ends up getting played by the system at every turn anyways. His downfall feels more pathetic than tragic, which makes the movie both funny and kind of sad in a way. I thought the Rakopoulos reading paired really well with this movie as well. The author’s argument about the two kinds of mafia dependency, between mafia men and then between pentiti and the state, helped shed some light on Mimi’s situation. He’s constantly relying on institutions that claim to offer him power like the party, the union, even his own sense of masculinity, etc. However, those dependencies just seem to trap him more in a way. Like the mafia men in the article, he never really becomes independent but instead just shifts who he’s dependent on. This movie also ties back into some of the themes we saw in II Mafioso and even Salvatore Giuliano, especially the idea that the mafia operates less like a gang and more like an alternative system of power. In all these films, being a man means playing by certain rules and breaking those rules comes with consequences. Mimi tries to rebel, but in the end, he just becomes another version of what he was fighting against. Ultimately, I thought the film did a great job showing how personal choices are still shaped by larger systems of power.
This was a very interesting film that although I did not enjoy, I did learn a lot from. In the movie, Mimi’s journey shows how inescapable the mafia is as an organization. After voting against their candidate in an election that was supposed to be secret, the mafia forces Mimi to seek refuge in Turin. There, he ends up involved with the mafia, a strange mole consistency defining the mafia men for comedic purposes. Though the film focuses heavily on themes of adultery, through such, it exposes Mimi’s fragile masculinity; his incompetence in his relationships with females made him a very unlikable character for me (I particularly did not like the rape scene where Mimi tries to get his wife’s lover’s wife into bed, yet this did prove how violent and corrupt his mind had gotten). Mimi is constantly shown to be a figure of hypocrisy, and I found it very hard to root for him – it was much easier to get beside the ruthless killers of past films like Michael Corleone. Nonetheless, his journey was intriguing to watch. The film essentially ends where it started, yet this time, Mimi is one of the men telling people to vote for the mafia’s candidate. Rakopoulos’ writing shows how individuals come into the homosocial mafia for a number of societal, economic, and cultural pressures as opposed to a voluntary commitment. This is shown in the film’s final moments as Mimi chases Fior, screaming that he never wanted this in the first place, yet his changes in dependency led him to this circumstance. The fluctuating changes in social involvement proves Rakopoulos’ point as Mimi moves through trade unions, Communist party engagement, the mafia, and more, yet makes sure to always be associated with some group: “dependency does not wither; it shifts.”
Lina Wertmüller’s “The Seduction of Mimi” was an interesting, albeit slightly confusing examination on men’s relationship with the mafia. At first, when you introduced the film to us as being slightly inappropriate, I was expecting Mimi to be a woman who is seduced by a mafia man, but instead was faced with a film in which Mimi, a man, is seduced by the mafia. So much so, that he abandons his ideals and continuously aligns himself with the mafia even though he believes himself to be a communist. In this film, he repeatedly makes decisions and agreements that push him further and further into being involved with the mafia, like when he starts working in Turin and gets a job at a factory after claiming his wife is related to a famous mafioso, or when he took the blame for the death of Amilcare and then reaped the benefits after his release from prison. We continue to see how Mimi is seduced by the mafia, whether that be for protection, money, or respect. It seems that many of his run-ins with the mafia are unintentional on his part, reinforcing this idea of dependency, as explained in the Rakopoulos article. Mafia men become dependent on each other. Mimi becomes dependent on mafia men coming to his aid when he makes various mistakes and betrays the trust of others throughout the film, and consistently the mafia men are there for him in these situations. This makes him dependent on them, and forces him into the mafia which he previously was dead-set on working against.
The Seduction of Mimi and the article both explore how people navigate systems of power and social pressure, especially in relation to organized crime. One uses humor and personal conflict to show how individuals get caught between ideals and survival. The other looks at how people become tied to mafia structures through daily life and relationships, and how difficult it can be to leave those ties behind.
The film follows a man who wants to do the right thing but often fails to live up to his own values. He moves between political causes, romantic interests, and work situations, but always finds himself bending to the expectations around him. His actions reveal how people perform strength or loyalty to protect their status, and how quickly they abandon their beliefs when those beliefs become inconvenient.
The article builds on this idea by showing that mafia involvement is often less about dramatic crime and more about everyday connections. People are pulled in through family, jobs, and community ties. Leaving that world is not just about saying no. It requires undoing parts of who you are and how you have lived.
Taken together, the film and the article show how difficult it is to separate personal choices from the larger systems people are part of. They suggest that what looks like individual failure or hypocrisy is often shaped by the pressure to survive in a world where power operates quietly but forcefully.
I found this film to be very intriguing and exactly like Professor Dainotto explained it in class “very different than all the other films we have watched”. When I first began to watch it, I was not sure how to anticipate an “inappropriate” film of the 70s. It was only after watching it for a bit that I understood where this connotation came from. When reading the name, The Seduction of Mimi, I was anticipating a woman as the main character and seduction in the sexual sense of this woman. That could not have been farther from the reality of this film. I felt as though the plot of the film was rather progressive for its time. The metaphor in the title, referring to the Seduction of Mimi by the Mafia, was very well done. While watching, I couldn’t help comparing Mimi’s actions and values to those of other mafia movies we’ve seen. Mimi begins claiming to support the communist representative and refusing to vote for the mafia candidate, staying true to his beliefs. However, what I found most interesting was that most of the mafia movies we have watched, although not always well, the mafioso prioritize family. More specifically, their mafia family. Throughout this film, Mimi did everything but prioritize his families, only to find a new one – the mafia.
The Seduction of Mimi offers a satirical take on masculinity, politics, and the subtle ways mafia power operates beyond brute force. Unlike the glorified portrayals of the Italian mafia in other films, Wertmüller presents the mafia as a pervasive but invisible hand that shapes personal choices, career paths, and even romantic entanglements.
The protagonist, Mimi, is not a mafia man—at least not in the traditional sense. He begins as a working-class Sicilian trying to assert his independence by voting for the Communist candidate, only to find himself punished by an unspoken system of control. The mafia doesn’t break his legs or kill him; instead, they pull economic and social strings that ruin his job prospects and exile him from his home. The film shows how the mafia’s influence operates through everyday dependencies, aligning with Theodoros Rakopoulos’s concept of “mafia dependency.” As Rakopoulos writes, there are two kinds: the kind that makes mafia men, and the kind that unmakes them. Mimi’s journey embodies both.
In Turin, Mimi attempts to rebuild his life and ideology, but eventually compromises—taking a job protected by the very people he once opposed. His moral descent is gradual and often played for laughs, but it’s clear that he becomes complicit in the same structures he initially resisted. Rakopoulos’s idea that mafia power is embedded in networks of obligation and reciprocal dependence is evident throughout the film. Mimi doesn’t join the mafia, yet he becomes entangled in its logic: loyalty, silence, and self-preservation.
All in all, the film challenges viewers to rethink what mafia influence looks like. It’s not always blood and violence—sometimes it’s a job offer, a favor, or a silent punishment for stepping out of line.
The film Seduction of Mimi was at times confusing and strange to me, but at the end of the movie I think I can understand what the film was trying to get across. The main character, Mimi, started as a comrade and on the left side of the political spectrum. Throughout the movie he was influenced by women and the workforce to eventually be fully on the side of the mafia. It took him a very long time to realize thi, but he was slowly turning to the mafia’s side. Once he got a job in a factory, he had a taste of what it was like to be successful and have money. Once he had that taste in his mouth he just wanted to be more and more successful. The people that were offering him this success was the mafia. The point that I found very interesting in the film was the scene with one of the mafia bosses and Mimi where the mafia boss intentionally drops money on the ground. This says multiple things in my opinion. This says that the boss knows he has all of the control because he is the one with the money. Even if Mimi does not agree with him politically, he knows he needs the money so he has no choice other than to comply with him. The other part of it is the motion of Mimi kneeling down to pick up the money. This motion shows that he is the submissive one in this deal and he is kneeling down to his superior. The other part of the movie that shows that it is trying to be a mafia movie is all of the closeups. There are many close ups throughout the film that show different things especially with the mafia bosses when they zoom into their mole.
The Seduction of Mimi felt like a big departure from the mafia films we’ve watched thus far. Instead of focusing on the typical rise and fall of a powerful gangster, this film centers on a man who doesn’t really know what he wants, and who keeps making choices that backfire. Mimi isn’t someone to look up to or fear. He’s just insecure and stuck trying to prove his masculinity in a system that doesn’t reward honesty or weakness.
Unlike The Godfather or Scarface where characters chase power and status through violence and strategy, Mimi gets caught between political beliefs, social expectations, and his own ego. He’s not climbing a ladder; he’s just trying not to fall off it. One moment that stands out is when he tries to assert control by getting revenge on his wife, mirroring the toxic masculinity we’ve seen in other films, but here it’s pathetic rather than powerful.
The film uses comedy and irony to expose the everyday corruption and double standards in Southern Italian society. It’s not about mob wars or empires, but how the system wears people down and how men like Mimi try and fail to play by the rules. Compared to Goodfellas or American Gangster where the characters are sharper and more deliberate, Mimi is a mess. That makes him more frustrating, but I suppose more real.
For Mar 26th: The film this time initially kind of reminded me of I Cento Passi in that both main characters had their lives derailed after going against the mafia. But that’s where the similar vibe ended. While Peppino had a strong moral sense of justice, Mimi’s subsequent actions were self centered, driven by things such as his job, pride, and masculinity. He became more and more despicable, like the Mafia that he used to condemn. I really didn’t like the progression of this movie. In Theodoros Rakopoulos’s article, it further explored how the Mafia amplified traditional masculine norms and how these ideas were maintained in the Mafia through associated honor, violence, and patriarchal power. Mimi’s masculine identity was hurt when he failed in his political career, and so he clung onto the last bit of power that he could exert—male dominance—and “forced” a child with another woman for revenge. He went against his principles when pushed to the edge. Both the movie and the article showed how resistance is complicated and often compromised, especially when individuals are deeply involved in hierarchical or patriarchal systems. While Mimi wasn’t inherently evil, however, in his attempt to resist the system, he only got more affected by it. Before he even realized it, he was already clinging to a version of masculinity that the Mafia had defined for him. In the end, the article highlighted an interesting perspective on how the Mafia created an economic and moral dependency that I didn’t realize existed.
In a movie that is clearly somewhat satirical and comedic at times, there are still really important themes and messages in “The seduction of Mimi.” One of the topics that we have discussed throughout the year and that is ever present in the movie is the clash of vulture and politics. More specifically, it shows how the clash between personal honor and political power can lead to both comedic and devastating outcomes. Mimi finds himself caught between these two worlds: his newly awakened political consciousness and the oppressive weight of centuries-old notions of honor and values.
The Mafia’s pervasive influence on daily life lies at the heart of this clash. In Sicily, the Mafia’s subtle (and sometimes overt) presence dictates who can work, who must remain silent, and who faces punishment for breaking the code of loyalty. Within this environment, Mimi’s indignation over his wife’s infidelity is not just a personal betrayal; it becomes a matter of communal shame. His response is fueled by the same forces that compel him to compromise morally for survival.
Wertmüller’s satire also underscores the inescapable nature of Mafia power. Even when Mimi relocates to Turin, his struggle for dignity and independence is ultimately shaped by the looming threat of violence and corruption back home. Through humor and satire, Wertmüller reveals the deeper damage inflicted by a system where personal honor is constantly tested and real freedom remains elusive in the realm of mafia political power.
The film for March 26, “The Seduction of Mimi,” (1972), touches on a new take for the mafia: a satirization of the patriarchal, and more generally hierarchal, structure of the Mafia and the second-order impacts on the presentation of masculinity and politics for people within and adjacent to organized crime. With the main character, Mimi, we observe his insidious relationship with the Mafia. Initially, he is a man convinced of his beliefs as a proclaimed communist. So convinced, that even when told to vote for the Mafia, he decides to submit his ballot for the communist representative. This results in immediate dismissal from his job and Mimi fleeing the area. We contrast this certitude with the man we see at the film’s end–broken, having been slowly destroyed by incrementally compromising his morals. It started with taking the only job he could get: a construction job for the exact type of people he had purportedly opposed. Then, he leverages the hierarchal nature of the Mafia to find a cushier job. Finally, we observe a complete collapse of his prior moral code, as he buys into the form of masculinity the Mafia champions, and chooses to directly work for the Mafia after his release from jail. This story mirrors that of the article–we observe exactly how one could accommodate the ideals of the hegemonic group, growing reliant on the support it provides. Overall, the film and article provide an interesting new take on the Mafia, exhibiting its more subtle impacts on those within and outside of the organization.
The Seduction of Mimi felt like a shift from the mafia films we have seen so far. Rather than following the classic arc of rise and fall through power and violence, this film presents a protagonist who stumbles through a maze of social expectations, personal contradictions, and shifting ideologies. Mimi is not a mobster in the traditional sense, but he becomes caught in the same webs of obligation and performative masculinity that define many mafia narratives.
Mimi’s choices seem less rooted in belief than in reaction. After losing his job for voting against a mafia-backed candidate, he moves north and embraces Communist ideals, only to abandon them once back in Sicily. He is torn between different systems, each demanding a version of masculinity he struggles to uphold. His plan to get revenge on his wife by fathering a child with another woman illustrates this clearly. Rather than confronting emotional betrayal, he treats the situation as a challenge to his masculine pride, seeking to reassert control in a way that mirrors the patriarchal values he once rejected.
Rakopoulos’s article on mafia dependency helped contextualize this. While Mimi is not part of the mafia, his story reflects similar dynamics: dependency on systems of power, fear of social humiliation, and a desire to appear strong and in control. The mafia men in the article shift from mutual dependence within the organization to full reliance on the state. Mimi’s own trajectory, from worker to political dissenter to someone tangled in the very structures he once opposed, echoes this idea that dependency shapes not just survival but identity.
The Seduction of Mimi reminds me again of the disparity between American and Italian mafia movies. In Italian mafia movies, the mafia is much more an element of everyday life rather than a separate ecosystem that can be explored. In the case of Mimi, the mafia is only a device to help comment on masculinity and honor. The critique of masculinity in the movie is echoed in the article. Masculinity, loyalty, and honor are all inextricably linked and the mafia is a system that reflects and upholds those ideas. In the case of Mimi, he is constantly caught between the alternative style of thinking of socialism and the traditional style reflected by the mafia. This concept is also reflected in his relationships with his traditional wife and his lover who does not believe in marriage. While this critique is happening, there is another layer of men’s relationship with women and sexual desire. This front culminates in the double cuckolding. Also, the entire courtship of Amalia culminating in the scene in the bedroom has a striking and crazed energy. The way the bedroom scene is filmed with constant zooming, replays, and closeups with weird camera angles creates a comedic yet bizarre tone that makes the audience acutely aware of the camera. This choice reflects the crescendo of themes in the movie. Overall, I thought the movie was by far the strangest film of the class so far, and I’m still reflecting on Mimi and his actions.
I found the dynamic that the Rakopoulos article reveals about mafioso to be startlingly accurate, as it is a point of view that I had never considered before. Once a person is initiated into the Mafia, they lose their freedom. In other words, they are bound forever to the family. This is a concept that is very drawn out in several films—with the only exit from the Mafia often being in death. However, Rakopoulos offers a third option, which actually has been covered in this course’s content: witness protection. In the same way that join the Mafia ties a person to them, betraying the Mafia code of silence ties a person to the government. A person is never truly free, they are just enslaved by a new life. This theme comes up a lot in The Seduction of Mimi. Mimi is constantly tied between Mafia influences and the corrupt politics of the North. No matter where he goes, independence seems to be impossible. Whether or not this is the fault of the Mafia, society, or Mimi’s choices, the film leaves up to choice. The more Mimi tries to assert control over his life, the further entrapped he gets. I think that the film also briefly touches on masculinity, with those who leave the Mafia being seen as emasculated. I think that Goodfellas is a good example of this, where Henry’s supposed “family” tries to kill him and his wife. In many ways, this Mafia dependency is an inescapable cycle.
To be completely honest I didn’t enjoy this movie at all. I was so disgusted by the character and his patheticness that it was almost comical. If I had to describe this man in one word it would be that he is a crybaby, which is not something that is commonly used to describe someone in the mafia. This is a character that I believe was meant to be hated: forced his wife to have sex with him (and made her cry), cheated on his wife, basically attempted to assault/rape every women he pursued, and cried and manipulated women the entire time.
It was also interesting seeing the expectations of men and women in this movie. For one, he often said it was a marital duty for women to have sex with their husband. Also, there was the double standard of him being able to cheat, but once she did it was cause for murder. I also think there was no coincidence that the second mistress (the knitter) was a virgin, a trait that is traditionally very sought after.
However, mimi was not what should be described as a typical man, let alone a mafia man. He somewhat resembled the main character in I cento passi in that he was against the mafia, but still got protection because of his family relations (how he got out of getting killed the first time was to talk about his relations to the Liggio family). However, the character in this movie is weak and reliant so he ended up working for the Mafia while the main character in the other movie was strong and didn’t give in. Although mimi doesn’t show his weakness and vulnerability as much when he is around the mafioso he still does he just doesn’t cry in front of them or say things like “I am going to smother you in love.” So, it’s interesting to see a male character who has quite a few traditionally female traits.
Between “The Seduction of Mimi” and the article for this week, we are looking at the mafia and specifically men in the mafia in a much different way. The article highlights how society paints a picture of how a mafia man should act and who they should be, as well as how individuals can fight against the stereotype. Mimi has quite a journey in this film, and we can see the theme of “making mafia men” coming through with the expectations that he faces when he becomes entangled in the mafia system. This isn’t only apparent in his time with the mafia though, as throughout the entire movie, Mimi seems to be fighting against all of the norms that had been set for a man in the situation that he found himself in.
An important connection that I drew between the article and the film is how we can look at the mafia itself as a system of society. Mimi spends much of the movie trying to release himself from the grip of the mafia and the expectations that existed for him. I see this as an example for society as a whole and for people who find themselves in disadvantageous situations where they feel trapped by the norms and expectations of society. This reflects the uphill battle that people face when fighting against social structures, and the emotional toll that this fight can have on a person, as shown through Mimi’s perspective.
After having seen a few Italian-made films containing themes surrounding the mob, I think we can begin to delineate what the different traditions are in terms of depicting the crime organization. “The Seduction of Mimi” is an interesting intersection of what I think are several different ideas surrounding the mafia popularized more by Italian films than their American counterparts. For one, the Italian mafia is clearly more strongly and overtly politically aligned in these films than the American mafia. While the story in today’s movie is more of a comedy, it brings back recurrent themes about the mafia’s opposition to communist government and politicians (think “I cento passi”) and the agendas it would push (with force) in public affairs (reminiscent of the mafia in the military in “Salvatore Giuliano”). Of course, we’ve seen the American mafia interfere with politics and political figures, but never to such an extent that an individual would be targeted for their voting record. Additionally, the Italian mafia is presented as more consequential for the films’ protagonists. Mimi, like Nino Badalamenti in “Il mafioso”, attempts to escape far from the mafia-infested home he knows, ultimately being aided by his mafia connections, while winding up back where he started and more entrenched in the mafia’s game than before. The protagonist never “gets out” whereas in at least some Americanized stories, we see our protagonist overcoming their connections to the mafia whether that is by cutting ties (“Casino”), becoming an informant (“Goodfellas”), or simply a consequence of never being completely involved from the beginning (“Donnie Brasco”). “The Seduction of Mimi” provides a unique opportunity to see how the content of these different movies including politics, career, family, honor, and more all define the mafia movie which I think is becoming increasingly characterized along cultural lines between the American and Italian interpretations.
This is a movie unlike any other we’ve seen in my opinion. In terms of the plot, it seems unnecessarily dirty and dark but certainly has an Italian sense of humor. I think there were many phrases that didn’t translate over well which impacted the feel of the movie. I also thought that strangely enough it portrayed the mafia in a very realistic way. The mafia wasn’t some all powerful group of men that were hidden, but rather just ordinary looking men (although in this movie denoted by the three freckles on their right cheek). They were still killers, but they were able to make mistakes (like when they left Mimi in the truck when they were going to dump the body). I also thought that the movie was almost a commentary of the way northerners viewed southerners (but from the perspective of the southerners). Some examples of this is when Mimi is screaming at the end of the movie that they’re all cousins, probably a very funny way of just emphasizing how complicated and large families are in the south (and to southerners this would likely be very funny). Another example is Mimi’s raunchiness and his infidelity, absolutely despicable traits, but the way in which they were scripted were obviously meant to be comical. The last thing that I wanted to mention that I think was a plot point in the movie that was on purpose is that after Mimi is a father or still while Fiore is pregnant that he abandons his convictions with the communists, because he comes to realize its stupidity and if he sticks to his “ideals” his child will just grow up in poverty. In terms of its cinematography, I don’t know how else to say this but it felt like a very low budget movie or like a movie from the 30s or 20s. The movements were janky and disconnected in a way matching the perplexing story of the film. There were lots of moments where there would be a massive and rapid zoom in to show a reaction almost as if it were a skit. A notable example is at the end where it zooms in on the cardinal figure with the freckles on his cheek. That moment also really confused me because throughout the movie the relationship with religion was with imagery or crosses, but then all of a sudden there is a cardinal (it was just like a completely unexpected moment).
After watching The Seduction of Mimi and reading the article by Theodoros Rakopoulos, I understood how both works explored systems of power, masculinity, and dependency, albeit from different angles. For instance, in The Seduction of Mimi, Mimi is made and ruined by the systems of power. Mimi’s life is shaped by a constructive dependency in that he is bound to corrupt politics that guarantee the survival of the economy, and to gender norms that demand dominance. When he tries to assert independence, he is punished. Eventually, his ruin is demonstrated through a destructive dependency in that he attempts to escape the mafia system but instead gets more caught up in it. In Rakopoulos’s article, he creates a framework to help highlight the dynamics in Mimi’s story. With the concept of constructive and destructive dependency, he captures how Mimi is drawn into and held by networks run by the mafia and captures the collapse of his identity as his resistance to the system leads to his ruin.
I found it interesting how both works revealed how identity is constructed through social and political dependencies that are more often than not inescapable. Additionally, Mimi’s personal crises reflect the patterns that Rakopoulos observes where belonging is being tied down and attempting to be free is risking one’s death.
The Seduction of Mimi marks a sharp departure from the glamorized portrayals of the Mafia seen in more recent films, which often emphasize wealth, power, and a seductive criminal allure. Instead, Lina Wertmüller’s film harkens back to earlier depictions like Il Mafioso, reminding us of the Mafia’s insidious integration into everyday Italian life. The film paints a broader, more pervasive image of Mafia influence–one that touches politics, labor, and personal relationships.
By portraying the protagonist, Mimi, as a buffoon, Wertmüller cleverly emphasizes the Mafia’s power through contrast. Mimi manages to find relative success–not because of merit or intelligence, but through blind luck and Mafia ties. His incompetence becomes a satirical tool, highlighting the absurdity and danger of a system in which loyalty and corruption matter more than character or ability.
Mimi is far from a sympathetic figure. As noted in earlier posts, he is consistently despicable. He manipulates, assaults, and betrays nearly everyone in his life. He lacks integrity and moral conviction, adapting his beliefs to suit his immediate needs. In many ways, he resembles a darker version of Ferdinand from Pierrot le Fou–a foolish man stumbling through chaos of his own making. But unlike Ferdinand, Mimi is not simply self-destructive; he actively harms those around him.
Wertmüller uses Mimi not just to mock toxic masculinity and political hypocrisy, but also to critique a system that enables such a man to survive–and even thrive. Rather than romanticizing the Mafia, The Seduction of Mimi dismantles it with biting humor, exposing the moral rot that lies beneath its surface.
I believe Lina Wertmüller’s “The Seduction of Mimi” critiques the very essence of traditional masculinity often advocated for and glorified within the mafia through its innovative cinematographic techniques. One that stood out to me in particular is the camera’s tight close-ups reveal the character’s emotional unraveling. I was especially struck by how the handheld camera during the infidelity confrontation creates something of a visual juxtaposition to the facade of masculinity by highlighting his vulnerability. Additionally, turning these moments into comedy is particularly fitting to the theme of masculinity ultimately being a farce and a joke. I also noticed use of the wideshot which I understood to be a technique to literally and, I suppose, metaphorically marginalize the masculine, individual pretenses in the context of greater society. This is particularly evident when the camera pulls back during the voting, ultimately adding a sense of mockery to individual ambition. Furthermore, Mimi’s inability to assert himself in rebellion or complicitness makes individual ambition seem almost performative while the weight of social pressures are what ultimately pull you one way or the next.
Lina Wertmüller’s The Seduction of Mimi can be viewed as a sharp commentary on class struggle. Mimi, a working-class Sicilian caught between the mafia, corrupt labor politics, and his own pride, tries to navigate systems far more powerful than he is. His initial refusal of the mafia’s candidate in a local election sets off a chain of punishments that force him into exile, humiliation, and dependence. His arc shows how class and power dynamics trap individuals who try to assert agency within unequal structures.
This theme of class entrapment is apparent in Theodoros Rakopoulos’ article on mafia dependency. Rakopoulos shows how mafia men in San Giovanni are bound by mutual obligations that resemble both brotherhood and class solidarity. These men rise through the mafia’s ranks by forging interdependent ties. But when they betray the code of omerta and become state collaborators, they don’t gain true freedom because all they are doing is simply exchanging one form of dependence for another and are now tied to the state’s protection.
Both Mimi and Rakopoulos’ mafiosi confront systems that have the promise of empowerment and security but actually lead to subjugation. Whether it’s the mafia, the state, or the labor union, each institution maintains control by manipulating loyalty and dependency. And in both cases, attempts to resist or rise above one’s station are punished not just socially but morally, with accusations of cowardice, betrayal, or emasculation. Together, the film and article expose how class and masculinity reinforce each other in systems designed to keep people in their place.
The Seduction of Mimi felt quite unique compared to other mafia films we have watched recently. A lot of this is centered around Mimi, who is a super interesting character that I don’t think we are supposed to be made to like. Mimi’s character is a departure from what we have seen in other films when it comes to those who are tied to the mafia system. He is definitely not the stereotypical gangster, and he gets caught up between systems and becomes a shell of himself by trying to become dependent on this. To put it simply, Mimi is a pretty lame character. He is weak in many ways, struggles with social balances, and throughout the movie fights internally and externally with his identity. This personal crisis seen in Mimi is brought about by the integration of the mafia system into everyday life in this movie, which again is a theme here like seen in other films we have watched previously. The extent of this system, though, which expands very deeply into all levels of society, is more similar to what we have seen in Italian versus American mafia movies. What is interesting, though, is how far gone Mimi seems to be from the typical mafia man. He is certainly a manipulator, violent, and carries these dark and negative themes associated with mafia actions, but he lacks everything else such as a system of values. Rather, he is so caught up in control and power over his own life and trying to continuously see how he can assert his “masculinity.” This is definitely one of the harder characters to understand and piece together. Writing this, I felt like I learned even more about the film, and my initial reactions definitely involved confusion over what some of this all represented. One thing that is clear, though, is the connection between this film and the article for today. I think that even the title of this article does a great job of connecting to the character I have talked about and how the mafia system is interacted with in the film.
Roberta Torre’s Angela (2002) follows the story of Angela, the wife of mobster Saro, who plays an essential role in his criminal operations, particularly by assisting in drug smuggling. Though initially a loyal accomplice, Angela’s world shifts when she begins an affair with Masino, a younger member of Saro’s group. Their relationship, offering emotional intimacy and a sense of independence, stands in stark contrast to her emotionally barren marriage. As the affair deepens, Angela begins to question both her involvement in the mafia and her relationship with Saro. She starts withholding information from him and eventually collaborates with law enforcement, ultimately contributing to the collapse of his criminal network. The film ends on a somber and unresolved note: Angela is alone, abandoned by both Saro and Masino. Her personal and political betrayal, though a step toward freedom, leaves her isolated and unmoored. I found this ending particularly compelling because, despite Angela’s brave decision to assert her agency, she is not rewarded. Instead, she is left to face the consequences of defying a deeply patriarchal and violent system. The film powerfully conveys how difficult it is for women to assert autonomy in male-dominated structures like the mafia, where liberation often comes with the loss of the very systems that once sustained them.
Baris Cayli’s article, “Performance matters more than masculinity: Violence, gender dynamics and mafia women,” argues that status and inclusion in the mafia is less about gender and more about the performance of core values like loyalty, silence, and a capacity for violence. Within these hyper masculine spaces, some women manage to gain respect by adopting the behavioral codes that govern mafia life. Cayli discusses figures like Angela Russo, Sorella di Diego, and Maria Grazia Genova—Sicilian women who, by adhering to omertà, demonstrating loyalty to the family, and engaging with violence, became active participants in mafia operations, including managing extortion funds and overseeing drug trafficking.
While reading the article, I thought of Angela’s role in the film. She earns her place in Saro’s operations by performing the key mafia values of loyalty, discretion, and complicity in violence. Yet Angela’s story also reveals the limits of this performative inclusion. When she prioritizes her personal agency over the codes she once upheld, she effectively rejects the identity she built within the organization. Her downfall underscores the precariousness of a woman’s power in the mafia: while performance can earn respect, any deviation from the code results in exile. The film and Cayli’s argument together illuminate the tension between performance and identity, and the limits of female agency within the patriarchal system of the mafia.
Angela, crime drama directed by Roberta Torre, is centered around a woman navigating the male-dominated world of the Sicilian mafia. The film follows Angela, the wife of a mafia figure, who becomes more and more involved in her husband’s illicit drug trade. As she rises in influence, she enters into the dangerous affair of one of her husband’s associates which inevitably leads to betrayal and violence. The movie presents a stark, neo-realist portrayal of mafia life, emphasizing themes of power, gender roles, and the consequences of challenging traditional structures. Cayli’s article challenges the assumption that masculinity is the defining trait of power within the mafia. Instead he argues that performance, how individuals embody and enact power through violent or strategic acts, matter more than gender alone. This means that women in the mafia can hold significant influence if they were to successfully perform the behaviors and ruthlessness expected in organized crime such as the mafia. Both Angela and Cayli’s article explore the role of women in the mafia, particularly how they gain and maintain power. Angela’s character exemplifies Cayli’s argument, she isn’t powerful because she is masculine, she is powerful because she effectively “performs” the expectations of mafia life. However, her downfall does underscore the limits placed on women in this world, reinforcing the precariousness of female agency in organized crime. Overall, I really enjoyed this film because it finally gave us insight into the life of a woman character who is fueled by power instead of always seeing it from the eyes of a man.
I’m not sure what to think of the movie “Angela.” I liked the plot and thought the acting of the Angela character was quite good. But stylistically the directing of Torre and the cinematography of Cipri was a bit off-putting and made me feel uncomfortable viewing the movie.
• The lighting for most of the movie, especially the indoor scenes except the prison, was very dark. It made it hard to easily see what was happening and required paying extra attention. I found myself rewinding a few times to actually catch what was happening.
• The scenes in the backroom and upstairs of the shoe store were claustrophobic as the racks holding the shoes were high with very narrow aisles between them. Upstairs, the area where the men would meet around a small desk was wedged between the racks of shoes and a wall.
• Also, in some shots, the wrapping of the dead body in plastic and one of the love scenes between Angela and Masino in particular, they use one-take close-ups. Because of the close-ups and one-takes it is hard to see what is actually happening as the camera is almost out of focus as the depth of the shot changes without the camera re-focusing while the action is frenetic. Along with that in the body-wrapping shots, the lighting is dark, making it even harder to see what is happening though we know what is happening.
Thematically, the movie differs most from other mafia movies by having a woman so intricately involved in the everyday illicit business dealings. She’s not just a pretty accessory of the mafia men. However, Angela is relegated to the most basic of the dealings just being a packer and deliverer of the drugs. Whenever there were meetings to discuss the business, she was not included and instead would try to eavesdrop on what was happening.
We do see the usual themes of honor and omerta as Angela and other won’t leak details to the authorities. However, in this case, the authorities appear to be very competent in terms of their following Angela and of their surveillance techniques which bear fruit and lead to the successful prosecution of Saro. Everyone else is released which also shows that Saro held to omerta and didn’t rat out his associates.
The movie ends on a melancholy note with Angela continuing going to the port to meet up with Masino who never shows. While they don’t provide any indication of why he doesn’t show, I suspect that Saro had him killed as revenge (which he had vowed in his last meeting with Angela on a prison visit) for his affair with Angela.
I thought Angela (2002) presented a really unique portrayal of a mafioso’s wife because Angela is so involved in not only running the front business, but also actively participating in the drug trade. Her utility to the mafia does not hinge on her ability to act like a man, but rather her inconspicuousness as a woman. However, despite her high level of involvement in her husband’s drug trade, Angela is still shut out of business conversations between the men. Similarly to Kay in the Godfather trilogy, Angela literally and symbolically gets the door shut in her face, isolating her from the men’s world, the world where decisions are made. This isolation is emphasized by camera shots through windows and shelves, giving the audience the sensation of being in the outside looking in. The framing of the shot reminds us that, like Angela, we are simply a powerless viewer. Furthermore, the sense of isolation allows us to sympathize with Angela and understand her motivation for her affair with Masino. In my view, her affair was an expression of frustration toward living in a men’s world and her desire to have some sense of control over her life.
In the movie Angela, you can see, as Baris’s article points out, that men and women’s roles in the mafia are more similar than they are different: they both depend on performance. We saw this concept for men illustrated by Mimi’s performative masculinity, for example. Similarly, for Angela, she is accepted into the mafia business for her commitment to the drug trade and her adherence to the mafia code of loyalty. Though she may have been disloyal in her marriage, she remains loyal to the business even when threatened with tapes revealing her affair. In my opinion, this delineation of love and business portrays Angela as a real member of the mafia, rather than just a mafioso’s wife.
Angela felt stylistically and thematically distinct from many of the mafia films we’ve watched so far. One of the most striking features of the movie was its dark and moody atmosphere, created through an intentional use of chiaroscuro lighting. The constant play between light and shadow, especially in scenes set in dark alleys or when characters are viewed through windows, gave the film a sense of mystery and psychological intensity. The choice to often shine a harsh yellow light on Angela while leaving the background in near-complete darkness draws the viewer’s attention to her internal state, as well as to her physical presence as a woman in a traditionally male-dominated mafia world.
Unlike many other mafia films, Angela places a woman at the center of the narrative, which is a refreshing and subversive choice. Rather than simply being an accessory to male violence or power, Angela is shown navigating her own agency, complexity, and survival within a corrupt system. The film avoids glamorizing the mafia lifestyle, instead choosing to highlight the suffocating atmosphere that surrounds Angela. The absence of bright colors and the film’s gray-toned, muted palette underscore the bleakness of her situation and the emotional toll it takes.
The camera work also reflected her psychological state. There were frequent close-ups, often isolating Angela in the frame, which made it feel like we were being pulled into her world—one of suspicion, entrapment, and longing. There were also moments when the camera felt voyeuristic, peering at her through windows or mirrors, reinforcing the idea that Angela is constantly being watched and judged, both by her community and perhaps by the audience as well.
The film Angela was very different from many of the films we have seen thus far. This is the first film where the main character was a woman and the woman was directly involved in the mafia business. The characters in the movie were just as surprised as the viewer to see how involved Angela was in the business. Many of the characters were constantly calling attention to her and mentioning that they were uncomfortable with her being involved in the business. Some parts of the movie that brought attention to me was the lighting. The whole time the lighting was very dark and at times made it difficult to see what was going on. This brought a sense of premonition that something bad was going to happen in the movie or that there was going to be sorrow at some point. That could’ve been to deepen the emotions felt when the business and Angela’s relationship with her husband broke down. Another point of this movie that I didn’t quite understand was the music. There was one song that was repeated many times during the movie and I didn’t know if that was for a reason or not. I found the repetition of the same song very off-pudding and strange. In addition, there wasn’t the traditional violence that we normally see in traditional mafia movies. I wonder if this is because the movie is centered around a woman, so it tried to focus on elements of the mafia business outside of violence. I thought that the movie was a nice change from the normal mafia movie, however I thought the plot was a bit predictable and left something to be desired. It seemed clear from very early on in the film that Angela would eventually fall for Masino which would eventually tear the business apart.
This is the first mafia movie we’ve seen that is centered around a female protagonist who plays an active role in the mafia’s ‘business’ endeavors. As I would expect, there were moments when other men discussed their disapproval of her involvement in the organizaion’s operations. For instance, we see one scene in which the door is shut in Angela’s face, reminiscent of the same thing happening to Kay in the Godfather. However, unlike some of the other films we’ve seen, there is no physical violence committed against her. In contrast, Angela’s husband actually treats her fairly well and seems to really love her. As we saw in Casino, Angela seemed to desire something that she wasn’t getting from her marriage. In Casino, the luxurious lifestyle that Ace provided Ginger wasn’t enough for her, which led to the downfall of their relationship. In Angela, this was depicted differently, as Angela expresses feeling like she needs a change from what seems like a very monotonous, routine life working in the drug trade. Despite this difference, Saro, simlarly to Ace, can’t understand why she cheated on him, asking if the money wasn’t enough for her.
I found the movie’s depiction of the mafia to be not at all romanticized, but really the opposite. I think the montage that continues in a similar way throughout the movie shows the passage of time and the nature of the organization’s work in a fairly monotonous way. Overall, nothing too exciting happens, but rather, we see the gradual and simple development of Angela and Masino’s relationship in the context of the mafia, which is what ultimately leads to its tragic end.
I was curious about this film because it’s the first time we’ve seen a female lead, especially in the mafia genre. There’s so much to unpack about Angela’s role as a female in the mafia world as opposed to a male, but I was interested in our discussion of mafia dress and how Angela fit the part. In earlier films, we discussed the mafia dress code: brown or black hat, big cigar in the mouth, smooth-fitting blazer, gelled hair, sometimes a vest, and a general clean and suave look — at least the most generously portrayed ones. Angela embodied this in her way, instead of the previous female characters, whose bodies were gawked at and whose clothes mainly included dresses. Angela dresses in red and black, wears a trench coat, and pants. But she’s not overly masculine; she still wears a low-laying collar and does her hair up. However, I find the female translation of the mafia dress code fascinating. To contrast Angela with the trophy wives of the past, she dresses the part of a mafioso.
In some ways, this movie feels like an extension of Goodfellas because Karen starts as the unknowing wife in that film, then becomes deeply entrenched in the business. While Angela had much more awareness and involvement in the industry, I can see how previous mafia films laid the groundwork for a movie like Angela.
The filming quality was also interesting, as most shots are dark, and the music is melancholy.
Angela by Roberta Torre offers a starkly different lens on the mafia world compared to the other films we’ve seen in class this semester. Instead of focusing on the mob boss or “enforcer”, the film focuses on a woman in the system, Angela- the wife of a Palermo drug dealer, who begins to break away from the code of “omertà”. What makes Angela so striking is its emotional intimacy. It doesn’t glamorize the mafia lifestyle. It instead pulls us into Angela’s personal awakening, using close-ups, blurred focus, and a dark aesthetic to create a suffocating atmosphere.
Unlike the calculated rise of Michael Corleone or the brash ambition of Tony Montana, Angely moves cautiously and hesitantly. Her affair wish Masino isn’t just an act of rebellion, but the first time she takes control of her own life. Even that decision was shaped by fear, longing, and captivity. There’s a sense that no matter what she does, she’s still navigating a world that wasn’t built for her.
While other mafia movies focus on external conflict, Angela turns inward. It’s a story about loneliness, quiet resistance, and the cost of stepping out of her role. That makes it less explosive than some other movies, but just as haunting.
Although we have studied and discussed films that briefly acknowledge the role and perception of women in organized crime, Roberta Torre’s Angela gives a more focused account of the active role of the mafia wife. It was especially interesting to read about the real mafia women in Cayli’s paper, and I was surprised to learn how actively these women participated in organized crime and how they defied societal expectations. While the female figures in Godfather, Goodfellas, and Scarface observe business from behind the scenes, Angela helps with the transportation of cocaine and runs a shoe store as a cover. Yet, she is still excluded from the conversations behind closed doors- a scene reminiscent of the end of Godfather One. Despite this, she still follows the code of honor discussed in Cayli’s essay, even when threatened with the release of her phone calls with Masino. I also noticed how Torre has drawn on some of the Neorealist techniques we have seen in class, including stylistic lighting and unsteady camera movements that serve an interesting role in illuminating the secret life of a mafia wife and her unfolding love affair. Similar to Francesco Rossi’s Salvatore Giuliano, the camera follows and moves with the characters, creating a documentary-like feel and evoking a sense of mystery. I also found it interesting that Torre occasionally uses bright scenes that differ from the rest of the film, usually when Masino and Angela are together; the odd floating car scene at minute 45 specifically comes to mind as it deviates from the established style of the film. The mysterious quality is also conveyed through the use of interior/exterior framing that captures Angela leaving Masino’s apartment, along with the recurring date that illustrates the passing of time.
As expected, I found Angela to be very different from the other mafia films we have watched in this course. It is immediately apparent that Angela takes on a vastly different role from the other women in mafia films. Not only does she know what is going on with Saro’s criminal life, she is also an active participant in it. We see her packaging drugs and accepting cash payments on his behalf within the first few minutes of the film. This early depiction sets the tone for Angela’s complex character. She isn’t a passive bystander or a victim shielded from the violence and dealings of the Mafia world. Instead, she challenges the traditional portrayal of women in Mafia films and takes an active role in the criminal activity.
I thought some of the cinematography in this film was very interesting and also clearly different from other films. I’m curious if this is a specific technique. I noticed that there is a lot of use of blackness and obscuring of the main object from view. For example, at around 48 minutes, they are wrapping up a body with tape and plastic. You can clearly hear the tape and see parts of it, but it is also extremely dark, and the camera is moving quite a lot, almost as if it is attached to one of their hands. Another example of this extreme darkness / black background is at around 9:43, when the necklace is picked up, it almost shimmers in the darkness, but is barely seen.
“Angela” distinguishes itself in the mafia film genre by adopting a female perspective in a typically male-dominated narrative space. Unlike “The Godfather” or “Goodfellas” that position women somewhat peripherally, this film centers on a woman’s experience within mafia culture, revealing how patriarchal power structures specifically impact women who exist adjacent to organized crime. The film subverts genre conventions by focusing on emotional landscapes and passion rather than the details of organized crime and the typical hero/American Dream-themes that are ubiquitous in traditional mafia films. A key tool in accomplishing the fixation on the passion and intimacy of the film was the use of close shots.
Despite branching away from traditional mafia movies in such an explicit way the ultimate failure of Angela’s rebellion against the suffocation of the mafia reinforces its inescapability – a common theme in mafia films. I believe that by centering a woman’s perspective, “Angela” highlights aspects of crime culture that remain unexplored in male-centered narratives while offering a critique of both criminal power structures and the broader patriarchal society in which they exist.
Angela stood out to me as one of the more unique mafia films we have watched so far. For the first time, we follow a female protagonist not just adjacent to mafia life, but deeply involved in it. Angela is not just aware of her husband Saro’s business, she actively participates, transporting drugs and running their shoe store front. Yet despite her critical role, she remains excluded from the inner circle of decision making, a divide made literal in the film when doors are closed in her face. I found that visual motif especially striking, and it reminded me of The Godfather when Kay is shut out from Michael’s world.
Baris Cayli’s article helped me better understand Angela’s place in this world. Rather than viewing mafia power as something rooted in masculinity alone, Cayli argues that performance matters more. Whether man or woman, a person’s ability to uphold key values like loyalty, silence, and toughness determines their position in the mafia. Angela clearly performs these values well, earning her place in the business. Even when her affair with Masino threatens to expose her, she stays quiet and refuses to implicate others. Still, the film makes clear that her power is fragile. The moment Angela steps outside the expected role and prioritizes her own desire for independence, the world she helped sustain begins to fall apart.
I also thought the film’s aesthetic choices deepened its themes. The frequent use of dark lighting, close-up shots, and visual obstructions gave the movie a claustrophobic feel that mirrored Angela’s emotional state.
I found Gomorrah to be a stark departure from traditional mafia films, particularly in its rejection of the romanticized image of organized crime. Unlike Scarface or The Godfather, it offers no charismatic antihero (as we just recently mentioned on Monday: even Angela offered some semblance of a hero), no operatic rise and fall, but rather just a stable portrayal of crime as some inescapable force. Matteo Garrone’s documentary-style direction reinforces this realism, making the film feel more like a social critique than a conventional crime drama.
The narrative initially felt disorienting, but I came to appreciate how it underscores the pervasiveness of the syndicate in everyday life. There’s no Tony Montana figure to anchor the story, just ordinary people trapped in a brutal system. This lack of central focus made it harder to connect with the characters, but I understand that’s the point: crime here isn’t about individual ambition but an entire ‘industry’ of violence.
On the topic of violence, I also found those scenes themselves to be quick and unsettling, nothing like the stylized executions in say Scarface, for example. The economic angle of Gomorrah stood out to me as well. The film seems to emphasize how crime infiltrates legitimate industries, from fashion to waste management. It’s less about gangsters and more about an entire infrastructure of corruption, which reminded me of much of what Dickie said about viewing the mafia as a business instead of some complex family tree. Finally, the last thing I’d like to mention (or ask rather) is about the position of Naples as the central setting of the film. We spoke frequently earlier in the semester about the perception of Sicily as this mysterious island overtaken by organized crime, and now I wonder how this film was perceived culturally in Italy, as it is one of the only ones we have seen wherein the mafiosi come from a region outside of Sicily.
Gomorrah was a horrifically riveting film that connects five stories through the violence of organized crime. Through a more neo-realist depiction as discussed last lecture, combined with the end credits where the director included statistics of Camorra’s deadly impact, this documentary style further enforced that this film would not be glamorizing murder like many others. This was starkly contrasted by the two teens’ romanticized view of the mafia – it was interesting to see further how people wanted to base their behaviors off of criminals in the movies; the influence film has is truly inspiring, sometimes in the worst ways. I especially felt emotional during Toto’s scenes, seeing the youth being so easily manipulated into this inevitable life of pain. The scene where he talks with his lifelong friend, them arguing as they are on different sides of this war and thus one of them is going to kill the other, was really heart-breaking as it showed how innocent civilians are dragged into the mafia’s games. Gomorrah truly showed that people of all races, backgrounds, ages, and professions are victim to this industry of violence; I liked how the film displayed all aspects of the economy and daily life as being affected by organized crime from waste management to fashion. The mafia dictates the industries by controlling the people within them: “criminal groups are able not only to launder money successfully, but also to “launder” their people introducing them into the high finance world, to regulate the local market, as well as to plan access to public work contracts, and consequently to influence the development of the entire society”. This week’s reading was a great supplement to prove how the organized crime’s “conception of absolute power” came to fruition, killing anyone in their path who proved an obstacle or hinderance.
Angela’s role in the film reminds me of Kay in the Godfather Trilogy and Poor Little Pepina, serving as a moral anchor and example of the isolation and consequences of mafia participation. Much like Kay, Angela decides to no longer put up with the constant fear and pressure in her role as the storekeeper, the front for Saro’s illegal activities, and in her interrogation scene, she betrays her husband. Aside from her love affair with Massino, Angela felt this tension in her life, and she recognized the fragility (i.e., the police raid) of her world. Somewhat reminiscent of the theme of Kay having an abortion because she didn’t want to bring another child into the mafia world, Angela forcefully removes herself from this tumultuous lifestyle and achieves independence that she had previously not experienced. Moreover, I think her actions speak to the unexpected power of women in the mafia world. Not only can they serve as leaders and agents, and not just victims, they provide a lot of the heart and soul within the mafia world, which these mafia leaders often lose in their conquest for material success. Judith Butler says, “Gender is not something one is, but something one does,” and I think that in this situation, Angela is using her power in her femininity to achieve a better life for herself. She has the courage to betray her husband, acting almost gangster-like and extremely ruthless. Angela through her “peformance” (as Baris Cayli would describe it) shows her strength within this cultural system and proves that women do have a voice in this patriarchal enterprise. What’s more, it’s her power that leads to the ultimate downfall of her husband. Much like Michael in Godfather Part III, it is the death of Mary that cements his wake of suffering and his separation from Kay that symbolizes his legacy of isolation. The cost of meaningful relationships is what comes in the pursuit of material success, and it is often the women in these situations who are forced to deal with the consequences and, more times than not, are the true Achilles heel of these organizations.
Apr 2: Watching Gomorrah felt less like a movie and more like eavesdropping on a world where crime is the status quo. Matteo Garrone didn’t produce the usual mafia glam of suits and cigars. It’s just raw, everyday survival inside a system run by the Camorra. One scene that stuck with me was when Franco, a seemingly respectable businessman, calmly cuts a deal to illegally dump toxic waste. His assistant, Roberto, watched in horror as they ruined the land and risked lives—all for profit. There were no guns and no threats, just quiet corruption masked as business. It’s not loud or dramatic; it’s chilling because it felt real. These people aren’t cartoon villains. They’re just doing “business” in a world where morality’s been stripped away.
That moment hit even harder after reading Antonio Balsamo’s article on the evolution of the Sicilian Mafia. Balsamo explained how today’s crime syndicates aren’t just violent—they’re strategic, embedding themselves in sectors like waste management, construction, and finance. It’s not about shootouts anymore; it’s about contracts, connections, and staying invisible. The mafia has modernized, blending into the economy like any other corporation. And just like in the film, it’s often the innocent—kids, workers, entire communities—who pay the price.
Gomorrah and Balsamo both make it clear that organized crime isn’t just a criminal issue. It’s a social and economic system, thriving where the state fails to provide protection, opportunity, or justice.
Matteo Garrone’s 2008 crime/drama film “Gomorra” tells the story of the impoverished areas of Campania in juxtaposition with the Camorra crime organization that is very wealthy due to drug trafficking, corruption, and chemical waste. Throughout the film, some try to challenge the Camorra’s control, such as Ciro and Marco, by stealing weapons from the Camorras. Others try to survive, like the tailor Pasquale who tries to evade paying protected fees. The ending of the film is stark, as the characters realize there is no escaping the Camorra and the corruption that surrounds them – leaving both the characters and the audience with no hope. In my opinion, the film compellingly showed the tragic influence of the Mafia on everyday lives in a community deeply embedded in corruption. Throughout the film, I admired Matteo Garrone’s cinematography and how he used visual techniques to effectively portray the theme of hopelessness in this town – creating a realistic portrayal of what life was like in Compania. I also found it interesting how the film highlights the systemic corruption that is embedded in Compania, making me wonder how the city’s conditions allowed organized crime to continue. The film leaves audiences feeling hopeless about these larger societal forces at play.
In Antonio Balsamo’s article “Organised crime today: the evolution of the Sicilian mafia,” he discusses the Mafia as a form of economic power through the “Mafia shareholding company.” Balsamo talks about how the modern Sicilian Mafia infiltrates the economy, using businesses to launder money and control industries. Through invading businesses and public contracts, the Mafia are deeply connected to the economy. Similarly, “Gomorra” depicts the Mafia’s involvement in businesses, such as construction and waste management. Balsamo’s article highlights the evolution of the Sicilian mafia, transforming from an instrument of local government to an economic power and “instrument of the regulation of the economy” (373). The film depicts a similar evolution, with the Camorra expanding from traditional organized crime to involvement with legal businesses and the economy. In addition, both the article and “Gomorra” highlight the Mafia’s intersection with political powers. Further, the article talks about corrupt politicians and the film portrays politicians’ role in reinforcing the Camorra’s activities. How does the Mafia’s role in the economy and politics challenge or strengthen our views of traditional organized crime? How does it better help us understand the modern Mafia?
Gomorrah portrays the effects of the Cammora on Naples, particularly through 5 different storylines. Unlike the majority of the mafia films we have seen thus far, Gomorrah does not glamorize the mafia structure or actions in any way. There is no dramatic use of lighting or colors or music to dramatize the story–there are no visual or audio queues announcing the violence. Instead the film shows everything as is, which is raw, often dark or dirty settings, feeling particularly unstaged. The camera moves in a documentary style and feels almost unsteady at certain moments–placing the audience directly in the scene as bystanders. There is no hero’s arc but rather 5 stories of lives interrupted by the Camorra. The toxic waste, though less related to the Cammora, also represents the physical hopelessness for the area as the dumping of the waste is doing irreversible damage to the land. The weapons buried throughout the film also seem to represent the depth of the roots of the Cammora in Naples which is even more than what meets the eye. The lack of resolution to any of the plot lines in the films relay the helpless situation where no one is above the hold of the Cammora.
Matteo Garrone’s Gomorrah (2008) offers a look into the Camorra in Naples and brutal reality of its effects on everyday life. Unlike more stylized gangster films, it strips away glamor and focuses on how deeply organized crime has embedded itself into daily life—from kids playing at being gangsters to corrupt businessmen cutting deals. The film jumps between storylines with minimal connection, reinforcing the idea that the Camorra isn’t a single criminal mastermind but a decentralized system with influence everywhere.
I’ve also watched the newer Gomorrah TV show on HBO Max, where Ciro Di Marzio is the main character. While the series is more dramatic and character-driven than the film, both are based on Roberto Saviano’s investigative book Gomorrah. The show builds out more personal stories and rivalries in contrast to the film. Still, the violent, bleak world in which organized crime is interwoven into everyday life feels consistent with the film. Both versions show how criminal networks are woven into the fabric of society, not just operating on the outside.
Antonio Balsamo’s article, “Organised crime today: the evolution of the Sicilian mafia,” helps put this in perspective. He explains how Cosa Nostra has adapted over time, moving away from visible violence and toward integration with legitimate businesses. He introduces the idea of the “mafia shareholding company,” where legal and illegal operations become nearly indistinguishable. What stood out most to me is how modern organized crime operates less like a street gang and more like a multinational corporation, using front companies, laundering money, and manipulating public contracts. Garrone’s film and Balsamo’s article both challenge older ideas of mafia power. It’s not just about guns and territory anymore—it’s about economic control, social influence, and invisibility.
Gomorrah and the article both deal with the evolution of organized crime and how deeply it affects daily life. One shows this through a series of interwoven stories that capture the impact of criminal systems on ordinary people. The other explains how the mafia has changed over time, adapting to new economic and social realities while keeping its influence intact. Together, they suggest that organized crime is no longer limited to the margins of society but is part of how certain economies and communities function.
The film avoids glamorizing crime. It focuses on low-level players, children, and workers who are caught in systems that reward silence and loyalty over justice. Each character’s story shows how violence and fear shape their choices, often leaving them with no real options. The film’s tone is cold and observational, making it clear that the damage done by the criminal system is slow, quiet, and long-lasting.
The article explains that the mafia today is more flexible and less visible. It has moved from traditional violence and hierarchy toward business-like strategies, using front companies and financial systems to expand its reach. This shift makes it harder to detect and even harder to challenge, especially when it blends into legitimate markets.
Together, Gomorrah and the article reveal how organized crime thrives not just through violence but through its ability to adapt. They show that the system survives not because it is hidden, but because it becomes ordinary. That is what makes it so dangerous.
Matteo Garrone’s Gomorrah takes a very different approach from most of the mafia films we’ve watched so far. There’s no central antihero, no clear rise and fall, and definitely no glamour. Instead, the film presents the Camorra as a decentralized system of power—one that touches every aspect of daily life in Naples. The structure of the film reflects this: disconnected storylines that show how organized crime functions less like a family business and more like an economic engine in the way a system like an economy is.
What stood out to me was how Garrone uses realism to strip away any mafia-romanticism. The handheld camera work and muted color palette make the violence feel ordinary, even routine. There’s nothing dramatic about it—it just happens, and people move on. The young boys, Totò and Marco, treat weapons like toys. Roberto watches as his boss casually makes decisions that harm entire communities. These characters don’t make bold choices; they’re swept up in a system that offers no real way out.
The economic angle of the film also reminded me of what we’ve discussed about the mafia as a business. Franco, the waste manager, isn’t a gangster in the traditional sense, but he may be the most dangerous figure in the film. His deals are quiet, legal on the surface, and far-reaching in their impact.
Gomorrah isn’t interested in spectacle. It’s about how organized crime embeds itself into the fabric of society on an incredibly fundamental level.
I did not enjoy Gomorrah, primarily because I felt it didn’t have a fully developed plot like other mafia movies we have watched. There are notable tropes in mafia movies which make them a mafia movie, such as the trophy wife/girlfriend, the pursuit of a successful life, a battle between work and family, multiple murders, etc. but this movie didn’t have all these elements, and the ones it did incorporate weren’t to the same extreme. I think another thing that was interesting in this movie was the lighting and camera focus. I noticed that every time there was a violent act, the lighting was incredibly dark and you’d often only be able to see the violent act in shadows or increments. I first noticed this in the tanning bed scene where the dark lighting made it challenging for the viewer to identify what was happening. Maybe this was intentional and was an attempt to play off of earlier mafia movies, in which violence wasn’t shown but the sentiment was still there, but for a newer movie, this was a bit frustrating. I also found the camera angles a bit bizarre, particularly because it would be extremely focused on one person, and it blurred everything else out in the background. One scene I found interesting was during a dialogue between two people. Though two people were present in this scene, the viewer only saw the back of one person’s head and a blurry figure which resembled the other. This camera focus was repeated throughout the film, and I found it odd given it caused a feeling of dissociation from the film, as the viewer could never see what was fully going on.
Alternatively, I found Balsamo’s article quite interesting because it focused on the interconnectedness of the mafia and politics, primarily in Sicily. One particular quote which stuck with me throughout the reading is, “the mafia in Sicily is not dangerous or invincible in itself. It is dangerous and invincible because it is an instrument of local government.” The reading went on to explain how distinguishing actions of the mafia vs. that of the government were difficult to decipher, and mentioned the mafia’s reliance on the “pizzo” which almost served as a government form of taxes. With the mafia having control over the economy and government, Italian political systems were able to promote the success of the mafia and vice versa.
The beginning of this film was intense and very surprising. It was similar to the other mafia movies we have watched alluding to violence and killing for money. Along with similar films from previous classes, this film felt less like an orchestrated movie and more like I was a fly on the wall through their life. I found this film to be very raw. Many of the mafia movies we have watched in class have shown organized crime through their plots. This one however was very different and did not romanticize crime and violence in the same ways. This movie feels like you follow ordinary people rather than high-profile mafioso. The audio played a big role in the vibe of the film for me as well. Oftentimes it echoed and was loud and chaotic. The biggest aspect of the film that created meaning for me was the camera work. Similar to Angela from last class, the camera movement was quite over the top, to symbolize the real life perspective and movement. Ultimately, this film is a documentary style film that shows the modernization of Camorra and its brutal realities. Organizations such as Camorra and the mafia have a true impact on society and this is depicted well throughout the film.
By this point in the semester, many of the tropes and themes of the mafia movies were starting to feel repetitive or unimaginative. We have discussed the potential death of the mafia movie at a certain point. And while parts of Gomorrah allude to the mafia movies that preceded it, the story felt fresh. I’ve found the Italian mafia movies to be more compelling because of the nuance in their portrayal of the mafia. Rather than the hyper-glorification of the mafia lifestyle in movies like Casino and Scarface, the mafia in Italy is harsh and intertwined with the community. Gomorrah was a movie about a place. How that place enables the mafia to operate. Nothing is amazing, or glamorous, or extravagant. Even the money that is spread around feels like barely enough to subsist. The mafia is a parasite to the people, but there is no alternative. The movie covers every element of society from children, to mothers, to drugs, to semi-legal waste disposal companies. The clothing industry is not safe either. Ultimately, there is an almost hopeless tone to the movie with the only spark of hope coming from the man who refuses to participate in the waste disposal business. But even then, he has no prospects. He is even told to go make pizza as that is about all there is for him to do. Gomorrah covers the mafia as a reality rather than obsessing over a fetishism for money and power like movies out west in Hollywood.
I thought the structure of this movie interesting, but maybe a bit confusing. It did take looking up a plot summary after watching for me to fully understand the connections between the characters, but once I did I was able to better understand the plot. I was struck by each of the stories, but especially that of Marco and Ciro. They were so heavily influenced by the films that we’ve seen in this class that they emulated the behavior of the mafia bosses in these films. This causes them to become involved in nefarious behaviors including a robbery during a drug deal, finding and stealing stashed guns, and robbing a video arcade. The stolen guns gain more attention from a powerful mafia organization, and they are tricked into thinking they might have the opportunity to work with them, but instead find themselves walking towards their own death. This was very interesting to see, especially in the context of today’s media-focused world. People often emulate what they see on their phones or TVs, and that often ends in them being in extremely dangerous and deadly situations. Even in the non-deadly situations, many times repeating something someone saw in a movie or online can lead to broken friendships, bodily harm, and emotional damage. I thought this part of the film was a very poignant reminder of how much violence is glorified in media, and how it is important to be aware of the dangers of following something you see online.
After watching Matteo Garrone’s film Gomorrah and reading Antonio Balsamo’s article “Organised Crime Today: The Evolution of the Sicilian Mafia,” I understood that both provide insights into the influence and evolution of organized crime in Italy. Garrone’s film Gomorrah offers a more grounded portrayal of the Camorra’s grip on Neapolitan society through stories of individuals affected by its violence. Additionally, Gomorrah focuses on the Camorra as a power organization and highlights its presence in everyday life through a variety of methods such as extortion, youth recruitment, sweatshop labor, etc. It also emphasizes how ordinary lives are consumed by the violence and control of the mafia while removing any hint of romanticism of the mafia. On the other hand, Balsamo’s article analyzes the Sicilian mafia and details its historical development, globalization, and transformation. Balsamo highlights the Sicilian mafia’s shift from territorial control to a global crime organization in the article. He warns of the mafia as an enduring threat to democracy and economic development and even advocates for international cooperation to destroy it.
The film and the article reveal the evolving nature of Italian organized crime and its change from local coercion to global networks of economic strength. However, both underscore the need for cultural awareness and legal action to confront the mafia system.
In the article for class tomorrow, “Organised crime today: the evolution of the Sicilian mafia,” by Antonio Balsamo, we observe the shift in the Mafia as the world undergoes globalization. Where the Mafia was once a tool for local governance, it now had spread its tentacles into becoming a significant economic regulator. This shift can be seen as its transformation from being directly tied to political systems to being both a power and enterprise syndicate, seen within its extortion of businesses and infiltration of legal corporations through shareholder markets. This has led to an overlay of legal and illegal interests, providing more avenues for influence and more options for exerting power. Balsamo essentially highlights how the growth of this dual-headed monster poses a real threat to democracy in Italy and the free market on the whole. In “Gomorrah,” we are offered perspective on how this entrenchment in the Italian economy may impact a wide range of civilians under its jurisdiction. The film provides a non-nonsense look into how brutal this infiltration is, as we see the impact of the illicitly-run toxic waste disposal business on characters like Roberto. This dedication to realism without falling into the tropes and grandeur associated with prior Mafia films we have covered in this class serves to highlight the societal decay that Balsamo discussed in his article.
I thought it was interesting how there were many different plot lines in the movie. This movie didn’t have the typical mafia theme of family and staying together because of reliance on a code, and the separate plot lines made the whole organization seem even more separate than it already was. Additionally, the separate plot lines showed a comparison between people involved with the mafia in different ways. The most interesting contrast was between the young boy who wanted to join the mafia and the two boys who were content staying on their own. The young boy’s story showed the common theme of a mafia man rising in the ranks and having more responsibility. He even contributed in the murder of someone he didn’t want to get killed and knew was innocent simply because he was forced to by the Gomorrah. So, his story showed a more similar path to other mafia movies in this way and also because there seemed to be more of a code. It also resembled the stories of Goodfellas and The Public Enemy in that it was a path chosen young. The other plot line showed a stark difference from other mafia movies because it was all about disunity. The two kids were not rising in ranks per say, but their reputation grew and they met the end of most of the mafia men in the other movies that rose in the ranks – death. Additionally, they were very last minute, spontaneous, and reckless, where I feel like most other mafia movie display the mafia as making calculated and planned moves. This was altogether a very different mafia movie to what we have previously seen.
Gomorrah struck out to me within the genre of mafia films because it never dramatized violent scenes and embellished tropes. It almost felt like watching a documentary at times, with the scenes being unglamorous. The use of five different storylines to reveal information about Camorra. I think the indifference that the directorial style takes is reflective on the film’s theme of how deeply ingrained and normalized organized crime may be in real life. The use of storylines involving not just members of Camorra, but bystanders who encounter it in their life strengthens the idea that it permeates the lives of everybody. For example, the story of ToTò is told tragically as a young boy who is corrupted by Camorra. He hastily has to make life changing decisions and the mafia controls his life.
The Antonio Balsamo supports this claim by examining the ways in which the Silician mafia evolved from an informal system in local governments to a large and influence force. For example, while they do not murder people to achieve their goals, mafia families may legally control companies that support criminal activities. Balsamo even names real world examples like Provenzano as a representation of the mafia’s existing influence today. The way in which Gorromah’s film style perfectly captures the bluntness and the slyness in which the mafia today operates.
Matteo Garrone’s Gomorrah offers a chilling almost documentary-style image of organized crime in Italy, and showed the grim realities of the Neapolitan Camorra. But while Gomorrah exposes the visible brutality and social decay fostered by organized crime, Balsamo’s article discusses the evolving, and ruthless, face of the Sicilian mafia. Balsamo argues that the mafia has transformed from a violent, street-level syndicate into a sophisticated economic actor that infiltrates legitimate businesses, exerts control over public contracts, and launders both money and personnel through its “mafia shareholding companies.” This adaptation is not simply about survival, but is a reinvention that allows Cosa Nostra to operate as both an “enterprise syndicate” thriving in globalization and a “power syndicate” that extorts businesses under the guise of local governance.
Together, Gomorrah and Balsamo’s analysis offer a dual lens into the nature of Italian organized crime today. While Gomorrah is focuses on five storylines, Balsamo’s perspective is systemic and transnational. While Garrone dramatizes the social cost that crime syndicates impose on everyday life, Balsamo emphasizes the mafia’s quiet re-emergence through submersion tactics such as embedding itself invisibly in the economy with institutional support. This shift makes the mafia harder to detect and dismantle and demands new judicial strategies and legal action.
Gomorrah was a unique film and broke away from many of the stereotypes of other mafia movies we have explored so far. I thought the structure of this film was interesting because it did not seem to focus at all on the drama and violence often associated with the mafia in other movies. It was also interesting due to the fact that there was no single character to pinpoint in the film unlike what we have seen in the past to represent the principles of the mafia system. I thought Gomorrah did a very good job at taking a lot of the character away from the mafia intentionally and bringing it back to the “industry of violence” instead of the “family affair” idea. This film was also cut apart into many different plotlines which was definitely confusing at times until I realized what it was trying to accomplish. By doing this, the film was able to show the deep roots of the mafia at all different levels in society which is something we have definitely seen before. I liked the approach in Gomorrah to display the corruption created by the mafia through different characters and economic/social statuses. This movie also showed the mafia as more of a business than a family like I mentioned before. Gomorrah repeatedly highlights the violence that occurs as a way of executing business and the different industries the Camorra has embedded itself in. Although it confused me at times and it was not my favorite format of a mafia movie, I enjoyed Gomorrah and trying to connect it to the ideas from past films. I also thought that this film worked very well with Balsamo’s writing in showing the organization and function of the mafia as an industry.
Wednesday April 2: – In a similar fashion to our class discussion on Monday, within the movie, Gomorrah, there is a skillfully and very frequent use of close up shots and scenes of various characters as they navigate the harsh reality of life in Naples under the rule of Camorra crime syndicate. The use of frequent close up shots of the faces of characters leaves the audience feeling uncomfortable as it is a breach of characters personal space, causing the audience to develop a very personal and intimate perspective of the character. The deliberate use of close up shots also forces the audience to see the raw and unfiltered truths that these characters have to face living under organized crime. Unlike other camera shots or angles, the close up leaves the audience confused, stripping the power from the viewer, as the audience is left confused, receiving only snippets of information rather than the whole story. This disorientation, which causes the audience to loose the power as the viewer, puts the audience in the shoes of the characters being portrayed resulting in the feeling of a documentary style movie. In a similar vain to the close up shots being a defining characteristic of this film, I found the lighting/coloring of the film to be very telling. Shot in dark and tough lighting, the coloring of the film portrays a deeper meaning of the emotions of each character and the overall feeling of living under organized crime rule.
While many films romanticize the world of organized crime, Gomorrah gives us a stark look at the gritty reality of the Neapolitan Camorra. From the opening tanning salon scene, the film dives into the Camorra’s grip on everything from drugs to money laundering, showing how the mafia controls nearly every aspect of life in Naples.
Gomorrah distinctly shows that the mafia isn’t just about big-time criminals or flashy showdowns. Instead, it’s a system that infects everything. The movie moves from the top guys down to the low-level workers who get sucked into the game, offering a view of how the mafia operates on a much more personal level. It’s not just about violence, but also about control, money, and power that seeps into every corner of society, even the most innocent ones. Antonio Balsamo’s article, “Organised Crime Today: The Evolution of the Sicilian Mafia,” helps explain this shift in organized crime. Balsamo talks about how the mafia, particularly in Sicily, moved away from the traditional methods of violence and intimidation. Over time, they got smarter, integrating into the legitimate economy and finding new ways to make money. Gomorrah is a great example of this evolution. The movie shows a mafia that’s not hiding in the shadows anymore, and is embedded within the economic and political structure of the region.
The film certainly has its fair share of memorable moments, including outlandish violent scenes typical of mafia movies. Nevertheless, it also clearly comments how deeply rooted organized crime is in modern society: it can become a whole system that has its claws in everything.
For April 7th Class: The Irishman follows Frank Sheeran who retails the time of his life where he was a hitman for the Mafia and working under the mentorship of Russell Bufalino. Frank becomes very trusted and a close confidant to Jimmy Hoffa, the powerful and controversial leader of the Teamsters Union. As Hoffa’s power and defiance grows, so do the tensions between him and the Mafia, which ultimately lead to his mysterious disappearance. Unlike Scorsese’s other mob films such as Goodfellas and Casino, this movie is more reflective and mournful. It depicts and showcases the mobsters slowly fading into irrelevance, prison, and even lonely deaths. There isn’t any glamour and glitz, it’s just the emptiness and regret that follows the life of violence that these mobsters follow. We see Frank and his fellow peers grow old, the once powerful influence these men had fading as we see them go from commanding fear to then sitting in wheelchairs, barely remembered by the world. The film showcases how power can slip away, Scorsese shows that even the most powerful men can go from 100 to 0 and become irrelevant in the end. Frank spends the last years of his life regretful of the life he lived, alienated from his family, and the murder of Jimmy haunting him. The Mafia is usually showcased and seen as operating on a sense of permanence and invincibility, but The Irishman contradicts that notion by showing that time catches up to everyone and the world continues to move on, the Mafia isn’t immune to change, it too can fade and wither away just like anything else.
I found the film Gomorra to be intriguing due to the unique structure of the film (having five different plots at once) but was expecting some connection at the end or a greater sense of unity between them. When reading “Organized crime today: the evolution of the Sicilian mafia:, there were a few parts that stood out to me. Within section two, the importance of “invisibility” within the modern mafia structure was emphasized. The idea of almost flying under the radar is suggested to be crucial to their success. Within the movie, there is a large amount of secrecy among the groups. Deals are made in quiet spaces, hits are performed in more isolated areas, etc. However, the two characters that do not follow this pattern of behavior, are the two that meet an unfortunate ending and fail to retain their successes – Marco and Ciro. Another point I found interesting was in section 1: “Nowadays, the mafia in Sicily may appear dangerous or invulnerable because it has turned into an instrument of regulation of the economy”. While the characters in the film still had moments of violence, aggression, and brutality were not the sole factors contributing to who had the most power. These groups’ control over the clothing and waste management industries (seen through Pasquale and Roberto’s stories) demonstrated a newfound way of holding power.
One of the first things I took note of while watching “Gomorrah” was how jarring the traditional crime movie themes can be when presented in a modern setting. I think that in a lot of the films we have seen for class and in the discussions they have sparked we see the mafia through a profoundly historical lens. While the mafia and other similar crime organizations are historical in that their existences have endured through notable lengths of history, I think we neglect to consider how these organizations endure in their existence and their effects in certain sectors. As a class, I think we’ve done a wonderful job of recognizing how crime organizations continue to influence popular culture and the public sphere through the modern period, but we’ve never explicitly discusses how these organizations operate post-1990 really, and it was very interesting to see how this phenomenon continued into the 21st century with the Camorra in Naples. The movie does a wonderful job of immersion which contributes to the shock factor generated by the historical recency. For one, the movie, like other Italian-produced mafioso films, has a notable documentarian experience. The actors aren’t professionals, the cameras combined with sets and lighting effects do not produce the normal perfectionist soundstage feel, the locations present authentically to the story, and more. From the first scene, we can tell this is certainly not a documentary considering we see murders on film, but due to the comparatively close proximity the story has to modern day combined with the aforementioned documentary-like characteristics further combined with the factual evidence supplemented at the end of the film, we find ourselves fully immersed in the story, perhaps sometimes forgetting we’re watching a fictionalized retelling.
Honestly, I was confused for a lot of Gomorra. There were so many plot lines to follow, and it took a large portion of the movie to see any connection between them. I also didn’t find the movie to be particularly entertaining, maybe because it didn’t glamorize the mafia lifestyle or violence. The muted, drab color palette of the movie was interrupted only briefly by the blue lighting of the tanning beds, red lights of the strip club, or neon green of the factory. Other than this, the movie consisted of mostly grays and browns, with run down houses and crumbling concrete. While there were still gruesome and violent acts, they were not embellished or dramatic. Instead, they were swiftly carried out and often moved on from in seconds. This had the effect of portraying how ingrained in the culture the Comorra’s violence was. In all, the movie showed how deeply the roots of crime grew in Naples. Interestingly, it was missing any romantic subplot, and there was very little glamorization of mafia ideals. All of the focus was on profit, not themes like love or loyalty, demonstrating the shift in organized crime that Balsamo points out in the reading. They depend less on violence and more on infiltration of the economy. In the movie, violence is only a means of protecting the business and removing any threat to the mafia economy. Additionally, with such young kids and teens being involved in the mafia, it really shows how ingrained in the Neapolitan culture the mafia is, to the point where the teens are pretending to be Scarface. The mafia life is no longer hiding itself, as Balsamo writes, but become a sort of “shareholding company” which kids look up to.
Matteo Garrone’s Gomorrah does not offer the viewer a central character to follow or a satisfying narrative arc. Instead, it presents five loosely connected stories that reveal the deep roots of the Camorra in Neapolitan society. This fragmented storytelling feels intentional. It mimics the structure of the criminal networks themselves—dispersed, impersonal, and ever-present. We see how the violence touches everyone: a tailor, a waste management agent, a curious teenager, even children playing with guns.
What stands out to me most is how ordinary the violence becomes. Characters are killed not in moments of high drama but in alleys, parking lots, and construction sites. Garrone strips away the stylistic sheen we might expect from Mafia films. There is no romanticism here—just a slow, suffocating realism.
Antonio Balsamo’s article helps explain the shift we are seeing. He argues that the Mafia has evolved into a more business-oriented and decentralized force, with less reliance on traditional rituals or hierarchical loyalty. Gomorrah reflects that evolution. The Camorra shown here is not driven by honor codes but by profit and survival. Territory is more important than tradition. Connection and control matter more than legacy.
What I found especially effective was how Gomorrah made the system feel inescapable. Even the characters who seem disconnected from the violence—like the tailor trying to do honest work—end up trapped. The film shows us that the Mafia is no longer a world you enter; it is a world you are born into, one that surrounds you, whether you participate in it or not.
The very first thing I took note of when watching Gomorrah was how the language spoken was Napolitano and not Italian. Usually in Italian movies I can follow along, but here I was completely lost. The opening scene surprised me but also set the tone that your murderers could be people that you were friendly with: nobody is your friend in the Camorra. Another bizarre thing was how the music after the murders did not match the theme which added overall to the feeling of confusion in the opening. The camera work I noticed to be shaky, much like if it were a handheld camera and then it sometimes adopted a first-person view (which is something I haven’t noticed in any movies we’ve seen before). The scene I’m referencing is when the boys are looking out the window to see if the other people have left, the camera replaces the boy’s perspective for that shot. I think it also adds to the fact that the movie is being told through the eyes of these characters. More specifically, it is through the eyes of the tragic characters: Totò, Ciro, Pasquale and the two boys. Each of them are naïve or didn’t have much guidance and they know (however deep down inside) that the life of crime is wrong. Ciro is seen in the opening as cold and unhappy, but we later see that he is scared and sad. This was especially prevalent in the way he carried himself in the long take after his apparent departure from the Camorra. Pasquale has a beautiful character development as well where we see that he leaves the life of crime and he is satisfied with himself. With Totò, we learn from his mother that his father is a criminal and so ever since he’s been born he has to have dealt with seeing the crime so he grew up with it. Lastly with the boys, we see a youthful playfulness and how they reenact scarface or these movies or how they shoot guns off into the sunset, just trying to have fun, trying to enjoy a childhood that was likely robbed from them because how they grew up which is why they turned to the Camorra and became criminals. Lastly, I wanted to talk about Roberto. He was another tragic character who’s true intentions we learn only in the last few scenes. He was instrumental in the organization of the waste dumps and we see that his humanity shows in the end. With the scene with the peaches, he is told to dump them because the ground they came from is polluted, this makes him angry and leads him to leave. This also shows the hypocrisy of the other mafioso who throws away the peaches but doesn’t care about the fact that many people are eating those and they don’t have the luxury of throwing them away. The film does a beautiful job of taking a sordid topic and weaving it with positive notes, showing that it is possible to leave and that the world would be all the better for it.
I found Gomorrah to be an interesting addition to our canon of Mafia portrayals in cinema, as it shows the violent unavoidable reality of the organization within the context of contemporary Italy. In just the opening sequence, we are exposed to the intentionality of the Mafia as several cold-blooded murders are carried out in a tanning salon. The film follows several individual accounts united by the Camorra’s role as an instrument in what the reading calls the regulation of the economy. I hoped these stories would visually connect at the end, but instead, we are left with a closing text that reminds us that we are watching a movie based on true events. Similar to Angela, this film employs several neorealist techniques, including hand-held camera work and a series of long takes, that create a documentary aesthetic; it still felt like the director was pushing the boundaries of neorealism, as the camera movement felt overtly exaggerated and sometimes dizzying. Stylistically, the film features camera angles ranging from close-ups, wide shots, and high-angle shots resembling Brian De Palma’s Untouchables- It wouldn’t be surprising if the director took direct inspiration from De Palma as specific quotes from Scarface and having the World As Your Own are referenced by Marco and Circo. Interestingly, unlike Angela, several of these scenes are interrupted by sudden, unsuspected bursts of gun violence. I’m unsure if it was intentional, but sound played an immense role in the Mise en Scène; I found certain background noises, such as gunshots and dialogue to be extremely clear and pronounced.
As we have witnessed time and time again, the Irishman portrays the story of yet another tragic gangster, an isolated man broken by years of crude ambition and betrayal. Frank Sheeran begins his career by stealing and selling meat to local gangsters. As he is introduced into the Bufalino crime family, he hears the phrase “I Heard You Paint Houses,” a euphemism for killing–demonstrating how not only commonplace murder was but also how desensitized it became. Frank becomes introduced to Jimmy Hoffa and ultimately becomes his bodyguard and most trusted confidant. After Hoffa is arrested, his position is taken over by yet another gangster–showing the inevitable rise and fall from power and how these actors, despite their worship of violence as a means for material success, are always doomed for a tragic ending. Following his release from prison, Hoffa attempts to regain control of the Teamsters Union, but the Bufalino Family tells Frank that Hoffa “has to go.” In the Detroit House Scene, Frank murders Hoffa while simultaneously losing his relationship with his daughter, who shared a close bond with Hoffa. In the final scenes of the movie, Frank is old and alone and dies with only his demons in his mind. Frank witnessed the cost of power and the betrayal that comes along with it. Much like in The Godfather Part III, Michael witnesses the death of his daughter. This devastating protagonist has achieved what they thought success to be, only to discover that they have nothing and will die alone and hated. Like many of the other films we have watched, the Irishman is the penultimate culmination of regret, mortality, and betrayal and shows the corrupting nature of the mafia and the toll that evil takes on the mind and soul in a true and brutal way.
Watching The Irishman kind of hit me in a way I didn’t expect. I thought I was sitting down for a typical Scorsese mob film: fast-paced, intense, maybe even a little glamorized. But instead, it felt slow, sad, and honestly kind of haunting. By the end, I wasn’t thinking about the crimes or the politics but I was thinking about how empty Frank’s life became. That final scene where he asks the priest to leave the door open just a little? That really stuck with me. It was like he was still hoping for some kind of connection, even after everything he’d done.
One thing that stood out was how much the film is about loyalty, and how complicated that can be. Frank was loyal to Hoffa, to Bufalino, to the union but that loyalty didn’t do anything for him. In fact, it ruined his relationships with his family and left him totally alone.
Another big theme was aging and regret. The movie doesn’t just show the rise and fall but it shows the long, slow aftermath. Watching these guys get old, fade into irrelevance, and deal with the consequences of their choices felt really real. It was quiet and sad. It made me think about how easy it is to live without thinking about the future, and how scary it is to imagine ending up alone.
Like what others have mentioned, the Irishmen stands out from other mafia movies we’ve seen in class by slowing everything down, in a thematic (and literal) sense. Where other films we’ve explored have been rapid, explosive, gaudy, and unhinged, the Irishmen is measured, quiet, and almost contemplative. It doesn’t romanticize the mob lifestyle or even dramatize it. It instead focuses on memory, aging, and regret, topics that most other mafia movies don’t really acknowledge.
Stylistically, the movie shares classic Scorsese elements. Even those tools are used differently here, though. The violence is less stylized as if Scorsese wants to strip the mystique and show the emptiness beneath it all. The scene where Frank kills Jimmy Hoffa is long, awkward, and drained of emotion. The long takes and Scorsese’s usual visual style are still there, but they serve a different purpose. In earlier films, they created momentum. Here, they emphasize stillness and routine, especially in the nursing home scenes which are some of the more devastating moments in the mafia movies we’ve seen. Overall, the Irishmen feels like a reflection on the mafia genre itself, like it’s asking what all the violence and loyalty really amounted to in the end anyway.
I found The Irishman interesting but it was incredibly long and hard to fully pay attention to. It also wasn’t my favorite Scorsese movie. I think the progression of Scorsese movies have been quite interesting over the course of this semester. I often feel I can notice a Scorsese film when I see one, and though this film encapsulated similar features to other mafia films by Scorsese, it was also seemingly different. Some things I found similar were the integration of lighthearted music in somewhat serious moments. In this movie, one specific scene is when a character was pulling out of their driveway and someone opened fire at the car. While the viewer was concerned about the state of the driver, the music proved it wasn’t as serious, confusing the natural inclination of how the viewer typically feels when a possible murder is at stake. I’ve noticed that in other Scorsese movies, where it almost seems like Scorsese is trying to instill humor in a not-typically humorous situation, such as in Casino where Ginger is throwing poker chips all over the place and the music confuses the viewer as to what to think and how to feel. Likewise, this movie includes internal and external character dialogues, just like Goodfellas. However, one element that usually indicates a Scorsese movie is when obscene amounts of cocaine and alcohol are being consumed by the characters, correlating with their own downfall. In this movie, the character downfall wasn’t as obvious, but instead was Frank in the retirement home. It is interesting to see how this film stays true to Scorsese’s typical elements, while leaving out what I would consider the most impactful trope, the downfall of the protagonist.
Earlier in the course, I wrote a blog post discussing how the mafia movie plays with space and time, and that the distinction between “home” and “not home” for the mafioso represents their descent into mob life. I think “The Irishman” does this trope extremely well and is perhaps the first American mafia movie to make this tragic journey really apparent to the audience. From the start of the movie we see Frank embark on a journey, that being the journey from Philadelphia to Detroit. We see the map, we see his planned route, we see him loading up the car with bags and passengers. But this sequence is interrupted by the telling of his story which, to me, felt a little out of place at first. But upon continuing the film, I think we see how Frank’s home (Philadelphia) represents the old Frank, the true Frank, and while he tells the story of his descent into the mob, he is simultaneously driving further and further from that home and moving farther and farther away from his old self ultimately to land in Detroit and commit his “worst” crime. While the film is obviously profoundly American, I thought there were some elements that made clear reference back to the Italian tradition of the mafia movie, namely the travel and disorientation aspect. When Russell tells Frank to fly to Detroit to kill Hoffa, an event that total changes the tune of the film and Frank’s character, I was immediately reminded of the plane scene in “Il mafioso” and how the non-descript, disorienting journey marked Nino’s awakening about the true evils of the mafia and its expansive power, a realization mirrored in Frank when he sees that even his friends in the mob can and will go above him to get what they want regardless of what he says or who is in the way.
I am curious to know more about the childhood and upbringing of the influential leaders of the mafia organization. Especially the important ones that significantly transformed and affected the organization. I think whoever was able to integrate politics with mafia activities was a genius leader. Prior to reading the text, I didn’t really see how the mafia was involved politically. But now I can understand how the mafia and politicians can mutually benefit from each other. I wonder if the mafia leaders had the foresight themselves and came up with ideas such as infiltrating the sulfur mining industry, or if the political figures gave them tips to seize control. I am also curious as to how the cruel stories of the mafia came to be, since they began as an organization to protect landowners’ properties from the government. Was the brutality of the mafia only towards government agents, or to local and normal people as well? Did the local people ever want to revolt against the mafia too, since the mafia also collected fees for protection (it feels like a different form of exhorting money like the government with their high taxes)?
I also had a question about the fisiognomica that we learned about in class on Monday. Was the difference in skull shape between delinquents and “normal” people a real scientific finding, or something made up to make the people from Sicily seem more mysterious?
After Italy unified, its politics became a tangled mess—kind of like Palermo’s alleyways. The Right, a coalition of northern landowners, and the Left, backed by southern Sicily, were constantly at odds. The mafia was deeply a part of the chaos. Politicians relied on mafia bosses to control votes, and in turn, the mafia gained power.
In 1875, a Sicilian politician exposed how the government itself had worked with the mafia to stay in control. Parliament turned into a shouting match, and the Right’s “tough on crime” image fell apart. It was interesting to read about how power, corruption, and crime became part of the system—setting the stage for decades of mafia influence in Italy.
An intriguing parallel between Casa Nostra and The Godfather Part III lies in the role of women in mafia affairs. The Godfather Part III highlights pivotal female characters, such as Michael Corleone’s daughter, Mary, and his estranged wife, Kay. Michael’s struggle in the film centers on redeeming himself and his organization’s sins. He seeks to legitimize the Corleone legacy by shifting investments from criminal enterprises to a real estate company linked to the Catholic Church. This effort represents his desire for atonement while ensuring his family’s future. However, Kay challenges him, emphasizing how his choices have profoundly affected their children, the most valuable part of his legacy. Despite Michael’s efforts, the film’s climax delivers his ultimate punishment: the death of Mary, who is killed in an attempt on Michael’s life. Her death underscores the cost of his criminal past, reflecting the tragic consequences of his actions. In Casa Nostra, women similarly play a significant role in mafia dynamics. For instance, on page 29, the text describes the murder of women and children as dishonorable unless deemed necessary for survival. Mary’s death, while accidental, blurs this line, highlighting how innocents are often collateral damage in mafia conflicts, as seen with the death of Carollo. Although women were excluded from formal mafia membership, Casa Nostra notes their influence and prestige, often serving in supportive roles to their partners (pg. 31). Additionally, mafiosi frequently married sisters or daughters of other men of honor to strengthen alliances (pg. 31). This dynamic is reflected in the film through Mary’s romantic relationship with Vincent, who becomes the Corleone family’s future leader. Demonstrating the nuanced and powerful (and unofficial) role of women in the mafia, the film and the book highlight the often dangerous consequences of these women in their line of service as their partners’ moral compasses.
As the mafia expanded from its 1860s roots, it turned its focus toward new horizons: the United States of America. Throughout the first decade of the 20th century, hundreds of thousands of Sicilians streamed into the states and adapted organized crime to the urban nature of the states. As these new American-based sects of the Mafia matured, they became distinct from their Sicilian counterparts. This is expressed in the transition from protection rackets to profit generation during prohibition. In response, US law became more adept at responding to the organized crime presented by the Mafia, to which the Mafia responded by developing social and legal sectors.
Overall, I believe that the reading gave excellent insight into the story of the Mafia in America–how what began as a culturally Sicilian organization metamorphosed into an Italian-American one that blended traditions from both.
A few questions I have regarding the reading and Movie:
What role did the cinema (as well as public opinion) play in the development of the myth of the Mafia and how did these notions impact the behavior of these organizations?
How did these perceptions impact the expansion of the police state in America, in particular their capabilities in combating organized crime?
In what ways does The Godfather Part 2 continue the myth that the Mafia was solely a Sicilian import as opposed to a multicultural phenomenon?
One thing that I noticed between the two silent films was the caricaturization of the Italian and mafia characters. While some of the over-exaggeration of the characters is likely due to the nature of the silent film and need to convey the mafia associations without words, it also plays to the stereotypes recognized even in official and academic dictionaries, such as the Report of the Immigration Commission: Dictionary of Races of Peoples (1911). In reading the descriptions of the Italian and, more specifically, Sicilian immigrants, there was a large emphasis on the physical appearance of the defined race, including not just skin tone and dominant features, but also head shape, stature, and personality. This reading, paired with the prior discussion of physiognomy, illustrated how the biases against Sicilians were not just public perception, but also furthered by academics and government officials. The silent film Poor Little Peppina (1916) demonstrates these prejudices by portraying Peppina and her parents, who are of American heritage, as innocent victims of the mafia, while the Italians are shown as mafia members, or at least complicit with mafia business. Both films and readings, too, focus on the illiteracy of the Italian and Sicilian people, with the films showing poorly written letters by the Italian peasants and mafia members and the dictionary stating, “It is important to note that Italy is one of the most illiterate countries of Europe.” These examples illustrate the stereotype that the Italian immigrants were of a backwards upbringing, with a propensity for crime.
An interesting connection I saw in both short films, that was also mentioned in John Dickie’s books, is the relationship between the Mafia and alcohol. In both short films, as a sign of respect, partnership, and community, those within the mafia would drink together. However, the drinking went beyond building trust and community and became a way to grow their business. Whenever members of the Mafia were discussing past actions, creating a plan for the future, or celebrating a victory, alcohol was always shared. In both short films, it was intentional by the directors to include the use of alcohol. I also say a connection between the alcohol use and the bigger picture of the Mafia. As John Dickie said in his book, the prohibition within the United States led to the rise and power of the American Mafia. Prohibition created a huge demand for alcohol and the mafia exploited this by specializing in importing and distributing alcohol, eventually allowing the mafia to make huge profits. There is a strong link in Hollywood of the Mafia public perception between alcohol and crime shaping public perception of what the Mafia is and how they act. This reinforces the ideas of respect, crime, and a fast and dangerous life that the public viewed the Mafia as.
It is apparent that The Black Hand and the Mafia, though related, are far from the same entity despite some fundamental overlap as part of the world of crime. Considering the historical context of the growing prominence and influence of eugenics in America, I’m interested in knowing the complexity of the effects of the fear-mongering produced by both entities, especially within the context of race relations and eugenics. The films themselves serve as a reminder that Italians were on both ends of crime as both perpetrators and victims. Given the context expressed in “Report of the Immigration Commission: Dictionary of Races of Peoples” where the report portrayed Northern Italians as “ideal” immigrants while stereotyping Southern Italians as prone to criminality, poverty, and lacking education- I wonder if these prejudicial distinctions created, fueled, or added to internal tensions within Italian-American communities, or were these primarily external stereotypes that had little impact on how Italian immigrants viewed themselves and each other?
I have to admit, the two silent films we watched this week were probably the first I’ve seen in years. Still, I thoroughly enjoyed them and gained a newfound appreciation for how far mafia movies have evolved over time. Even with the gaps in technology and artistry compared to modern films, the foundational themes of family, violence, and honor were already present, clearly paving the way for the genre’s development. It is fair to say that Franzoli Soldo walked so Michael Corleone could run.
The accompanying readings were equally thought-provoking, especially regarding the perspectives on race during that time. It’s hard to imagine books or guides like those being written today—they would undoubtedly face immediate backlash, and rightfully so. However, they were valuable for understanding the historical and cultural factors that contributed to Sicily’s “culture of violence.” It’s a common pattern in regions under constant conquest: violence and combat often become ingrained as cultural virtues. A contemporary example can be seen in the Republic of Dagestan in Russia, where a similar history has shaped them into a mixed-martial arts and Olympic wrestling powerhouse.
I found a few points interesting in the assignments due for the 27th.
1. Immigration: First were the statistics from the Immigration Commission Report showing a high percentage of Italian immigration to the US came from Southern Italians and especially Sicilians. Though many of the southern immigrants came from rural areas, they landed in the urban area of New York and stayed there. Could this be to the sheer number of their people who came through New York creating a natural support system? Could it also be that that rural US at the time was made up of many small farms/farmers and they didn’t have the money to buy their own plots of lands to be agrarian as they were in their home country (vs working for large landowners back home). It was also interesting how they profiled the southern Italians and Sicilians as being “excitable, superstitious, and vengeful” with “little adaptability to highly organized society” and “their determination not to testify in court against an enemy (Omerta) but to insist on settling their wrongs after the manner of the vendetta.”
2. “Black Hand” & “Peppina”: Both movies focus on a kidnapping as a vendetta or show of force: The “Black Hand” coming through a protection racket – pay up $1000 (based on the prices shown for the meats in the shop, it would be about $35-40K in today’s dollars) or we take your daughter and blow up your shop; “Little Peppina” the kidnapping is instigated as a vendetta after the wealthy Mr. Torrens fires Soldo (a local mafia chief undercover in the Torrens home) when he is ratted out by Pietro (later killed by Soldo) for drinking the Torrens’ wine. This has a longer story over 18 years that has Peppina reunited with her family here in the US.
I found the descriptions of Northern and Southern Italy in the Dictionary on Races of People incredibly insightful, especially regarding how the South of Italy was perceived. The North was deemed “cool” and “capable of great progress,” while the South was seen as “revengeful,” “vivid in imagination,” and “highly imaginative.” It seemed to take characteristics that are true about the places (the North experienced somewhat political stability and there was little known about the South aside from stories to the Northerners) and build those into descriptions about what was true in these places (the North is a place of stability and level-headed people, while the South is full of unstable, vengeful people).
This made me wonder how the South perceived the North and if this dictionary was cultivated by a Southern author, whether the language used to describe the regions would be very different. Would the North be described as “uptight” or “elite?” And would writers in the South associate themselves with the mafia and the connotations of revenge that come with it? Or would their description of the Southern region be more bucolic?
To start off with the articles we had to read for this week, I thought it was really interesting how clear the divide was between the Southern and Northern Italians in the Dictionary of Races or Peoples book. They described how different they were in language, physique and character. This ties back to what we discussed previously in class when discussing Cavalleria Rusticana and how Southern Italy seemed like a vastly different world to Northern Italy. This shows that it was not only to the Italians themselves that there was a clear divide, but also to the Americans analyzing who immigrated and from where. Of the differences between the Italians I was particularly interested in the description of character. For example, they described South Italians as “excitable, impulsive, highly imaginative, [and] impracticable,” while Northern Italians were said to be “cool, deliberate, patient, practical, and as capable of great progress in the political and social organization of modern civilization.” All of the southern characteristics align with what I would believe the Mafia would have. This went a step further in the portion specifically about Sicily when they described them as vengeful.
In the short films, one thing I noticed was the difference between these films and Mafia movies today. In the films there was not the great depiction of violence that is what is so common in the current Mafia movies. In both short films the kidnapping was rather tame and only in the film titled Poor Little Peppina was there even a death (which was not vulgar at all). It shows the change in Popular Culture from the early 20th century until now. I am interested in getting a more in depth explanation about how the social standards and expectations of the time affect the depiction of the Mafia.
To what extent did the mafia’s presence in Southern Italy encourage immigration to the United States? The Dictionary of Races of Peoples looked at northern and southern Italy as different races due to differing language, physique, and character. Furthermore, Niceforo described Southern Italians as “excitable, impulsive, highly imaginative, and impracticable” (82). Niceforo also notes “all crimes and especially violent crimes, are several times more numerous among the South than the North Italians” (83). Though indirect, these characteristics allude to the mafia’s presence in Southern Italy. As learned in class, the mafia became intertwined with Italy’s agricultural industry monopolizing the land ownership (as we saw from Galati’s personal experiences when refusing to rent his land to the mafia). The Dictionary of Races of Peoples described how “most of the Italian immigration to the United States is recruited from the farming and the laboring classes of Italy” (82). In Poor Little Peppina, Lois was kidnapped from a wealthy family and forced into a farming family. Forced into an arranged marriage given the monetary benefit, she fled. Though the short film’s plot wasn’t primarily focused on immigration, it portrayed how the mafia’s control was intertwined with money, a prime incentive for immigration. The mafia targeted Mr. Torrens and kidnapped Lois to use as leverage for money. Furthermore, Lois’ adoptive family worked in the agricultural industry and they were poor, signifying the reality that the mafia had control over the farming industry and made the largest profit from the industry in comparison to farm workers. This then explains the dictionary’s indication that Italian immigration to the U.S. was larger than any other race, overall causing me to question the correlation between immigration out of Italy and the Mafia’s presence. Finally, I question if the mafia’s presence in Italy is still influencing immigration nowadays.
I wonder how the Italian mafia’s move to the United States shaped perceptions of Italian-American communities in urban areas. In the short film The Black Hand, the portrayal of criminals seemed to reinforce stereotypes of Italian Americans as dangerous, tied to organized crime, and resistant to fitting into American society. Similarly, the reading from The Passing of the Great Race, which explores historical conquests and the resulting shifts in language and racial identity, emphasizes how immigrant groups were often viewed as threats to the cultural and racial dominance of the Nordic population. This makes me curious whether the portrayal of the mafia in America, especially in films like The Black Hand, exacerbated these stereotypes and further complicated the process of assimilation for Italian-American communities.
Additionally, I’m curious about how the mafia adapted to American society. As discussed in class, a key difference was the shift from rural countrysides to densely populated urban centers. This likely forced the mafia to restructure, moving from local control to more organized systems suited to a competitive urban landscape. Cities also brought new challenges, greater visibility, interactions with other ethnic groups, and stricter law enforcement, which may have sped up their evolution into modern organized crime. This raises the question of whether these adaptations mirrored the broader struggles of Italian-American communities to balance cultural preservation with assimilation in an urbanizing society.
I found the short film, Black Hand, particularly interesting. I have never watched a silent film before so it was interesting to see the differences of how a story is told without the characters speaking in the film. The actors had very big reactions and facial expressions that seemed over-exaggerated to what we would see in current films today. That is most likely because a whole element of storytelling is gone so there needs to be a way to make up for that. In addition, it seemed different to modern films because all of the scenes almost felt like they were a play instead of a movie. The different scenes were all shot at the same camera angle for the entirety of the scene and there was not much variation in the set once the scene was underway. One of my big questions for this is when did switching camera angles become commonplace in cinema, because it did not seem like this was a technique that was used at the time. Additionally I thought it was interesting how the criminals were portrayed. Based on the film they seemed more like amateur criminals compared to the mafia bosses that we see in most mafia films. The criminals were tricked very easily and did not have a big elaborate plan to carry out their crime.
For Jan 29th class: There are intersections between the Public Enemy film and the reading about Synchronizing Race and Sound. I never took note of it previously when watching cinema, but after reading the article, I realized how powerful sound, especially the voice and way of speech, can reinforce stereotypes and ethnic divisions. In the article, Obscura discussed how synchronized sound reinforces existing power structures. This was seen in the movie where Tom and Matt spoke with an accent and their language was filled with uncouth slang. It instantly reinforced their backgrounds of poverty and belonging to the lower class. In contrast, Gwen, who spoke with a clear voice with proper grammar provided the impression of someone who is sophisticated and of higher class. These voiceover choices made by the producer came from common stereotypes stemming from history, only those who are high class could receive a good education, and can act and speak properly. The lower class would not have the resources for a proper education, and thus cannot speak and express themselves as clearly. This is a negative cycle of using stereotypes to familiarize the audience with the characters and having the audience assume things not explicitly shown. But this causes a dissonance when meeting people with accents in reality. I wonder if due to the popularity of mafia newspapers and films, did Italian Americans who had no association with the mafia face judgement and any unfair biased treatment from others?
Alice Maurice’s essay highlights the significance that sound has in film in both cultivating its story and characters and influencing its audience. While Maurice’s piece largely explores how sound can confirm African American stereotypes, this can be applied to Italian Americans as well. Due to “a dependence on popular expectations regarding authenticity, the alignment of internal and external characteristics, and the evidence of the senses”, Hollywood may overexaggerate characteristics of ethnic groups to subscribe to this idea that they are a foreign, separate entity. In The Public Enemy, the tough accents and casual slang speech support the Italian American stereotype that has been promoted in entertainment. The upper-class characters, from the fancy, well-spoken Gwen to the calm, crisp tone of the tailors, are marked by a clearer sound of voice; their speech is slower and more comprehensible than that of the lower-class, criminal Italian Americans. Beyond just the voice, the diegetic sound effects reinforce Maurice’s argument. Harsh, loud bangs, shots, slaps, and more enunciate the violence of the Italian Americans, contributing to the mafia stereotype of vicious, bloody crime. In silent film, it’s harder to convey this raw, even frightening level of violence. Now, however, in 1931, sound could be used to heighten the emotions evoked from the viewers that would manipulate them into believing these stereotypes. One question I had involved the following quote: “fetishization of the “black voice” reveals the way in which the discourses of race and sound were intertwined”. Recent films – even Zootopia whose mafia-mouse imitated Vito Corleone’s voice – prove Italian Americans can be “fetishized” by their accents in modern Hollywood. The question I wondered was whether the heavy Italian American accent would be pushed for in future mafia films or if they would try to combat the stereotypes by stripping characters of the “iconic” accent.
I thought the notes at the beginning and end of The Public Enemy served as interesting and explicit social commentary. The beginning note made it clear that, while the characters were fictional, the environment depicted existed in reality. The note at the end of the film states “the end of Tom Powers is the end of every hoodlum” and identifies the public enemy to be a conceptual problem, rather than an individual, that needs to be addressed by the public. Additionally, the film depicts the implications of Tom’s work on his friend Matt and his family, showing that ultimately Tom and everyone close to him suffers.
The film also seems to distinguish the gangsters through using very exaggerated accents and simplified language for characters such as Tom and Matt. This could be synesthesia–mentioned in Cinema at its Source–where they are playing to a certain image through the use of sound. Cinema at its Source also mentions that while the early talkies were revealing the ‘secret’ voices of actors to the public, there were already particular expectations for what the audience expected “black voices” to sound like. Given that The Public Enemy was made early in the history of talkies, I wonder if the directors were playing to certain public expectations for what gangsters would sound like.
Blog post for Wed 1/29:
In “Cinema at Its Source”: Synchronizing Race and Sound in the Early Talkies, Alice Maurice discusses how race and ethnicity served as constructs that synchronized “image, sound, and meaning” in early cinema. Maurice uses the term “synesthesia” to describe the role of early cinema in the representation and perception of race and draws on two definitions of the term to illustrate this point. One definition reads, “when the hearing of an external sound carries with it, by some arbitrary association of ideas, the seeing of some form or colour.” (pp. 33). This “arbitrary association of ideas” is the route by which early cinema shaped public perception (and stereotypes) of various races and ethnicities. The other definition of synesthesia that Maurice provides is “the ‘production, from a sense-impression of one kind, of an associated mental image of a sense-impression of another kind’” (pp. 32). When sound technology was introduced to cinema, it facilitated the public’s “arbitrary association of ideas” around race by providing and reinforcing a multi-sense (visual and auditory) mental picture of different racial and ethnic groups. Maurice focuses primarily on the role of African American performers and the “black voice” in early talkies. However, the concept of “synesthesia” driving the perception of racial identity in early talkies also extends to other ethnic and social groups.
For instance, early mafia movies played a role in constructing and solidifying the cultural perception of Italian-Americans in the U.S. during the early 20th century. I would argue that this even extends to the creation and public perception of the “mobster” persona. For most people, this cinematic representation was their only exposure to mafiosi and maybe even to Italian-Americans in general. In this way, cinema was not just reflecting societal views, but actively constructed the reality of how people perceived not only mobsters but even Italian identity as a whole. A question I have based on this is: to what extent did cinema actually shape public perception of what the mafia was (I’m not sure if I am overestimating its role), and how has this changed from the early 20th century to now?
I found the reading for this week to be really enlightening—especially concerning how sound can influence sense perception. Alice Maurice brings up the phenomenon of synesthesia, where one sense can lead to the spontaneous production of another sense (one example being people who see colors when listening to different music.) I always thought that this was really interesting in the context of art, however, Maurice applies a racial framework to this concept to illustrate black representation in early films. By embedding new sound technologies with minstrel roles, new perceptions of what authentic black culture was formed in America, fitting a stereotypical and unfaithful representation of race. Additionally, the fetishization of the African American voice resulted in an explosion of popularity for black performers, who were believed to be “ideally suited for the pictures.” After taking media theory last semester, this really reminded me of Marx’s ideas of commodity fetishism, in which people place a mystified sense of value in a commodity, distancing it from the labor which produced it. In the case of African American voices, a person’s likeness and identity is treated as a commodity for profit, distancing the actor or singer who produced the performance from the performance itself. I think that in the case of movies—specifically mafia movies—a similar framework can be applied. The Italian culture which inspired films such as the Black Hand or the Public Enemy is commodified and sold, distancing the original culture from the end product.
The Public Enemy was fascinating because of the nuanced dynamics. Firstly, the role of their mother as a helpless, wholesome older woman who was blind to the terrible actions of her younger son, Tommy, almost reminded me of a child attempting to unite her divorced parents. Jane, Paddy Ryan’s girl, shares some of these characteristics in a much weirder way. She takes advantage of Tommy’s intoxicated state while acting like his mother. I am curious why the filmmakers could not choose between the typical two roles of women in mafia films: mother (or family member) or lover for Jane and what her role even is in the movie?
Mike and Tommy also shared an interesting relationship of a brotherly feud. Mike is a great foil of Tommy, representing honor, nobility, and stereotypical family values. Tommy exemplifies the family values seen in a mafia man: they share how much they care about their families, but their actions prove otherwise. It is not as if mafia men are incapable of loving their families, instead, they reserve most of this loyalty for their chosen family (the mafia itself). Tommy and Paddy shared a father-son like relationship while Tommy and Matt were like brothers.
“Cinema at its Source” was also an enlightening read regarding the role of African Americans in the history of film. I was intrigued by the idea that a white audience would be drawn to the black voice because of a “dependence on popular expectations regarding authenticity, the alignment of internal and external characteristics, and the evidence of the senses” (Maurice 32). This relates to the Foreword/Endnote of film, which states that the film uses stereotypes regarding Italian Americans to highlight their preconceived notions of this “hoodlum” demographic. The film ends with a call to action to solve the problem of Italian Americans. As discussed in last class, African Americans followed by Italian Americans were considered the worst types of immigrants in the United States. Therefore, the film industry engaged in blackface for Black people and created mafia films regarding Italians to hyperbolize the worst ideas of these demographics.
I found the reading for this week to be really enlightening—especially concerning how sound can influence sense perception. Alice Maurice brings up the phenomenon of synesthesia, where one sense can lead to the spontaneous production of another sense (one example being people who see colors when listening to different music.) I always thought that this was really interesting in the context of art, however, Maurice applies a racial framework to this concept to illustrate black representation in early films. By embedding new sound technologies with minstrel roles, new perceptions of what authentic black culture was formed in America, fitting a stereotypical and unfaithful representation of race. Additionally, the fetishization of the African American voice resulted in an explosion of popularity for black performers, who were believed to be “ideally suited for the pictures.” After taking media theory last semester, this really reminded me of Marx’s ideas of commodity fetishism, in which people place a mystified sense of value in a commodity, distancing it from the labor which produced it. In the case of African American voices, a person’s likeness and identity is treated as a commodity for profit, distancing the actor or singer who produced the performance from the performance itself. I think that in the case of movies—specifically mafia movies—a similar framework can be applied. The Italian culture which inspired films such as the Black Hand or the Public Enemy is commodified and sold, distancing the original culture from the end product.
For class on Jan 29th: Initially before reading the piece about Synchronizing Sound and Race, the title reminded me of a class I took last semester that focused on film and the importance of sound and how much it adds to the deeper meanings of a film. Beforehand, I had never really cared to look too deeply, or even hear, how much certain artistic decisions can influence the perspective and opinion of the viewer. Now, after reading and watching the film, I’ve come to understand just how much sound matters. Sound is powerful in the sense that little things such as a voice, and or way of speaking, can play into certain harmful stereotypes. As well as reinforce stereotypes, sound can also be used as a tool to show the clear division between groups of people. We see this play out in the movie when you have certain characters like Matt or Tom who spoke more colloquially and never in proper sentences, and then Gwen who speaks more formally and polished off. The difference in the way these characters speak plays into their class division. The individuals who are in a lower class seem to speak in a way that showcases just how low class they are, they don’t speak formally, or in proper sentences. Meanwhile, the people who are apart of a higher class tend to speak more professionally and clear. This harsh distinction between two types of people created by sound in a film plays into the harmful cycle of racism and socioeconomic discrimination. By making a character in a lower class speak in a way that insinuates they are less than or not as educated as someone in a higher class is harmful and wrong. It’s incredibly important as a filmmaker to understand the significance behind every single choice you make. Little things such as the way you make someone speak or the way they’re dressed plays a big role in how they, and individuals like them outside of the film, are portrayed. My last thought was just how interesting it was in the reading when it was mentioned over and over again how the African American voice was perfect for film and sound. A quote in the reading that stood out to me was, “Movie magazines and trade papers raved about black actors in sound films in ways that kept them framed within stereotypes, racist anecdotes, and familiar characters and story settings” ( 50). African American actors were utilized in a way that kept them hidden behind the camera despite having such a large role in the film, they can be the voice and star of the show but only behind closed doors. This quote highlights how these actors were used and manipulated in ways that kept them in the bounds of being stereotyped and critiqued because of their race. The reading also mentions how a famous African American actor was able to stay famous and popular because he played into the harmful stereotypes that were cast on him. All in all, it was just shocking to see how important African American individuals were to the sound and production of a film yet barely ever received credit, and if they did, it wasn’t always friendly fire.
I read the article first and it caught me by surprise in that I do not usually think of the effects of sound. However, it is an extremely effective tool in amplifying culture stereotypes. Sound was able to use voices and accents to further demonstrate the difference between white characters and non-white characters. In doing this, a racial hierarchy was developed. I wonder if some of the racial discrimination challenges faced during that time were amplified during movies to further the culture industry. I also wonder if there were other ways filmmakers were able to implement race implications before the use of sound in movies. Public Enemy is interesting in the use of violence is extreme to me for its time period. I think smashing the grapefruit into Kitty’s face was the height of this violence. I think the usage of violence in this movie was a tactic used by the culture industry to gain attraction for the film. I see the usage of sound from Maurices sound in the accents of characters and it does heightened racial stereotypes and hierarchies as mentioned in the article.
The Public Enemy (1931) is a classic gangster film, and Tom Powers wouldn’t be half as compelling without sound. His voice is full of aggression making him appear more dangerous than any gunfight of which there are many in the movie. Alice Maurice’s Cinema at Its Source examines how early Hollywood marketed sound through race, often portraying Black voices as the most “authentic” for talkies. Studios played into stereotypes that Black performers were naturally suited for sound, using their voices to legitimize the new technology. This raises an interesting contrast. If Black voices were used to prove sound’s authenticity, what does it mean that gangster films relied on a rough, fast-talking white antihero like Cagney? Cagney’s voice became the blueprint for these types of films. Did the rise of the mafia films depend on sound in the same way Hollywood used race to sell talkies? And how does sound influence our perception of these criminal figures on screen? These questions could start a great discussion on how race, voice, and genre shaped early Hollywood, particularly within this genre.
One thing I noticed while watching The Public Enemy (1931) was the continued narrative of the mafia’s evolution and how organized crime adapted from its Sicilian countryside roots to American urban centers. Unlike the traditional, more “honor-bound” mafia we saw in The Godfather, The Public Enemy focuses on the more sort of opportunistic crime wave that emerged during the prohibition era in the United States, portraying a world where power is taken, not inherited.
I thought one of the more interesting aspects of the film was how it also captured the economic and social opportunity that allowed organized crime, like the mafia, to flourish. In class we talked about the mafia’s origins and the emphasis on its early role in protecting landowners from government interference in Sicily, but in America, the mafia transformed into an enterprise capitalizing on illicit markets. The Public Enemy kind of displays this shift. For example, Tom Powers and Matt Doyle don’t really follow a strict moral code or adhere to a familial structure like the Corleones, but instead exploit the chaotic urban environment of Chicago to build their criminal empire.
This transformation also kind of tied into the reading with Alice Maurice’s article on synchronized sound in early cinema. Maurice highlighted how synchronized dialogue reinforced ethnic stereotypes, and we see this in The Public Enemy. Tom and Matt’s heavy accents, slang-filled speech, and aggressive mannerisms mark them as products of a rough, immigrant-heavy working-class world. Meanwhile, Gwen’s refined speech sets her apart, reinforcing social class distinctions. We haven’t really touched on this in class but the sort of perception or stereotype of Italian Americans as criminals was shaped in part by films like this one.
Both the film “Public Enemy” and the document “Cinema at Its Source” have reminded me in many ways of our discussions this week on the evolution of the Mafia and its portrayal in movies. More specifically, they both discuss the question of identity and how cinematic choices can affect its portrayal.
The “Public Enemy” uses violence and loud sounds to shape its depiction of the criminal lifestyle. James Cagney’s Tom Powers is not just a criminal but a product of his environment, with his Irish identity shaping his rise and fall. Also, the film’s use of sound—gunfire, fast-paced dialogue, and moments of chilling silence—heightens the sense of drama. It glorifies crime and plays up the baroqueness of crime for the film. It also plays into the trope we have discussed as the Mafia figure as both an outsider and an anti-hero, setting a precedent for later mob films.
Meanwhile, Cinema at Its Source explores how early sound films constructed identity through race rather than crime. While gangster films used ethnicity to define organized crime, Black performers were positioned as proof of sound technology’s success. Movies like Hallelujah! (1929) marketed African American voices as inherently suited for sound, reinforcing racialized ideas while limiting their narrative roles.
Both works reveal how Hollywood used cinematic techniques to reinforce certain identities—glorifying the Mafia as a cultural fixture while reducing Black performers to tools of the medium. In both cases, film was not just entertainment but a means of shaping who was heard and how they were seen.
Reading the assigned article after watching “The Public Enemy” gave a lot of context to why the movie had such a large influence on Hollywood, as it was released just four years after the first movie length film with sound. The article focuses on race, specifically the “black voice” that supposedly enhanced the authenticity of the film for viewers. I find it interesting that “The Public Enemy” also took advantage of the new sound technology to draw audiences into a mafia film with “authentic” sounds from a violent world. Audiences have always been interested in the world of crime, especially the mafia. I’ve always held the opinion that violent films have been attractive to audiences because they’re the closest that many people will ever get to that kind of extreme violence. The movie really used that fascination along with the new sound tech to create a film on a topic that many people were drawn to, and then enhanced it with “authentic” violent sounds that brought the film to life more than any mafia story before it. With all of that in mind, I’m not surprised that this movie was as it successful as it was.
As illustrated by Alice Maurice, a common strategy during the early sound era was using black artists to promote sound films and also to sell black performers through the medium of sound cinema. Filmmakers would leverage black performers in order to garner larger, and predominantly white, audiences. This strategy was not only opportunistic, but also rooted in racial biases surrounding sound, race, and on-screen representation. I found the topic of synesthesia that was discussed in the reading particularly interesting: Maurice used the concept to interpret how the link between “black voices” and sound were rooted in racial stereotypes. Further, Maurice discusses how “the black voice” could be almost like a ‘remedy’ for new cinema’s technical difficulties, emphasizing this idea of synesthesia in the perception of race. The reading argues that the introduction of synchronized sound highlighted existing power structures. Throughout William Wellman’s 1931 film The Public Enemy, I paid close attention to the use of sounds and voices and found that it was often used to establish hierarchy: Tom and Matt’s accent and choice of words implied their lack of wealth, whereas Gwen’s grammar and accent implied her belonging to the upper class. As discussed by Maurice, the Hollywood film industry perpetuated existing stereotypes, which can be seen in The Public Enemies’ use of stereotypes associated with poorer education and the lower class through sound.
In addition, I paid close attention to the use of montage in Public Enemy, and thought of montages as “the collision of independent shots” that are essential to the story. The montage depicting the gang breaking out in war reflected this – cutting from Gwen to newspaper articles, horse stables, and ultimately a gang fight, painted a vivid story.
How does the introduction of synchronized sound perpetuate pre existing racial prejudices? How did films mask these racial stereotypes?
What are the other ways in which montages are utilized in and essential to the film’s plot?
For class on 1/29:
The article by Alice Maurice explains how introducing sound technology into cinema resulted in new representations and reinforcements of races, cultures, etc. The use of sound through voices/accents and music especially supported this idea, and the article looked at this through the lens of race often. These ideas were so important to understand when watching The Public Enemy. In this film, we see how sound is able to lead to characterization by the way characters speak. Differing accents, the use of slang, and the clarity of language were all sounds used in this film to create a structure of power between the lower class in poverty and the upper class. These sounds are used as differentiating factors to distinguish the upstanding citizen from the stereotypical ethnic gang member. The Public Enemy also uses music very well to continue this theme and build suspense, which is an element clearly seen in future mafia movies. Slang, heavy accents, and super quick speaking from the stereotypical characters also certainly build a foundation for the mafia movies of the future. We have already seen these elements when watching movies like The Godfather (2,3), and it is really interesting to understand how this came to be in cinema.
Questions: How well did these elements of cinema reflect the societal views of the time of groups such as Italian Americans? Do you think that the sense of sound can oftentimes be the most important to address in cinema – even outside of the genre we are exploring?
Wallace McCutcheon’s Black Hand: The Story of a Recent Occurrence in the Italian Quarters of New York (1906) reflects early 20th-century American anxieties surrounding Italian immigration. The film reinforces prevailing narratives that linked Italian immigrants—particularly Sicilians—to organized crime, aligning with Madison Grant’s The Passing of the Great Race (1916) and the Report of the Immigration Commission: Dictionary of Races of Peoples (1911). Both texts framed Southern Italians as inherently violent and resistant to assimilation, contributing to the era’s broader racial hierarchies.
Grant warns of Southern Europeans “infiltrating” American society, associating them with crime and moral corruption. Similarly, the Report of the Immigration Commission portrays Southern Italians as predisposed to criminal behavior, citing a history of “secret societies and vendettas.” Black Hand visually reinforces these fears, depicting Italian neighborhoods as lawless spaces and positioning Italian immigrants as an internal threat rather than part of American society.
By racializing crime, Black Hand legitimizes nativist concerns and reinforces the belief that certain ethnic groups—especially Southern Italians—were unassimilable. The film played a role in shaping public perception, solidifying racialized fears that fueled early 20th-century anti-immigrant sentiment and restrictive immigration policies.
How does the connection between Black Hand and early 20th-century racial discourse illustrate the intersection of entertainment, politics, and xenophobia in American culture? In what ways did such portrayals contribute to the justification of exclusionary policies, particularly restrictive immigration laws?
The discussion of sound as a means to portray and exacerbate stereotypes in the article about Synchronizing Race and Sound provided insight into how various technologies throughout cinema’s history have been used to reinforce the viewer’s preconceived notions. In the commodification of Black voices at the advent of synchronized sound, Hollywood found itself in a positive feedback loop of racial essentialism. Additionally, the article touches on the concept of synesthesia. This term broadly refers to blending sensory experiences and how that relates to linking sound to racial, class, and other socioeconomic stereotypes in film. The Public Enemy film provides an excellent case study for this, as Tom and Matt exhibit crass, sharp diction along with thick accents and rapid speech to signal to the viewer their lower-class background. This grounds the characters in a gritty, working-class realism that serves to enhance the viewer’s understanding of the film by relating it to stereotypes they already hold while also strengthening them in a broadly destructive way. Something I am curious about is this: how has this use of sound to create caricatures of people groups evolved to where it is today? I
Watching the film The Public Enemy right after watching two short silent films made me realize the extent to which the introduction of sound to film likely contributed to the ideas in the reading from Cinema at its Source. Without the sound component, films would not be able to use voices and accents to perpetuate stereotypes.
In the Public Enemy, we see the use of accents to differentiate class and social status even within a single racial group. Tom’s girlfriend speaks in a softer, “classier” voice, almost like a Daisy Buchanan, whereas Tom’s mother’s voice sounds rougher and quite distinct from Gwen’s, indicating that she may be from a lower social class. It’s interesting how Gwen’s voice clearly sounds different from the other characters’ because that distinction solidifies the idea that Gwen seems to represent Tom’s rise in power and social/criminal status. Reading the text for today, I started to consider how the racialized tropes conveyed through sound in early cinema persist in modern Hollywood and in the music industry today?
Wellman’s The Public Enemy is definitely a classic mobster film that I enjoyed as it certainly has its fair share of quirks and brilliant pieces of directing. I particularly found the grapefruit scene very intriguing as I noticed Kitty’s reaction seemed very genuine; I decided to look more into the filming of that exact scene and found that Mae Clarke was not told that this was going to happen, which is a very brilliant piece of directing by Wellman and a technique that I have seen used in other films and shows.
Additionally, it is easy to see connections between The Public Enemy and Synchronizing Race and Sound. I took note of one statement the author made saying, “…color/race promises a particular kind of sound, and that sound, once heard, is supposed to refer back to the color/ race that produced it” (33). This struck me because the parallels in voice and an association with a particular group of people are clear in The Public Enemy, such as with the accents each of the characters have for example. The slight twang in these Irish-American voices has now become associated with a Chicago accent, and I myself can attest to this having grown up in that city. Further, these kinds of connections also apply more broadly to the other films we have discussed in class thus far, mainly The Godfather films. Coppola uses the classic elements of Italian-American culture in his characters to highlight a group that was viewed in a historically negative light upon their immigration from Italy. However, I do wonder how directors in the mob/mafia genre specifically “walk the line” between culture and stereotypes in their films (for example, the way we discussed how Coppola became the ‘betrayer’ of Italian-American culture after Godfather III).
While I’ve appreciated the power of sound in cinema in the past, Synchronizing Race and Sound provide a brand new angle to analyze the way sound is used in film. Despite focusing on the role of Black performers in the age of sound, similar lines are drawn in The Public Enemy to emphasize the difference between social classes. Tom and Matt speak with an accent which differentiates them from the educated tone and style Gwen speaks. Although they are not Italian-Americans, I assume there were similar negative stereotypes about Irish immigrants and as we discussed in class, media like The Public Enemy perpetuated these beliefs. By speaking slang, Tom and Matt represent Irish immigrants as a whole, and the population subconsciously associates the lack of education and law breaking with the group as a whole. Furthermore, I found it interesting how the role of sound served as a double edged sword for the Black population by providing new opportunities while perpetuating negative racial beliefs. Gangster movies seem to act in the same way for immigrant communities such as the Irish and the Italians as we know the mafia movie becomes hugely synonymous with Italian-Americans. In addition, the inclusion of a white female character as the love interest reminded me of the idea in class that these WASP women represented the American dream as a whole which I think fits squarely for this movie. One thought from the movie was how common was violence in movies at this point? Was the potential glorification of violence controversial? Glorifying violence is a topic of discussion today so I can only imagine there were debates then as well.
For Jan 29 class: I thought that the film The Public Enemy and Alice Maurice’s “Cinema at Its Source” had some overlap, as they both examined how early Hollywood used sound, identity, and spectacle to shape cultural perceptions. Maurice argues that black performers were used to legitimize early sound cinema, as their voices were framed as authentic for talkies. Similarly, The Public Enemy uses James Cagney’s distinct street-slang, which was fast and sharp, to construct the archetypal gangster and reinforce stereotypes about crime and masculinity. In both cases, Hollywood capitalized on marginalized identities to sell technological and narrative innovations to mass audiences. When it comes to the idea of identity, Maurice discusses how Hollywood ensured that black voices remained synchronized with black bodies. Likewise, The Public Enemy locks Cagney’s character into his specific gangster identity, making his eventual downfall inevitable. In other words, both narratives offer visibility of certain cultures yet also control how these cultures are to be perceived. Finally, the role of violence and spectacle is central in both cases. Maurice describes how early sound films used black musicality and religious emphasis to captivate audiences, while The Public Enemy relied on shocking moments, like the famous grapefruit scene and brutal shootouts. This traps these historically marginalized groups into solely being spectacles, something which likely fueled negative connotations and stereotypes towards these groups.
Ultimately, all of these tools and strategies reveal how early Hollywood leveraged sound and identity to reinforce social order, ensuring that marginalized figures ( black performers or gangsters) remained entertaining but ultimately constrained within cinematic hierarchies.
The Public Enemy frames organized crime as an ethnic enclave where Irish-Americans resort to organized criminal activity as a means of economic advancement in a society that denies them traditional opportunities. This theme aligns with Alice Maurice’s argument in “Cinema at Its Source”, where she examines how early sound cinema reinforced racial and ethnic distinctions through synchronization, which is a process that gangster films use to audibly connect criminality with ethnic identity. In The Public Enemy, Irish-American gangsters speak with thick urban accents and slang, distinguishing them from the more refined speech of law-abiding citizens and reinforcing their status as outsiders to mainstream American society. This reflects a broader cinematic trend where crime becomes a path to power for marginalized ethnic groups, whose voices separate them from Anglo-American authority. The way these characters sound not only signals their exclusion from legitimate institutions but also constructs organized crime as an ethnic survival strategy. This leads me to wonder whether synchronization within the mafia movie genre can only work to negatively bind Italian-Americans with organized crime.
In contrast to the silent films of the last class, this class (January 29th) focuses on the usage of sound and the way in which sound can be used to emphasize different aspects of film. The Public Enemy (1931), produced by Warner Bros., and the reading “Cinema at Its Source”: Synchronizing Race and Sound in the Early Talkies both examine the evaluation of sound throughout the film industry. Cinema at Its Source allowed me to consider the intersection between race and sound, one I had not considered in this manner. Synesthesia was very interesting to learn about considering this intersection. Sound in films is crucial, whether it be music, speaking, or simply ambient noises, they all help tell a story. Sound allows the film to become more detailed and it helps to create a more immersive film for viewers. Provided the crucial role sound plays, I was very interested in understanding how sound was used early in the industry considering both source perspectives. The biggest take away I had was how the early film industry used sound in connection with existing social hierarchies. Whether through the racialization of performances which the reading discusses or through the socio-economic depiction of characters through the lens of crime and morality, which the movie shows, both highlight how when first introduced, sound was used to discriminate against certain groups of people. I found this particularly fascinating because of the overarching evolution of sound in the film industry.
I really enjoyed The Public Enemy and found it to be an entertaining, action-packed film with an early take on the gangster narrative in film. The plot connects to the idea we discussed in class of how cinema echoes the news. The blurred lines between film and reality are explicitly stated in the title cards at the beginning and end of the film, emphasizing how the story is inspired by true events. In the end, we see how the rise and fall of Tom Powers reflects a broader societal issue during the prohibition era.
My first thoughts after watching The Public Enemy were how significantly impactful montage and sound play in the film. The simple addition of dialogue and background sound, along with the editor’s careful arrangement of shots, can completely transform the experience of the film. This effect is present from the beginning when we see Tom and Matt running away from an officer, accompanied by the sound of gunshots, which are then preceded by a shot of the deceased police officer’s hand. While we never actually see the act of killing, the techniques used have facilitated our understanding of the event.
I was also struck by how adding sound amplifies the film’s violence compared to Black Hand and Little Peppina. Matt’s final moments come to mind (01:12:15) as the sound of intense gunfire paired with a shot of him running makes up for the lack of visual effects that are seen in modern films today. I am curious to see how Hays Code would change how violence is portrayed in later gangster films.
Though in rather different ways, Alice Maurice’s Cinema at Its Source and The Public Enemy both demonstrate how early sound cinema influenced identity. Wellman’s film makes Tom Powers’s ascent and decline more visceral by using synchronized language to enhance James Cagney’s performance. His strength, masculinity, and criminal authority are reinforced by sound, which gives the gangster genre a new degree of realism.
Maurice, on the other hand, emphasizes how Hallelujah!’s use of sound racialized Black singers. Stereotypes of Black actors as “naturally” suited for emotive acting were reinforced by MGM’s marketing of Black voices as both a novelty and a remedy for the technological difficulties of early sound film. Synchronization was not merely a technical concept; it was also ideological, bringing Black voices into line with conventional notions of authenticity. These performances were fetishized by white critics who said they gave sound movies a more “alive” quality.
Both films demonstrate how cinematic identity was created by sound. Black singers were placed within racialized expectations in Hallelujah!, while The Public Enemy solidified the gangster character through speech. This poses the question: How have racial and social identities been constructed through the use of sound and voice in film?
To have the selected movie and reading paired for today’s class certainly highlights the racialization that early Italian immigrants felt in America. The article, “Cinema at Its Source”, focuses on the interesting characteristics of early talkie films that intertwined certain aspects of the performers (physical appearance, tone and quality of voice, “innate” behavior, etc.) with the quality and effectiveness of the talking picture itself. The reading specifically focused on Black performers in such films and the concerted effort of Hollywood producers to use Black performers to make the talkie more palatable for audiences. This manifested in the manner in which the performers’ voices were characterized (i.e., fetishization of the Black actor’s “low, mellow voice” with its “rich resonance”), an assertion that Black performers better captured the “essence” of talkies in their dancing and general liveliness that kept the film moving, and, in some ways, as being scapegoats for Hollywood should the early talkies have underperformed. Seeing this reading paired with “The Public Enemy”, a film following some iteration of organized crime in the U.S., brings to light the racialization of immigrant groups that many fail to acknowledge today considering a great number of these groups are no longer racialized in such a way. Similar to how the article says Black actors made up a majority of the casts for early talkies because the audience knew what they were getting into in the sense that they knew, stereotypically, what voice to expect from a Black person, one might see a similar connection between talkies about the mob or other gangs in that “whiter” individuals might know the stereotype of how “hoodlums” talk which would make their lives ideal subject matter for talkies. The root of this discussion though would go back to stereotyping and racialization in the sense that Hollywood was capitalizing on certain groups’ “otherness” to keep talkies interesting and more or less insured if they were negatively received.
After watching Wellman’s “The Public Enemy” and reading Maurice’s “Cinema at its Source,” her discussion of race and sound are quite relevant to the film. Maurice argues that early sound films operated through what she describes as a fetishization, in which the technical limitations of synchronized sound were compensated for by emphasizing racialized performances. In The Public Enemy, we see a similar mechanism at play: not through race but through the impact of audible violence. The Public Enemy enhances its viewing experience through the sonic emphasis of spanks, gunshots, fist fighting, and breaking glass. The exaggerated sound effects land with the audience in a way that keeps us engaged, shocked, or otherwise entertained. This use of sound to amplify violence mirrors Maurice’s argument that early talkies sought to reinforce spectacle through sensory impact. Just as black voices were framed as “more authentic” for sound recording, the heightened audio of The Public Enemy makes crime feel more immersive and brutal, capturing the realms of both realism and entertainment. When Tom Powers is killed in the film, the ear-piercing, relentless gunfire, coupled with the unsettling silence that follows, exemplifies how the film so adeptly utilizes sound to enhance the viewing experience.
A common trope in many mafia movies or shows is how the Italian and Sicilian immigrants faced and endured extreme hardship upon their arrival to the United States, after this week’s readings, we are able to see that these grievances were very well founded in reality. I remember that I was in a fairly constant state of shock when I read “The Passing of the Great Race” and the Immigration report by the US government. I have always known that during the early 20th century there was a large attempt at scientific racism, what I never knew was just how seriously this was taken. One thing that particularly stood out to me is the denigration and intense use of negative descriptive words whenever talking about southern Italians in stark comparison to their compatriots to the north. I always thought that the excessive hatred was towards the Sicilians not to the entire southern area of Italy. I also found it curious that although many supremacists and elitists will dream and call back to the once-great Roman Empire, they were considering most Italians of poor genetics and being of a lower race. In the directory of races, I was shocked at the numbers of immigrants and how it blatantly said that the immigration of Italians/Sicilians posed the greatest threat since they had the largest number of immigrants and the largest population at home to support a continued exodus. I also noticed that it did not mention how the Sicilian immigrants could be fleeing from the mafia; rather, it regarded it as a natural fact of Sicily and wasn’t a factor. Lastly, the movies assigned for this week were extremely interesting. In the black hand silent film, we can clearly see the gross exaggeration of the Italian persona being the criminal and the kidnapper. Since there was no sound, the way this was conveyed was through the stereotypical dress and appearance as well as the hand gestures. I also noted how they were portrayed as drunkards who were tripping over themselves even though it was still in the afternoon. This was all obviously planned, and it demonstrated some of what I was talking about above in my blog. These stereotypes of Italians were similarly used in Poor Little Peppina with several scenes involving alcohol, and it was always the Italians who were drinking it. I am curious to see if the anti-Italian propaganda layered into these silent films will continue when we watch early “talkies.” How will the portrayal of Italians change now that sound can be used instead of solely relying on physical appearance, behavior, and gesticulation?
On page 41, the article discussed that as time passed after the end of the silent era, it was apparent actors “talked less with their bodies, with large signs and gesticulations”. I spent last semester in a silent film class watching over 60 silent films and the expressive nature of the actors was evident in almost every one. While I knew that it eventually went “out of style”, I was surprised to see that a film like The Public Enemy, released only 3 years after the silent era, was already so evolved in the sense of the new “quiet body” style.
The article also talked about the desire of viewers for realism in cinema. On page 61, a quote mentions “We want the real thing, always, and the cinema demands the real thing”. It brought to mind the conversation from class about the appeal of mafia-esque films that boasted they included real police footage. I found it interesting they too mentioned the interest that “real-life footage” piques among viewers.
Additionally, I felt that the sound effects that the film was able to include (now that talkies had begun) definitely added emphasis to a variety of scenes. Whether this was the boom of the out-of-frame gunshot when Putty was killed (which also tied to the in-class discussion) or the dramatic thump when characters were hit and fell to the ground. Even the romantic music that played in the background of affectionate scenes made them feel more meaningful.
There were multiple moments in the film I felt demonstrated the idea of montage. For example, in the phone call scene at 44:35, a frame of a man on the phone is followed by one of a woman on the phone, allowing the viewer to infer the call was between the two.
For this week’s blog, I found it particularly interesting to compare “The Public Enemy” to other films we’ve seen in class thusfar. More specifically, watching “The Public Enemy” after “The Godfather Part III” and “Part II” gave an interesting portrayal of the evolution of the gangster film and the concerns of its theme. Unlike “The Godfather” films, “The Public Enemy” presents a raw, individual portrayal of crime instead of an aristocratic entity with deep cultural ties. Tom isn’t part of a larger mafia hierarchy, but instead a simple street gangster driven by personal ambition and violence instead of tradition and legacy.
This makes me wonder: How did the portrayal of organized crime shift? Was it reflective of changes in organized crime itself, or Hollywood’s evolving narrative style? Furthermore, The Public Enemy lacks the sense of loyalty and honor that is signature to later mafia films. There are no ethical codes or rules of “omertà”. Tom betrays, bullies, and ultimately falls victim to the same violence he inflicts. What is responsible for this shift?
What surprised me about The Public Enemy (1931) was how gritty and intense it felt, even for a film that’s nearly a century old. I expected a classic gangster movie to feel somewhat tame by today’s standards, but this one didn’t hold back. The violence, though not as graphic as modern films, was shocking for its time, and James Cagney’s portrayal of Tom Powers was both captivating and unsettling. He wasn’t just a typical gangster—he was ruthless, unpredictable, and, at times, almost disturbingly casual about his crimes. The famous grapefruit scene caught me off guard; I had heard about it before, but seeing it in context made it even more jarring. And the ending? I didn’t see that coming at all. It was darker and more haunting than I expected, leaving a lasting impression that stuck with me long after the movie ended.
What surprised me about The Public Enemy (1931) was how gritty and intense it felt, even for a film that’s nearly a century old. I expected a classic gangster movie to feel somewhat tame by today’s standards, but this one didn’t hold back. The violence, though not as graphic as modern films, was shocking for its time, and James Cagney’s portrayal of Tom Powers was both captivating and unsettling. He wasn’t just a typical gangster—he was ruthless, unpredictable, and, at times, almost disturbingly casual about his crimes. The famous grapefruit scene caught me off guard; I had heard about it before, but seeing it in context made it even more jarring. And the ending? I didn’t see that coming at all. It was darker and more haunting than I expected, leaving a lasting impression that stuck with me long after the movie ended.
William A. Wellman’s film The Public Enemy was an interesting film to watch because compared to a few of the older films that we have watched, it added another layer of depth to it in the introduction of sound. Sound plays a vital role in separating this film from the two silent films because, while silent films can show everything that happens in the events of the movie, they lack the ability to comprehend the correct emotion because the actual text is delayed. Additionally, the sound is used to identify the different archetypes that characters use and create more complex characters from it. For instance, Tom’s brother Mike has a distinct tone that gives the impression that he has been through a lot given he was a marine. Additionally, Tom’s girlfriend has a more higher class voice which gives a suggestion to her origins. The introduction of sound also introduces more of a fear factor with the character and the movie in general as you can tell how violent the scene truly is by hearing the guns and can hear the anger and violence in Tom’s voice when he begins his descent into a mob boss. Even though sound adds another layer of difference between a silent film and a regular film, I am curious about just how much depth it can add to characters given their status, race, or position in society.
William A. Wellman’s film The Public Enemy was an interesting film to watch because compared to a few of the older films that we have watched, it added another layer of depth to it in the introduction of sound. Sound plays a vital role in separating this film from the two silent films because, while silent films can show everything that happens in the events of the movie, they lack the ability to comprehend the correct emotion because the actual text is delayed. Additionally, the sound is used to identify the different archetypes that characters use and create more complex characters from it. For instance, Tom’s brother Mike has a distinct tone that gives the impression that he has been through a lot given he was a marine. Additionally, Tom’s girlfriend has a more higher class voice which gives a suggestion to her origins. The introduction of sound also introduces more of a fear factor with the character and the movie in general as you can tell how violent the scene truly is by hearing the guns and can hear the anger and violence in Tom’s voice when he begins his descent into a mob boss. Even though sound adds another layer of difference between a silent film and a regular film, I am curious about just how much depth it can add to characters given their status, race, or position in society.
I found it very interesting to read about the intentional racial aspects of film. We continue to see today the legacy of these talkies and the characteristics that they impose on black people, as well as the legacy of the imposed mafioso identity onto Italians and Italian Americans. I thought this was especially interesting to consider within the context of the racialization of the Italian identity. Throughout American history, the Italian identity has been debated as to their association with a certain race, and the stereotypes that are enforced in film enhance these debates. The application of the mafioso identity onto Italians forces a more violent identity to the Italian population, and allows people to assign this identity onto Italians, further perpetuating the race debate. These films, as Maurice explains, are intentional in their design and production. They work to enforce racist and xenophobic ideals against Black Americans and Italian Americans, and encourage assumptions about these populations. Even with a more developed film production process today, we continue to see this work in action. Often Black and Italian characters in film are still assigned the identities that were portrayed int he early talkies, a similar “thug” or “mafioso” caricature of these people. On page 47, Maurice explains that “the black performer is aligned with spectacle”, similar to the Italian performer as we see in “The Public Enemy” (1931). It is easy to create a public enemy out of an identity, which is an issue that we see across politics as well. An enemy is created out of an identity, and this identity becomes a spectacle in film and in real life. We see this identity as something of a spectacle, a thing that is completely separate from our identity and not relatable by us, so it is enjoyable to use because we do cannot sympathize with these characters. Filmmakers play with and exacerbate these issues in film, and further alienate these racial and ethnic groups.
A common trope in many mafia movies or shows is how the Italian and Sicilian immigrants faced and endured extreme hardship upon their arrival to the United States, after this week’s readings, we are able to see that these grievances were very well founded in reality. I remember that I was in a fairly constant state of shock when I read “The Passing of the Great Race” and the Immigration report by the US government. I have always known that during the early 20th century, there was a large attempt at scientific racism, what I never knew was just how seriously this was taken. One thing that particularly stood out to me is the denigration and intense use of negative descriptive words whenever talking about southern Italians in stark comparison to their compatriots to the north. I always thought that the excessive hatred was towards the Sicilians, not to the entire southern area of Italy. I also found it curious that although many supremacists and elitists will dream and call back to the once-great Roman Empire, they were considering most Italians of poor genetics and being of a lower race. In the directory of races, I was shocked at the numbers of immigrants and how it blatantly said that the immigration of Italians/Sicilians posed the greatest threat since they had the largest number of immigrants and the largest population at home to support a continued exodus. I also noticed how it did not mention how the Sicilian immigrants could be fleeing from the mafia but rather regarded it as a natural fact of Sicily and wasn’t a factor. Lastly, the movies assigned for this week were extremely interesting. In the black hand silent film, we can clearly see the gross exaggeration of the Italian persona being the criminal and the kidnapper. Since there was no sound, the way this was conveyed was through the stereotypical dress and appearance as well as the hand gestures. I also noted how they were portrayed as drunkards who were tripping over themselves even though it was still in the afternoon. This all was obviously planned and demonstrated some of what I was talking about above in my blog. These stereotypes of Italians were similarly used in Poor Little Peppina with several scenes involving alcohol, and it was always the Italians who were drinking it. I am curious to see if the anti-Italian propaganda that was layered into these silent films will continue when we watch early “talkies.” How will the portrayal of Italians change now that sound can be used instead of solely relying on physical appearance, behavior, and gesticulation?
Robert Warshow’s article the Gangster as Tragic Hero presents the gangster, both as a character and as a movie genre, as representative of the danger of success. He labels the possibility of failure to be “a kind of death” and success as “evil and dangerous” and “ultimately impossible”. I think this is an interesting idea that contributes to why the genre of gangster films is so appealing to the public–it makes failure more comfortable. The movies we have seen so far demonstrate a similar progression for the protagonist, as he moves up in the ranks and becomes more successful, his actions become more shady and violent until, finally, when they catch up with him and he dies. This concept associates a danger with success that becomes palatable to the public who are not rising up in society through a risk-reward lifestyle. Rico’s actions ultimately catch up with him at his death, just as Tom’s had in the Public Enemy, or Michael’s in Godfather 3 at Mary’s death–demonstrating that they can only live so high up and reap the benefits of being a gangster temporarily. I wonder if this will be a progression in every film of this genre where, after a certain point, the successful boss is doomed and if that pattern is what makes the films so successful.
In “The Gangster as Tragic Hero”, Robert Warshow presents an interesting analysis of American society and its fundamental, almost dutiful, commitment to a happiness-driven view of life. He argues that happiness is not only a desirable state of mind or state of society, but rather a civic duty and ideal for which to strive. This can be seen in the 1931 film Little Caesar wherein the protagonist Rico’s rise to power is glorified, while also simultaneously cursed by standing in solitude atop his criminal empire. The theme of isolation on the road to achieving success is common among the movies we have studied thus far, as seen in Michael Corleone’s breakdown throughout the Godfather series and in Tom Powers’s defeat at the end of Public Enemy. I can’t also help but draw parallels between this theme and the state of American society at the time that “The Gangster as Tragic Hero” was written immediately following World War II: the United States achieved a great deal of success on the world stage and emerged as a superpower, yet new threats were already rising and Americans were feeling an overwhelming “duty” to be happy instead of the raw feeling of happiness.
Lastly, I want to point out a difference between Little Caesar and Public Enemy that struck me: in Public Enemy, when Tom believes he may die after the shootout, he says, “I ain’t so tough”, and in contrast, in Public Enemy Rico says as his last words, “Mother of mercy, is this the end of Rico?” It is almost as if Tom was accepting of his mortality while Rico could not believe he had been defeated, and I am interested in further analyzing this difference given that I think the films have many other thematic similarities.
Monday Feb 3: As discussed in class this past Wednesday and within the reading “The Gangster as Tragic Hero”, the idea of the gangster as a complex character that we feel conflicting distain as well as sympathy is very intriguing. Even though the gangster chooses the life they lead, there is a despair that once in the life, there is no escape. The true tragedy is the lack of escape in any aspect of life. The gangster chooses the life of crime to escape the life of poverty to then try and escape the life of crime for happiness, none of which ever becomes possible. This tragedy is seen within the film “Little Cesar” as well as in all three Godfather movies. While reading “The Gangster as Tragic Hero” I was struck by the line “Happiness becomes the chief political issue”. Within cinema and really every aspect of life, we are all searching for happiness above all else. Whether that is in the form of love, friendship, experiences, validation, or something else, we are all craving the feeling of happiness. Due to this constant craving, the gangster movie trop is so appealing because we see each of our tragedies in life played out in the movie (it is to different extremes of connection to our reality). The tragedy is that we all search for happiness. For the gangster, they can see the happiness that we all strive for through the mafia. They get a taste of this happiness through a strong family, power, and money, however, the tragedy comes when they always end up coming to the realization that the never ending happiness can never be obtained regardless of power or money. While the audience is repulsed by the choice to turn to crime in order to find happiness, we can all sympathize with the gangster and give them credit for trying to find new ways to obtain happiness. I believe that if gangsters were able to find sustained happiness through their lives of crime, the audience/public wold be much more accepting to the idea of gangsters. A part of why we are so repulsed by gangsters is because we all believe that if that was the way to happiness, we too would become gangsters. The idea of understanding gangsters but also hating ourselves due to this understanding is perfectly summed up in “The Gangster as Tragic Hero” as it states, “the gangster is what we want to be and what we are afraid we may become”.
Prior to watching early talkies like The Public Enemy and Little Caesar, I didn’t know how the films would fit into the mafioso story that we first looked at with Godfather III in the 90s and traced back to early cinema with the short films from last week. The Godfather trilogy, if acquainted with, can seem as an offshoot of cinematic focus since, I would argue, there aren’t many new films being made with a strong interest in early 20th century Italian mobs. Looking at the short films, it would seem the Italian mafia story gained traction in the movies because it was culturally relevant as would be suggested by the forewords that appeared prior to the start of some films. But I would say The Public Enemy and Little Caesar fit in a unique space between the early 1900s and 1990 because neither are expressly Italian in character, and they seem to be defined by events that make them interestingly un-Italian as compared to both prior and later films of a similar mob/gangster nature. This becomes apparent when reading Warshow’s essay on the function of the gangster in cinema from the first half of the 20th century.
Warshow writes about two things in particular that stood out to me regarding the gap between gangster movies and Italian mafia movies with the first being how the gangster’s work is never fully defined such that it appears purely criminal behavior. When we look at The Public Enemy and Little Caesar, the men in these movies do have undefined work. They clearly do not work other jobs outside of their crime organizations, but why do their crime organizations exist? What is the objective of killing others or robbing shops? The audience can make assumptions about Prohibition, rejection of authority, etc. etc., but the plot itself never makes this clear. Looking specifically at Michael Corleone in parts II and III of the Godfather, we know about his work whether that be in banking with the Vatican or in Vegas casinos.
Secondly, Warshow writes about the inevitability of failure for the gangster in that he pushes himself to succeed, and success must be done alone, but being alone is dangerous so he dies and in death he fails. This trope certainly holds for The Public Enemy and Little Caesar as we see individual men working their way through the mob who eventually die gruesome deaths by their lonesome. Looking at the deaths in the Godfather though, Michael and Vito aren’t killed for their work. Additionally, we never see true isolation for the main “gangsters” of the Godfather as the business is, at its core, a family affair.
This distinction between early gangster movies and more explicitly Italian mafia movies made me think about how the treatment of the mafia changed over the course of the 20th century. Were the early films, which do have Italian characters, a true reflection of the mob at the time or simply a generalized assumption made by Hollywood? If it is more or less accurate, why is there such a stark change in the way we see the mob in these 1930s films as compared to Coppola’s mafia? Would this suggest the state of organized crime in America itself was changing so drastically from 1930 through the end of World War II? Or is this simply highlighting regional differences in organized crime as the early films we’ve seen are set in Chicago and the Godfather is focused on New York mafia? Additionally, the Sicilian mafia, as we’ve seen in Dickie, originated with a purpose centered on exploiting the citrus exports from the island and profited on safety in numbers (involving families and even entire towns, earning respect from individuals to keep them quiet in the face of the law, scoring political protection from having friends in high places). So beyond the accents, names, locations, and general culture of the Godfather, why are those later films seemingly more in-touch with the Sicilian origins of the mafia and organized crime as it was brought to America than the earlier films of the century?
Little Caesar perfectly exemplifies Robert Warshow’s theory that a typical gangster film follows “a steady upward progress followed by a very precipitate fall.” While I agree with Warshow’s assertion that the only possible outcomes for a gangster are death and failure, I believe Rico’s downfall unfolds differently than he suggests.
There are two types of death a character can experience: physical and spiritual. These can occur separately, together, or even in conflict with one another, with one ultimately prevailing. In Rico’s case, the death of his gangster spirit directly leads to his physical demise. Throughout the film, his two identities—his personal self and his criminal persona—are in constant struggle. As he ascends through the ranks of his crime organization, he loses his individuality, molding himself into the ruthless figure he believes he must become. However, when the moment arrives for him to fully commit to this identity by killing his friend Joe, he hesitates. In that instant, his gangster spirit dies, sealing his fate and ensuring his eventual physical downfall.
Rico’s actual death isn’t the most significant moment of his story—his failure is. By the third act, his desperate, emasculating behavior while on the run makes it clear that he has lost everything he worked for. His physical death merely underscores the brutal inevitability of a gangster’s downfall. His final words serve as a tragic acknowledgment of this truth: he has not only died but, more importantly, he has failed. Had Rico fully embraced his gangster persona, he might have survived this particular moment. Ultimately, however, it would have only delayed the inevitable.
I thought the article was very interesting and had good insight into “gangster” films. As I was reading, I found myself drawing connections from many different areas to the films we have watched so far. One point the article mentioned was “the typical gangster film presents a steady upward progress followed by a very precipitate fall.” This drew obvious connections to a variety of characters like Rico in Little Caesar, Matt and Tom in The Public Enemy, and Vito Corleone in the Godfather 1&2. However, it also caused me to reflect on Michael’s story in The Godfather 1/2/3 as he never had a quick fall from fame. He slowly lost more and more important people in his life and, presumably, maintained his wealth and status until he died of old age. I wondered if maybe that difference is part of what makes The Godfather stand out or even what makes Michael one of the more likable characters out of the various films
The article also talked a lot about the individuality of the gangster. It says “The gangster’s whole life is an effort to assert himself as an individual, to draw himself out of the crowd”. While I agree with this, as well as the connected arguments they make, I was surprised they didn’t speak about the significance that relationships have as well. While the gangster’s importance comes from their individuality, their power and character come from their connection to others (at least in the film depictions). This is evident in The Godfather(s) where Vito gains his power through favors to others. Additionally, a big part of Rico and Tom’s lives were their best friends (Joe and Matt)
Having finished the early talkies The Public Enemy, and Little Ceasar, I was shocked by how much the characters had undergone a shift from the early silent gangster/mob movies. Firstly, the characters had foreign-sounding names (probably of Italian descent) which I felt was deliberate to continue to show that this type of crime is not truly American but rather imported. Still, they were seemingly more Americanized than their counterparts in the early movies. In Little Ceasar for example, Rico doesn’t drink and we only ever see him drunk once he has lost it all at the end of the movie. There are no more flagrant stereotypes like there were in the silent films and this stood out as interesting to me.
One more thing that was very interesting to me about the movie was how religion was still present in the film. Rico’s dying words include the phrase Mother of God. This all the more shows the hypocrisy of the gangster as he will still call on God even though earlier on in the plot he had Tony gunned down on the steps of a Church. I couldn’t help but remember in Godfather III how Don Tomassino was gunned down by an assassin in Priest’s clothes. The motif of religion in mafia/gangster movies was present from the beginning.
Lastly, in the readings, I saw the immediate connections that the author made about the gangster film being emblematic of a slow rise and a sudden collapse. This was certainly the case in both of the 1931 talkies that we saw, where both the protagonists died in the end. I loved the quote that appeared at the beginning of Little Caesar “For all that take the sword, shall perish with the sword”. This serves two purposes: firstly, as foreshadowing as Rico dies by the metaphorical sword (in this case the gun) and secondly, as a callback to the religious undertones in the movie since this is a biblical quote from the gospel of Matthew. Also in the readings was a mention of how it is dangerous to be alone and we certainly see this because the main deaths in the film are when the characters are alone and whenever a character is alone there is a certain uneasy feeling as we know there is the possibility of death. The author also mentions how every attempt to succeed is an act of aggression and Rico perfectly captures this when he says that the Big Boy is done just like Sam was done; there is always aggression. I do wonder how or why this motif commenced because it does not do justice to the truth of the matter, how diplomacy has always been a factor in gangs and how among the most important details in the mafia is the concept of family. I look forward to seeing how this will change throughout the movies we will watch.
I found the rise and fall of Rico particularly interesting. Similar to many of the Mafia characters we have seen thus far, Rico was extremely confident and did not let anyone step in his way of what he wanted to accomplish. This was a very favorable aspect for him in the beginning because at first his boss thought he was crazy and it would get him killed, however it was quite the opposite. He gained massive respect very quickly and dealt with all of his enemies himself. Similar to Public Enemy, when he got to the top it did not seem like he quite fit in. At the dinners where he was being celebrated he seemed quite uncomfortable and out of place. He also seemed uncomfortable when he put on a fancy tuxedo because he was not used to his newfound fame. This to me was foreshadowing the fact that his reign would be short-lived. Even though he was confident with his ability to run his “business”, he knew that he didn’t fit in with the other high class people that were surrounding him. I also found it ironic that the one moment he let up and didn’t pull the trigger right away was the start of his downfall. This shows that if you choose the life of a gangster you can never get rid of it even if you want to. I also thought it was ironic that the end of his life was behind a billboard of Tom because not killing him was the beginning of his downfall and also the end of it.
As Warshow notes and as we have discussed in class, the archetype of the mafia movie often falls into familiar archetypes, like any body of work from Shakespeare to theater. One of these archetypes that both “Little Caesar (1931)” and “The Gangster as Tragic Hero” illuminate is the gangster as a symbol of modern anxiety in city life. Gangsters and mafia types embody the contradictions of urban life: the pursuit of success and the inevitability of failure. Rico is an obvious manifestation of this dynamic—he is attracted to the city for its bigness and ruthless environment, and he becomes the ultimate product of this system over time.
Throughout “Little Caesar,” Rico rises to power in the city through ambition and violence. The gangster world rewards dominance, but he becomes vulnerable when he reaches the top. Rico’s death after his rise to power reflects a darker societal perception: success is both desirable and dangerous.
The gangster also exposes society’s hypocrisy. Rico’s rise follows the same logic as corporate success—he seizes opportunities, eliminates competition, and builds an empire. The difference is that his methods are explicit. Warshow suggests this is a large part of why we are drawn to gangsters— they reveal the aggression behind all ambition, forcing us to confront the unsettling reality that success often requires moral compromise.
Yet, the gangster must always die. Rico’s final words: “Mother of mercy, is this the end of Rico?”—reveal the tragic irony of his life. He was never truly in control. His death reassures audiences that the system corrects itself, even if they secretly identify with his struggle. The gangster is, therefore, as Warshow argues, a tragic figure embodying society’s deep anxieties about power, ambition, and failure.
I disagreed with a great portion of Warshow’s article. He says in one sentence: “the fate of the individual is not conceived as having a direct and legitimate political importance.” Later he says: “the avowed function of the modern state ….is to determine the quality and the possibilities of human life in general. Happiness thus becomes the chief political issue.” These sentences seem to contradict each other.
He also says that “If an American or Russian is unhappy, it implies a certain reprobation of his society …. It becomes an obligation of citizenship to be cheerful.” Really? The article was written in 1948. I don’t believe that a nation recovering from four years of war found it compelling to be cheerful. They did their duty, everyone sacrificed for what was thought a higher good, but I don’t believe cheerful would be a word that the average citizen would feel or feel compelled to feel.
When it comes to analyzing the gangster movies, I believe that Warshow overthinks it, at least for the average movie goer he claims to speak of; though maybe not for his intellectual crowd. “The real facts of whatever situation it pretends to describe is of only secondary importance and does not determine the aesthetic force.” I don’t see this at all. I think the average movie goer sees those real facts and situation to be the basis of an interesting story, if it is told well, and of critical importance.
He also states that “often we are not given even that much information. So his activity becomes a kind of pure criminality.” In The Public Enemy we get a very clear insight into Tommy’s background and how he progressed from smart aleck kid to street thug to organized crime boss. (Also is true in Godfather two though written long after Warshow’s article.)
He later mentions that the gangster is looking for “a success that is defined in its most general terms, not as accomplishment or specific gain.” Again, I disagree. In both The Public Enemy and in Little Caesar, Tommy and Rico had very specific goals in terms of the levels they wanted to achieve and who they’d have to displace to achieve those levels of success.
I agree with his assertion that the gangster is doomed but disagree that it not because of his unlawful means of attaining success and due to the “obligation to succeed.” Again, I think Warshow is over-thinking his point and bringing in his own political views versus just analyzing the movies.
Little Caesar embodies the sentiment that Robert Warshow expressed in the closing of the article “The Gangster as the Tragic Hero”: “failure is a kind of death and success is evil and dangerous, is—ultimately—impossible.” Rico’s story follows the classic archetypal plot of the mafia boss’s rise to power and subsequent fall. He starts from nothing and, through a propensity for violence, climbs his way to riches and respect, achieving what he held to be the American dream. In the movie, the character of Joe presents a foil to Rico’s cutthroat grab for power by attempting to make a legal living through dancing and pursuing a legitimate career that makes him happy. However, he is unable to leave the gang life, and he and Rico both ultimately fail to achieve success, representing the degradation of the American Dream by organized crime. However, we do see a rare moment of Rico’s humanity when he is unable to kill his best friend Joe for trying to leave the life of crime. After Joe’s murder, Rico’s life trends steadily downhill, until he has lost any wealth and respect he gained from the mafia. The violence that led to his meteoric success is rendered senseless by his fall from fame. One could argue that this is his true death, the death by his failure, as Warshow puts it, which leaves his actual perishing to be anticlimactic. His final words, “ Is this the end of Rico?”, Warshow explains, demonstrate how even to himself, Rico has become a figment of the imagination, a larger than life character. This omnipotent, God-like, power-hungry character is not unlike Tom in the Public Enemy, However, while Tom seems to regain his humanity at the end of the movie after his near-death experience, Rico appears to distance himself farther from it after losing everything: his friend, his mafia family, his position. He has become so intertwined with his persona of Little Caesar that he can no longer separate the person from the mobster.
For Feb 3rd: The article Robert Warshow about “The Gangster As Tragic Hero” discusses fascinating aspects of human nature and psychology where humans are constantly reaching towards a state of happiness, and this definition of happiness is oftentimes tied together with success. Around the time of the early 1900s, the beacon of success for many, especially immigrants, was through the American Dream. Little Caesar’s film gives a more violent and twisted take on the American Dream where Rico aggressively built power through heinous crimes all for the sake of success, only to fail in the end due to his excess hubris and greed for power. As the viewer, it becomes quite conflicted to watch, as we both sympathize and scorn Rico’s actions. The reason why the gangster movie can feel like a tragedy to those who watch it is because of our instant understanding of the character in a society where everyone is trying to reach success and happiness. Therefore we can understand Rico’s motivation. However due to Rico’s extreme measures that everyday citizens would never behave, reaching success in such a manner is evil, and the only conclusion for such a character is death.
I also thought the writer had an interesting take on why people are satisfied by tragic gangster movies. My personal understanding, as well as the writer’s take, is that people gain comfort in seeing others’ tragedies while holding their own lives as a comparison. It is also tied together with what we have mentioned in class about how people are drawn to mafia cinema to experience violence and drama in a safe environment. By watching the gangster’s attempt to reach success but to meet with a tragic end, we can live our violent fantasies through them and also know the ending of our lives if we chose such a path of self destruction to claim power. The movies can be used to rationalize the decisions we make in life and make ourselves feel better about our own mediocrity.
Little Caesar prompted me to consider how mafia men dress the part. The gangster attire: a big top hat, dark suit, tie or bowtie, pocket square, cigar in mouth, and gelled back hair, demonstrate prestige and cleanliness. These similarities in attire contribute to the reputation of the mafia, meaning men who simultaneously perform “dirty” business and purport a political image of status. Going back to our reading last week about how the South of Italy was associated with “mysterious” and “highly imaginative” people, this is consistent with how mafia men are portrayed in Little Caesar: men of high society living mysterious and revengeful lives. They exert an image of power that the filmmakers are eager to parallel to a similarly “suave” business life internally between mafia men.
As Robert Warshow argues in his essay, the gangster figure that emerged in early-20th-century cinema expresses the tension within the American psyche about modern life through the rise and fall of the gangster character. I think this idea is perfectly reflected in both The Public Enemy and Little Caesar, which are shaped by their historical contexts and highlight the broader issues at the time. Similar to the character development of Tom Powers, Rico in Little Caesar follows a path of short-term success through illegal activities that ultimately lead to his downfall. The author points out that the urban environment creates this “man of the city” for characters like Rico, and it’s also the place where he dies as an individual. I think that part of this loneliness is conveyed through the friendship between Joe and Rico, as Joe longs for a life with Olga outside of crime, and Rico is left alone. I found Warshow’s thoughts on death in the gangster movie to also be interesting, as death offers a resolution that allows us, the audience, to feel safe from the tension of modern life. This idea connects to our class discussion on whether Tom Powers represented the American Dream or the corruption of the American Dream. While Rico embodies the ambitions central to the American Dream, his lifestyle leads him down a dark path; I found that this aspect was conveyed visually in the film’s final moments through the use of shadows and dark lighting moments before Rico’s death.
After reading “Robert Warshow: The Gangster As Tragic Hero” I tried to see the movie in the way he described. One key aspect of the article that I saw throughout the movie was the idea of rising to the top because of your individualism, but falling soon after for that very reason. Specifically, the article says, “The gangster’s whole life is an effort to assert himself as an individual, to draw himself out of the crowd, and he always dies because he is an individual.” Rico was constantly more boastful and more assertive than the rest of the people in his gang. He even seemed to ignore the apparent power dynamics with not only his own boss but every figure with power in the movie. The individualism Rico had was derived from his ego, but also his commitment to his ideals of not becoming “yellow” or in other words betraying/leaving the gang. The irony with this is that he was an independent person who never really listened to orders, but praised the idea of staying together and relying on each other. Then, in his death he was not only just alone, but he also referred to himself in third person because as Warshow describes, “ what has been brought low was not the undifferentiated man, but the individual with a name.”
I also wanted to point out Warshow’s point on a vague background portraying a sense of “pure criminality.” This was definitely true in the movie, because the dancing club was simply a setting that we as an audience didn’t know much about. It was a cover and all we really associated with it was crime, which did portray the idea that these people were purely criminals.
I believe that Little Caesar serves as a fascinating lens through which to examine the darker implications of the American Dream. Through Rico’s tragic journey from poverty to criminal power, the film presents a narrative that resonates deeply with universal aspirations while simultaneously undermining and, ultimately, discrediting them. Robert Warshow’s framing of the gangster as tragic hero perfectly captures this duality – Rico embodies relatable desires for social mobility and respect, yet his only path to achieving these dreams is through violence and crime. Consequently, while officially condemning and invalidating Rico’s methods through his inevitable downfall, the film, I believe, simultaneously suggests something troubling about American society itself. If criminal enterprise becomes the only feasible route to success for some- a success accompanied by inevitable isolation, establishment of enemies and ultimate failure- what does that reveal about the true accessibility of the American Dream? This subversive undertone, coupled with Warshow’s insights about the gangster figure’s inherent despair communicates somewhat of an implicit critique of the American Dream that ultimately becomes digestible to American audiences who experience the falsity of relentless optimism and reality inevitable despair that Warshow discusses.
Tony Camonte’s reckless charisma in Scarface (1932) blurs the line between admiration and condemnation, a tension that fueled censorship debates. I found his character very captivating even during his downfall. I think it was Tony’s captivation that caused much of the censorship debates. It is dangerous for youthful audiences to have an obsession with a violent and power hungry character such as Tony. The article highlights how censors feared that audiences might sympathize with gangsters, forcing the filmmakers to include an anti-crime prologue. Yet, despite these efforts, Tony remains compelling, exposing the allure of criminal power even within a supposed cautionary tale.
The film also mirrors 1930s anxieties about organized crime’s grip on society. Tony’s rapid ascent, fueled by corruption and brutality, reflects real fears that gangsters operated with impunity, shaping a world where violence dictated success. The article was also interesting when it mentioned how Al Capone has criticized gangster films arguing they inspired youth violence. I keep seeing a disconnect from reality of the gangsters during the time and the realities. Al Capone as mentioned in class saw himself as a business man, but in movies this portrayal of power and a envious life is not an actual reality. I wonder the effect gangster films have on younger generations and how much it encourages a life of violence even though that life might not be depicted correctly in the movies.
One of the coolest things about Scarface is how the visuals shift as Tony’s life spirals out of control. At the start, Miami is all bright lights and neon colors, showing the excitement of his rise. But as things get darker for him, the movie’s colors and settings reflect that—his world literally becomes smaller and more intense. The “The World Is Yours” sign is another cool touch. It pops up first on a blimp and later in his mansion, symbolizing everything he’s chasing. But in the end, it’s ironic because even though he got everything he wanted, he still loses it all. And the music? That synth-heavy 80s score gives the whole movie this very cool and epic, almost surreal vibe, making Tony’s downfall feel even more dramatic.
Another interesting thing is how Tony isn’t just a straight-up villain—he’s got his own twisted sense of morals. He’ll kill without hesitation, but he refuses to murder a man in front of his kids, even though it puts his own life at risk. That moment gives him a tiny shred of humanity, making him more complex than just a typical crime boss. His weird obsession with his sister, Gina, also stands out. He’s super overprotective, but it’s not just about control—it shows that no matter how rich and powerful he gets, he’s still stuck in his past. He can’t let go, and that insecurity plays a huge role in his downfall. Scarface isn’t just about drugs and violence; it’s a deep look at how ambition, paranoia, and ego can totally destroy someone.
Scarface is a gangster film that focuses on Italian mobsters in the 1920s. While I had seen the Al Pacino 1983 remake, I had not yet watched the original made in 1932. Therefore, I found it very interesting to read Chris Yogerst’s piece contextualizing the original film. As discussed in class, the film puts us in an ambiguous position: Is the audience meant to condemn the gangster or identify with him. To me, part of what makes “gangster” films so exciting is that they represent a whole other world that is hard for mass audiences to relate to in more modern times. However, Yogerst explained that because the film was made during the Great Depression, “the gangster was a relatable figure… [and] expresses that part of the American psyche which rejects the qualities and demands of… ‘Americanism’” (134). It’s fascinating that the popularity of the original film is due to the “relatableness” of the gangsters that today seem completely out of touch with mass audiences. Another component of the original film I had not known about was the censorship it faced. The reading explained how Scarface had “more censor intervention than any other film,” (136). Moreover, the censorship was because the film was seen as an endorsement or celebration of criminals. Even the New York Police Commissioner commented on how the gangsters are “glorified” in the film. Today, censorship is an often-discussed topic, especially considering how many more forms of media there are today. So, I think the parallels are interesting between Scarface and today’s discussions of censorship when it comes to art and media.
I truly admire Hawks for sticking his ground and believing in the raw honesty of his story, despite many attempts at censorship. The violence was so constant and casual in this film; the whistling at the start of the movie paralleled with the whistling of Tony as he goes to kill Rinaldo shows just how easy murdering was for these men. Nonetheless, Hawks deals with issues of morality very well not just through use of creative shadows and off-screen killings, but also by creating a very meta experience. Mirroring how Warner Bros. produced “headline-driven crime pictures”, powerful scenes in the film speak directly to the audience in proving the harm that this glorification of gangsters has; more importantly, it issues a call for action by not diffusing responsibility to the cops or the government, but the people – which I thought was very unique in comparison to past mob stories. However, Scarface did share aspects with archetypes of similar stories. For example, I found it noteworthy that both this and Little Caesar had a strong motif of a billboard to draw connections to the American Dream. Yet to avoid the audience completely relating to such a dark figure, like we discussed in class, Scarface too showed the dangers of over-ambition when it comes to the American Dream, ending with the tragedy of our “hero” dying once again. This also could suggest that these criminals’ only form of retribution is through death, a lesson the censorship-advocates would gladly support. A relationship I found particularly interesting in Scarface was that of Tony and Cesca. This reminded me of Michael and Connie’s dynamic in The Godfather, both sisters resenting their brothers for murdering their loved ones. Hawks handles gender dynamics very well in his film in ways that pay tribute to real-life events.
Scarface (1932) is probably the most intense gangster film I’ve seen so far. Unlike The Public Enemy and Little Caesar, which framed the protagonist’s rise and fall within more structured crime networks, Scarface feels more chaotic and less about the organization of the mafia family and more about raw, unfiltered ambition. Tony Camonte, like Rico and Tom Powers, embodies the classic rise-and-fall trajectory we’ve talked about in class, but his fall is almost more self-inflicted. He doesn’t just overreach but instead feels like he completely spirals, destroying everything in his path, including his own empire. What struck me the most after reading Yogerst’s article was how much Scarface challenged the censors of film. We’ve talked before about how gangster films reflect real anxieties, especially during Prohibition, but this film made those fears too real. The Hays Office and city censors saw it as outright dangerous, forcing a lot of edits and even alternate endings. It reminds me of what we discussed with The Public Enemy with how films shape public perceptions of crime. Hollywood wanted to sell excitement, but it also had to control the message, making sure audiences saw crime as something to condemn and not something to glorify. Another continued theme that stood out to me in this movie was the shift from the Sicilian countryside origins of the mafia to its transformation in American cities. Scarface leans heavily into this, showing how violence isn’t just a tool but more of a way of life for Tony. Compared to The Godfather, where there’s at least some illusion of honor and structure, Scarface makes it clear that power in the American underworld is chaotic, brutal, and ultimately self-destructive.
The first thing that struck me when watching Scarface was that the starting screen of the film makes a similar claim to Warner Bro’s framing of Little Cesar as a “moral crusade.” The text reads: “this picture is an indictment of gang rule in America and of the callous indifference of the government to this constantly increasing menace to our safety and liberty.” By presenting the film as such, the producers seem to be saying that this film is almost a form of social advocacy.
I have never paid much attention to the opening scene of a film, but after discussing the similarities and differences between the opening scenes of Public Enemy and Little Cesar, the opening of Scarface caught my attention. I thought it was interesting how similar to the opening of Public Enemy, the viewer receives a scan of the surrounding world. Furthermore, the camera starts focusing on individuals, we follow one person for a significant period of time (the cleaner), before focusing on and “finding” the true main characters of the scene. This was also similar to Public Enemy when the camera seems to be following random people until we find the two boys stepping out onto the street together.
The opening scene also has a perfect display of Irony a story telling element we were discussing in class on Monday. Just minutes before Big Louie Costillo is murdered he is talking to the group of men about how successful he has been. He sounds like he may be the perfect example of someone who succeeded at achieving the elusive “American Dream” when he says “look at me — a man…I got plenty. I got the house, I got the automobile, I got the girl.” It’s quite ironic that right after making such a gloating statement, he is shot and killed, proving that he is clearly not all that successful.
Scarface was a great and interesting film. It was particularly intense and had great violence throughout. I particularly found it interesting that the reading discussed the censorship of the film. I felt as though the film was quite overwhelmingly violent or full of gunshots, so I was surprised it was known as a censored film in any capacity. I also found the text at the beginning of the film interesting because it called on the people and the government asking, “what are you going to do about [gang violence]”. Instead of the film just showing this violence it rather focused on the social commentary of the power of the people in changing societal issues. I also found Tony Camonte’s character very interesting throughout the film. Tony was the leader of violence throughout the film, however the one person he was protective over was his sister, Cesca. His character is rather hypocritical because he wants to protect Cesca however he is exactly who he is trying to protect her from, which is an interesting dichotomy. It is also Tony who is the reason Cesca ends up dead. If Tony was not picking a fight the way he conducted business, they would have never been put in a situation where Tony was the target. Also it seems that Tony was going a bit crazy when he was shutting the bullet proof shutters, his actions yet again put him in a sticky situation. While he was not paying attention a bullet hit off the mental and that is what killed Cesca. Therefore, while trying to protect her, he is the reason she dies.
Watching the 1932 Scarface after already seeing the modern version was an interesting experience. While I knew the general story, an ambitious gangster rising to power and ultimately falling victim to his own excess, didn’t realize how different the original film was in style and message from the Al Pacino version. Unlike the flashy, drug-fueled chaos of the 1983 version, the original Scarface is a gritty, street level crime story that was so controversial it nearly got banned.
Chris Yogerst’s article explains how Scarface (1932) became a major censorship battle. Hollywood was under pressure to clean up its films, and authorities feared that showing gangsters as powerful figures would encourage crime. The film was edited multiple times to add an anti-gangster message, and at one point, they even tried renaming it Shame of a Nation. But Howard Hughes, the film’s producer, fought back, arguing that Scarface wasn’t glorifying crime and instead was exposing it.
What stood out most to me was how both versions of Scarface reflect their time periods. The 1932 version, made during the Great Depression, presents gangsters as violent figures of a broken system, while the 1983 version, made during the height of the drug trade, turns Tony Montana into a symbol of greed and excess. These films next to each other showcase how this particular genre has changed over time.
Having never seen Al Pacino’s Scarface remake, I was able to go into watching the original Scarface with no expectations, which I think was beneficial for me. I was not expecting the details that are given by using modern technology as I might have if I had seen the 1983 remake. I thought it was interesting reading the text after having watched the movie because it gave me context, but didn’t give me too many expectations when I watched the movie. I really had no idea about the movie before seeing it, as I do not tend to enjoy violent films and therefore have not seen many mafia movies. Scarface being so heavily censored does not surprise me particularly, given the time. Many reforms were being made to regulate the population’s consumption, like prohibition. Prohibition, spanning from 1920-1933, ended one year after this movie was released, and exemplified a similar censorship to that of gangster films, and were reflective of policies such as these. I was surprised that the article so briefly mentioned prohibition, because I feel that the link is very strong to the attitudes of the time. The themes in Scarface that reflect the reality of the United States at the time are ones that the government would want to hide, because the people watching the movies will then be tempted to mirror the actions in these films. With violent films such as these, it is understandable that the government had a desire to censor. I should add a caveat that I do not support this censorship, just as I do not support prohibition, but I do understand the motivation behind it. Today we see a lot of research that connects the rise in violent video games to school shootings and children being more violent, and there are similar regulations being considered today.
The concepts Robert Warshow outlines in The Gangster as Tragic Hero are well reflected in Howard Hawks’ Scarface (1932). Following the same pattern as the mobster, Tony Camonte rises through unbridled ambition and brutality only to be devastated by the exact success he pursued. The gangster movie, according to Warshow, represents a deeper worry in American society: our combined fear and adoration of ambition.
Tony’s demise appears to be inevitable throughout Scarface. He is isolated because of his violent tendencies, power fixation, and possessiveness for Cesca. According to Warshow, the gangster’s success renders him an outlaw in both a legal and psychological sense because he must live alone at the top, which makes his downfall inevitable. Tony’s last scene under the neon sign “The World Is Yours” serves as further evidence of this, a bitter irony that serves as a reminder that power is fleeting and that success is ultimately “evil and dangerous,” in Warshow’s words.
Scarface is especially captivating because it dispels any doubt that the gangster can ever “win.” According to Warshow, the gangster’s story is one of unavoidable failure due to the nature of ambition itself rather than his criminal activity. Not only is Tony’s demise a retribution for his acts of aggression, but it also serves as evidence that power isolates people and that the same traits that make someone successful also make them prone to fail. Warshow’s thesis is ultimately concluded in his last moments, when he is isolated and cornered: the gangster exists to serve as a reminder that success always comes with a price, and that price is always death.
I struggled to understand the scene after Tony killed Gino; he left the building looking traumatized, sick, even intoxicated. Was he overcome by guilt that he killed a friend? Was he shocked because he discovered Gino and Cesca were actually married and nothing scandalous was occurring? Or did he realize he was wrong once he saw how devastated his sister appeared? One of the most compelling scenes of the film was when Cesca did not kill Tony and instead told him that they are, in fact, the same. I resonated to this scene as I was frustrated when Tony would mistreat Cesca for behaving the exact way he would. They were both flirts, stubborn, passionate, and independent. Although I am unsure if Cesca should have killed Tony, his manic acceptance of her fearlessness during their childlike reunion to kill the cops (when he was trying to make her afraid and ashamed throughout the entire film) was a powerful scene. I completely understand the censorship issues discussed in “The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface” as I was shocked by several of the scenes. For instance, when Tony opens the door to Cesca kissing the man or when he rips the strap of her dress and reveals her covered breast. While I agree with the director that censorship can violate the American right to freedom of expression, I was still surprised that these overtly sexual scenes were released in 1931. Another interesting recurring theme in mafia movies is not only a love interest that represents wealth and class, but her complete unawareness of the mafia man’s death. This was also seen in Public Enemy and it is essentially a loose end that is never finished, as if it was not important enough to complete (even though it is some of the most interesting plots of the films).
Like some of my classmates, I had not seen the later remake of Scarface before watching this original edition of the film. After watching, I did further research on the film and was surprised to see how this film resonated with society at the time. This movie sets a very clear foundation for mafia movies that would follow for decades to come. Its stereotypical principles which include an immigrant criminal, loyalty/betrayal, and an eventual demise characterize so much of this genre. I though that this film was unique, though, because it has a very different style than what we have watched so far. When I watched Scarface, it seemed much more raw and intense than other films. Obviously, it was more violent as well which led to censorship and anti-crime messaging in the film, but this seemed to create a main character which became a folk legend of sorts. It was interesting to see in my research how people became fascinated with sensationalized mafia characters like this, and how films like Scarface had to straddle a fine line when it came to a more bold and possibly “glorifying” representation of the mafia and criminals. Outside of this, this movie reflected so many of the ideas we have seen in class already through its character building and plot points. From the accent to the emotional reactions and relationships with family members, Scarface provided me with a lot of reinforcing information on early mafia movies and how they came to shape later films.
Before reading Hughes, Hawks, and Hays: The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface (1932) I had no idea that about a third of movies were affected by censorship during the 1930s. Firstly, I found the use of media particularly interesting both within the movie and in real life. In class, we discussed how in movies gangsters were viewed as successful when they were written about in local newspapers. This is evident in Scarface where an entire scene is dedicated to government members discussing whether or not prohibiting further newspaper publishings about the actions of gangsters will actually stop them from committing violent acts. With a roundtable debate and heightened emotions, the members at the meeting came to no concrete conclusion, which possibly speaks to the real life media representation of gangsters.
Did Scarface boost Al Capone’s perceived success as a gangster like gangsters in the movie felt when they were discussed in newspapers? Scarface was based on Al Capone. Hughes, Hawks, and Hays: The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface (1932) discusses how initially Al Capone was “concerned that the film was pressured into showing the criminal as unattractive.” He even went as far as to propose bans on gangster films in fear of defamation. However, after watching the movie, Al Capone actually enjoyed it and showed interest in it being played in Chicago, telling Hughes, “you can play it anytime you want” (Yogerst). After watching the movie, I believe it still paints the gangster in a negative light (despite the wholesome ending and commitment to family throughout the film). Thus, why did Al Capone’s opinion of the film change if it still painted gangsters as “unattractive”? Did his support for the movie mean that Scarface was a somewhat similar representation of real life gangsters, giving him positive press from the movie?
After watching the movie, I can understand the censorship, especially during a time period in the one this film was released. One of the concepts I’d like to focus on is the underlying message of the American Dream. Camonte’s rise to success is modeled after the American Dream just very obviously more violent. In the beginning of the film, we get a good look and first look at his face in the scene at the barbershop. He looks a bit foreign, with his hair slicked back and a somewhat Italian accent, and let’s not forget the scar. But, as the movie goes on, he becomes more Americanized as his accent seems to dim, and his suits become more fancy. By the end of the movie, his accent is hardly noticeable. Camonte obtains success through various ways such as through a high profile girlfriend, fancy cars and clothes, as well as a fancy apartment. Although Camonte obtains success and riches through violence and illicit activity, the gangster showcases that anybody can live out the American Dream by following his motto, “Do it first, do it yourself, and keep on doing it.” Moreover, the text explains how a lot of the talk and decisions to censor the movie were made because of the films violent nature, but many questioned the real meaning behind the need to censor. The text states, “Most of the gangster films of the day mirrored what was going on in the streets of major cities” (139). I believe that many people in charge wanted to hide the true reality of what life was like in the United States. This movie allowed people to see the true violent and insidious acts that were happening behind closed doors and by censoring this film, they were also censoring the truth.
First, I must commend the filmmakers for standing their ground and defending the film from censorship. I watched the film before reading the article or knowing anything about the censorship battles and at no point did I find Camonte a redeemable or likeable character. Like we discussed in class about Little Caesar, there is no portrayal of Camonte’s childhood which would open the door for sympathy. Instead, we see a man who is willing to kill to get what he wants which ultimately leads to his demise. The worry of the final shootout with his sister at Camonte’s side making him the underdog is undermined by the man we know Camonte to be and his final act of trying to run. In my view, portraying a style of life that leads to the death of you and all your close acquaintances is by no means glorifying.
One scene that particularly stood out was the conversation with the newspaper boss about stopping the coverage of the gang war. With the surrounding censorship battle, the news boss seems to be talking directly to the censorship board and the public when he says, “You’re telling me you can get rid of the gangster by ignoring him… you’re playing right into his hand.” This idea is emphasized when he breaks the fourth wall and looks directly at the camera when delivering part of this statement. This scene served as a defense of the movie and the filmmakers’ goal of portraying reality in order to inspire change.
Like some of my other classmates, one of the things I found most interesting about Scarface was the tension between its brutal depiction of gang violence and the moralizing efforts of the censorship boards. The reading highlights how the film was one of the most heavily censored in Hollywood history, with concerns that it glorified crime and made gangsters seem too sympathetic. Yet, despite efforts to frame Scarface as an indictment of gang rule, audiences were still drawn to Tony Camonte’s ambition and swagger.
This reminded me of Little Caesar, where Rico’s downfall is inevitable, yet he still commands attention. Similarly, Scarface never fully condemns Tony. He’s definitely portrayed as ruthless, but the film never makes him seem weak or pathetic. The reading even mentions how Al Capone, the real-life inspiration for Tony, initially opposed gangster films but later enjoyed Scarface. Maybe he saw something in the character that the censors feared because, despite everything, he remained captivating to watch.
One question I had was if censorship efforts backfire by making Tony even more compelling. If the goal was to deter audiences from idolizing gangsters, did all the controversy surrounding Scarface just make it more appealing?
I found it quite surprising that there were three separate versions of Scarface that made it to the theaters and- in spite of intense censorship measures and regulations- the public still saw the gory version that the government sought to destroy. However, I think that the film’s lack of censorship in such a conservative era is exactly what gives it its power and reinforces its message. Scarface ’32 is often discussed as a landmark gangster film, but the true significance lies in how it survived the intense censorship battle. In spite of the pressure to water the film down, Hughes fought back and ensured that audience saw a version of the film that retained its brutal realism and social critique. Had Scarface been clean, the message of portraying the violence and corruption of organized crime would have lost its impact. Rather than glorifying the gangsters, the film shows the dangers of pursuing such a life. The gore and brutality that people sought to censor are what make the film such a powerful statement for anti-crime. Ultimately, Scarface serves as proof that censorship can dilute meaning rather than enhance it. By resisting the pressure to soften its message, I think that the movie serves its purpose to a much greater extent and can more fondly live in the history books of mafia cinema.
The 1932 Scarface was the first Scarface movie that I had ever seen. Having never watched either the remake nor the sequel, I did not really have an idea as to what I was looking at before watching. All I knew was that it was a gangster film. I believe this gave me an opportunity to experience the purity of the original and allow me to better understand how the censorship was necessary during the film’s time. Given that I read Chris Yogerst’s “Hughes, Hawks, and Hays: The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface” after watching the movie, I can understand why the movie needed to be censored, especially given the era it occurs in. With prohibition being a prominent factor and gangster films gaining popularity, I found it interesting that a movie like this was even allowed to be released. Scarface is a particularly violent film, depicting all sorts of gang violence, shootings, and consequences that follow the idea that there are many ways in but no way out, especially given the final scene of the movie where Camonte tries to escape but is blocked off at every exit. I can see how the film is one of the most heavily censored films because with all the gun violence, disobedience towards the cops, and general lack of morality, the audience might begin to follow what the film portrays, leading to more chaos in an era already packed with mayhem. I do wonder about what would have happened if the heavy censorship of Scarface backfired and caused a more driven population that idolized Camonte and the gangster life instead of deterring it and making it seem repulsive.
Tommy vs Rico vs Tony – I like Tommy best
The three movies The Public Enemy, Little Caesar, and Scarface have a lot in common. But the way they portray their protagonists differ in some ways that, to me, made me more empathetic towards Tommy in The Public Enemy. It starts in how the characters are introduced: Tommy as a smart aleck kid vs Rico and Tony as young adult hoodlums already. You see Tommy’s rough background and neighborhood which could make one more sympathetic to his taking the wrong moral path as lead by the “Dickensian Faganesque” Puffy Nose.
While all three are ruthless in their eliminating competition on their way to the top, their falls are very different. Tommy takes on almost a suicide mission against the Burns gang because they had shot down his buddy Matt, a crazy but selfless act. After he is shot by them, he gets kidnapped by that gang while he is recovering in the hospital. They end up desecrating his body and delivering it to his family home. He was killed by the bad guys and had his body disrespected and laid at the house of his mother and brother.
Rico’s demise is very different. First, instead of defending his buddy, he actually kills him. Second, his fall sends him to the gutter where he’s a bum in a flop house. Third, in his death scene, he’s hiding behind a sign and is killed by the police (the good guys).
Tony’s falling is much like Rico’s. He kills a good friend Ricardo for being with his sister, not knowing that they had been married. When the final shootout comes, he gets his sister killed, and then begs for mercy from the cops. Hardly an honorable way to go for a gangster.
So, Tommy was lead a stray as a kid, took revenge for the bad guys killing his friend, and died at the hands of the bad guys. Rico and Tony, we only meet as hoodlums who grew into gangsters, killed their friends, and died inauspiciously at the hands of the cops (the good guys).
I’ll take Tommy.
After watching Scarface, the vast censorship efforts come as no surprise to me given the absurd amount of violence, as well as the glorification of the gangster lifestyle. Between the drugs, violence, language, etc. there are plenty of factors that resulted in this movie raising alarms. Now that I have context from the article and the movie, the most interesting thing to me is how the film depicts Tony, and how films depict gangsters in todays media.
The glorification of “the gangster” is something that I see all the time in modern film from shows like Narcos and Peaky Blinders. With this class giving historical context to the rise of mafia media it seems that Scarface really set the tone for that type of “violent gangster film”. While the movie definitely depicts what many would consider negatives of this lifestyle, Tony is still a dynamic character that draws the audience in, similar to the leads in the shows I mentioned. To add on, these modern shows that I mentioned aren’t actual mafia films, yet they both reflect similar values such as family, loyalty, honor, and revenge while representing entirely different cultures.
With that said, the censorship battle surrounding Scarface seems to have put it on an even higher pedestal than it would be without the censoring. Again, I understand why the efforts were made and there is certainly good reason for controversy, but the subject matter is just too popular to the masses. Thus, the extra publicity the film gained from the controversy may have helped it set the tone for gangster films for the following century.
While reading “Hughes, Hawks, and Hays: The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface”, I was thinking about how the efforts to control and censor gangster pictures seem counterproductive and might have even further perpetuated the harmful glorification of the gangster that they sought to prevent. Firstly, I think the censorship battle as a whole likely reinforced the culture industry’s creation of the gangster persona as a story of the American Dream because it further associates the gangster with an individual who fights against authority or unjust power structures and rises to power despite the obstacles he faces.
More specifically, the antigun sentiment around Scarface mentioned in the reading reminded me of the “moral crusade” of the producers that we discussed in class on Monday with regard to Little Caesar. This was a strategic move for the makers of Scarface because in blaming guns and pro-gun lawmakers for the crime that the film is based on, they can somewhat shift the responsibility away from the film’s gangster characters (and themselves, as the people who created these characters). In doing this, audiences could potentially identify more with the film’s characters, whose actions become a product of a context in which guns are readily available rather than their own ruthless criminality. When later watching Scarface, I felt the opening statement had this same displacement of responsibility away from gangsters themselves and onto lawmakers in its statement that the picture is an indictment “of the callous indifference of the government to this constantly increasing menace to our safety and our liberty” and in questioning what the government will do about it.
While reading “Hughes, Hawks, and Hays: The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface”, I was thinking about how the efforts to control and censor gangster pictures seem counterproductive and might have even further perpetuated the harmful glorification of the gangster that they sought to prevent. Firstly, I think the censorship battle as a whole likely reinforced the culture industry’s creation of the gangster persona as a story of the American Dream because it further associates the gangster with an individual who fights against authority or unjust power structures and rises to power despite the obstacles he faces.
More specifically, the antigun sentiment around Scarface mentioned in the reading reminded me of the “moral crusade” of the producers that we discussed in class on Monday with regard to Little Caesar. This was a strategic move for the makers of Scarface because in blaming guns and pro-gun lawmakers for the crime that the film is based on, they can somewhat shift the responsibility away from the film’s gangster characters (and themselves, as the people who created these characters). In doing this, audiences could potentially identify more with the film’s characters, whose actions become a product of a context in which guns are readily available rather than their own ruthless criminality. When later watching Scarface, I felt the opening statement had this same displacement of responsibility away from gangsters themselves and onto lawmakers in its statement that the picture is an indictment “of the callous indifference of the government to this constantly increasing menace to our safety and our liberty” and in questioning what the government will do about it.
I found it very interesting how Little Caesar approaches the mafia film genre. While many movies glorify the high paced lifestyle that gangsters live, Little Caesar uses Rico’s journey to highlight how ambition and individualism can lead to greed and isolation. While Rico is a criminal, he remains morally ambiguous, allowing the viewer to feel sympathetic enough to care about how journey, and how the mafia lifestyle is an alternative perspective of the American Dream. His ultimate downfall is visually represented through dark lighting and isolating imagery, as well as the narrative elements that cause it. I think that Scarface serves as a stark contrast to this, embellishing the charismatic and wealthy lifestyle of Tony Camonte.
While the film still ends in the downfall of Camonte, his rapid gain in power reflects the power that comes with becoming a criminal and using violence to achieve his means. The violence of the film draws many similarities with the way in which violence is mass produced and serialized in modern films, with many people drawn to the spectacle of a film that elicits striking reactions. I think that this film served not only as a successful portrayed of violence, but set a precedent for what could be expected from future mafia films.
Scarface exhibits brutal depictions of gang violence that rival many of the edgier films of today, so it is not remotely surprising to me that subsets of the more conservative audiences and critics at the time made a push for censorship in response. The film was released in the pre-Code era, wherein studios were expected to self-regulate to preserve Second Amendment protections on speech. However, Scarface received increased scrutiny, with many raising concerns about the potential glorification of gang violence (as it was a borderline direct depiction of Al Capone) and the broad lack of moral consequence in the film for criminal behavior. In response, multiple versions of the film were created with varying levels of violence and disclaimers. Despite these changes, many states completely rejected the film, resulting in Scarface’s legacy as one of the most heavily censored films to date.
Growing up, my friend loved this movie, so it’s interesting to learn more about its history as a tool to increase government involvement in the censorship of films. One question I have is this: how does the reaction to this film reflect the movement toward puritanism (especially with regards to criminal activity) during the Great Depression?
After watching Scarface, I was struck by how effectively the film explores the role of the mafia in American culture. Through Tony Camonte’s rise and fall, the film reflects the real-life influence of figures like Al Capone, who dominated Chicago’s criminal world in the 1920s and 1930s. Camonte’s ruthless ambition and violent rise mirror the mafia’s expansion, highlighting themes of greed, power, and corruption.
One of the things I found to be most apparent was the film’s critique of the romanticized image of the mafia. While Camonte is charismatic and his portrayal exaggerated, his unchecked ambition ultimately leads to his downfall, showing the self-destructive nature of organized crime. The film doesn’t shy away from depicting the brutality of the mafia, demonstrating how violence and betrayal are central to its operations. At the same time, it subtly comments on the societal conditions that allowed the mafia to thrive, such as Prohibition and the economic desperation of the Great Depression.
Ultimately, Scarface is not just about one man’s rise and fall; it is an exploration of how crime is both glorified and feared in American society. The film forces us to confront the darker side of ambition and how that leads to the systemic failures that enable criminal enterprises. By portraying the mafia as more than just a criminal organization, but instead as a reflection of lawlessness and corruption, Scarface remains a powerful and relevant cautionary tale about the consequences of unchecked power.
The 1932 Scarface film and its interplay with censorship in the pre-Code era are emblematic of the conflict between gangster-style movies and a movement against films that sought to represent the lives of real gangsters. As Yogerst explained, the film was caught in a prolonged struggle with the MPPDA, with producer Howard Hughes facing pressure to tone down the film’s violent portrayal of crime. The censorship battle surrounding Scarface illustrates the broader anxieties of the early 1930s including concerns about the glorification of gangsters, the impact of crime films on young Americans, and calls for more stringent regulation of Hollywood content.
As Yogerst points out, Scarface’s connection to Al Capone made it more controversial than other films because it was viewed as a film that engendered sympathy in the audience for real criminals and justified violence. The film closely mirrored real-life organized crime in Chicago and was argued by regulatory bodies to be a potential incitement to lawless actions.
Tony Camonte embodies the reckless ambition and downfall that is typical of gangster protagonists and reinforces Warshow’s description of the “American gangster myth.” While it was argued that Scarface would glorify crime, the movie also showed the true violence and ruthlessness of the mafia world that was fueled by poor economic conditions and prohibition. Furthermore, Camonte’s downfall shows that despite how much power an individual gains in the mafia world, the ambition and greed that enables such power is often what ensures its collapse. This was the typical gangster movie arc, but was more than a movie that glorified the. mafia. I wonder what the free speech movement had to say about the censorship actions taken by the movie regulatory bodies in the first half of the 20th century.
Like some of my other classmates, I have not watched the 1983 remake of Scarface. Going into this film, I did not know exactly what to expect, but it wound be being really interesting to see how it shared many of the similar principles we have explored that clearly build the foundation of future movies in this genre. In Scarface, the idea of an immigrant criminal with bold emotional reactions and family relationships is clear. What made this film unique to me, though, was the connection it had with society at the time. I did not know about the censorship around this movie, and was interested to learn why it contained anti-crime messaging at the beginning. The seeming sensationalizing of the mafia and colorful representations of crime/violence really stuck out to me in this film. These ideas made the main character, although stereotypical in many ways, a folk legend of sorts. To me, this film also stuck out because of the style in which it was filmed. It seemed a lot more raw and personal, which I think helped add to its intensity overall. (**my original blog post disappeared so I tried to rewrite it here as best as possible– hopefully the original shows up**)
The cost of greed. In The Godfather Part II, we witness Vito’s innate passion and endless desire for retaliation for the murder of his father, mother, and brother and his eventual rise to kill Don Ciccio and become the Corleone. In acting out of arrogance and obsession, these mafia bosses often are the cause of their own demises. It is a complex and engaging reflection on power and wealth and the corrupting forces that accompany them. Moreover, we see in Michael’s story that, despite becoming head of the Corleone family, he is more alone than ever. His brother betrays him (“breaking [his] heart”), assassins are sent after him, and even his wife decides to get an abortion because she doesn’t want to bring another Corleone child into the world. This is the true cost of revenge. It is messy and complex and never easy. Despite Vito being able to eventually achieve his goal, Michael’s aloneness is a true reflection of the real world. As Quentin Tarantino put it, “Revenge is messy. It never works out the way you want it.” While Michael was able to find the mole, he lost his brother and Kay in the process. What’s the point of success if there is no one to share it with? The Public Enemy, too, demonstrates the cost of violence, and Tom’s lifeless body being dropped off at his family’s house shows the inevitable consequences of these actions catching up to him. Moreover, in Poor Little Peppina, we see innocents who are caught in the crossfire and how greed can take countless tortuous forms (i.e., in Godfather Part III, Mary is killed instead of Michael–his ultimate punishment). With government crackdowns and rival gangs, a culture of “manoera” (as John Dickie puts it) bred a culture of messy and cruel revenge that would lead to wars of attrition in which each side would lose the things most important to them in the process of often achieving materialistic and immature goals.
The corruption of the American dream is a particularly interesting point in the films from this week. Witnessing Rico’s obsession with power and wealth that breeds paranoia and, ultimately, his death and seeing Tony Camonte’s incestuous fixation with his sister and desire to be number one leads to his brutal death; we see that crime indeed does not pay. However, it is this idea of the American dream that I found to be a point of contention. As Warshow puts it, the gangster is a representation of the dark side of the American Dream (the securing of power and wealth through immoral means) in a capitalist society that prizes ambition above all else and that this idea of gangster is, in fact, the truest form of success–albeit entirely individualistic. This dark American dream breeds endless fixations on power and wealth for these underdog immigrants and shows a duality to our traditional thinking of what success means. To the mafia, it means control through various means (financial primarily). For the traditional thinker, it means providing for oneself and their loved ones. While not entirely different, it is interesting that society in the 1930s (through Hays) tried to distance itself from these “immoral” crimes, even renaming the film Scarface: The Shame of the Nation. Perhaps the mafia interpretation of the American dream isn’t entirely wrong, but rather a brutally honest reflection on greed and capitalism. Perhaps our traditional view of the American dream is idealistic and morally silly. Perhaps the mafia view is an authentic view of the world and a recognition of the need to do anything to get to the top (what often actually happens). Regardless, it is interesting that in these films, the persistent message is that crime doesn’t pay and that these means will not be tolerated (despite the fact that violence and corruption were used to bribe and claim power in those times quite frequently).
One of my favorite little details in Scarface (1932) is how often the film sneaks in an “X” whenever someone is about to die. It’s cast as a shadow, formed by street signs, or even in the way things are arranged in the background. It’s kind of a weirdly modern touch, almost like a horror movie foreshadowing its kills, and it makes the whole movie feel more doom-laden than Little Caesar or The Public Enemy. Those movies focus more on the gangster’s personality flaws leading to their downfall, but Scarface takes it a step further—Tony’s fate feels like the world itself is setting him up to fail. Another detail that makes Scarface stand out is how completely unhinged Tony is about power. A lot of gangsters in early films want status or wealth, but Tony just wants to dominate—over his rivals, over his own people, even over his sister in the weirdest, most possessive way possible. It’s not just about money but instead it’s about control. This makes Scarface feel different from other early gangster films because it’s not just a crime story, instead it’s a full-on critique of excess, greed, and unchecked ambition. The film is constantly throwing in symbols of luxury like big cars, fancy suits, giant mansions but instead of making them look cool, it makes them feel hollow and dangerous. By the time Tony is holed up in his fortress, fighting off the world, you can tell it was never about winning. It was just about taking as much as possible until everything collapsed around him.
Howard Hawk’s Scarface (1932) portrayal of gangster violence sparked one of the most intense censorship battles of the era. As discussed in Chris Yogerst’s Hughes, Hawks, and Hays: The Monumental Censorship Battle Over Scarface (1932), the film’s creators were forced to find new ways to imply rather than explicitly depict violence. Hawk uses fluid tracking shots, deep-focus cinematography, and expressive framing to enact dynamic storytelling. Scarface employs constantly moving cameras to mirror the restless, unpredictable nature of its protagonist, Tony Camonte. An example of this is the restaurant assassination scene, where the camera pans to the front door just before gunfire erupts. Rather than showing the violence explicitly, Hawks cuts to the victims’ horrified expressions and the shattered glass, maintaining the viscerality of the violence without having to show it on screen. This indirect approach allowed Scarface to maintain its raw intensity while avoiding explicit depictions of murder—an essential strategy given the scrutiny of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association and Will Hays. The Reign of Terror montage showing a collection of newspaper headlines, gunfire, and cups that show Camonte’s rise to power, exemplifies how Hawks used montage to suggest violence rather than show it outright–a crucial strategy in the censorship battle. The film and gangster films as a whole were also criticized for making their protagonists too charismatic. The film’s editing style underscores the consequences of criminality. The use of montage functions to deter from unchecked violence–giving it a moralizing message. The censorship battle over Scarface may have forced changes but it also pushed Hawks to refine his cinematography. Through inventive camera movement and rapid montage, the film managed to retain its intensity while sidestepping censorship.
Given the impact of the Production Code on Scarface, do you think the film ultimately critiques or glamorizes gangster culture? How does its visual style shape this interpretation?
The lawlessness and poverty in post-World War II Sicily provided ample opportunities for the mafia to reclaim power and influence. I thought that this idea of the American forces being so hyper-focused on the elimination of communism rather than corruption as a whole is particularly interesting. Operation Husky (the Allied Invasion of Sicily) was only successful due to the help of local mafia leaders, and it is a particularly striking dilemma to think that the American forces traded one evil for a “lesser” one. I also think that in the light of the war, we are able to see a different side of the mafia: a rebellious, anti-authoritarian group of freedom fighters. For instance, Salvatore Giuliano acts like a Robin Hood-style bandit, extorting landowners and giving proceeds to the poor and impoverished. While seemingly altruistic, let us not forget the Portella della Ginestra Massacre, which was supposedly perpetrated by Giuliano and his gang but was truly a warning to prevent further left-wing political success in post-war Italy. It is interesting to see the mafia involved in such political matters, and I wonder if the United States would have been (behind closed doors) supportive of Giuliano’s actions. These acts allow us to see a different side of history that is less black and white and provide us the chance to question the true intentions of one’s actions. Like Salvatore Giuliano in his banditry, was the United States truly pure in its intentions to rid Italy of the Axis forces and eventually communism, or was it just another grab for power and control? Nonetheless, it is fascinating to see the parallels between these seemingly completely opposite forces and how often the organizations we condemn the most have the most in common with ourselves.
One of the themes from class that I think can really be seen in this week’s Dickie reading and Francesco Rosi’s “Salvatore Giuliano” (1961) is the “myth” of the Mafia and the sensational over-dramatization of historical truth. As the reading shows, a clear example of this is the myth around the Sicilian Mafia’s resurgence during and after World War II.
One of the most enduring legends is that of Don Calo and Lucky Luciano, the imprisoned American mobster who supposedly orchestrated a deal with the U.S. government to assist the Allied invasion of Sicily. While no hard evidence proves Luciano personally set foot in Sicily or brokered a deal for his freedom in exchange for Mafia cooperation, he did collaborate with U.S. naval intelligence in New York. Nonetheless, this legend has provided a convenient way for many to shift blame for the Mafia’s revival onto foreign interference rather than internal corruption.
What is indisputable, however, is that as Mussolini’s government fell and the Americans dismantled the fascist apparatus, a power vacuum emerged—one that the Mafia swiftly filled. The postwar Italian government didn’t just tolerate the Mafia; it worked with it, cementing its power. This is the backdrop against which Salvatore Giuliano rose to prominence.
Rather than making a traditional biopic, Rosi presents Giuliano as an absence—his death a mystery, his role in politics ambiguous. The film explores how Giuliano, initially a bandit, became entangled in the violent political struggles of postwar Sicily, including the infamous Portella della Ginestra massacre. As this film and Dickie show, the Mafia did not just emerge from wartime conspiracies alone but from a deeply rooted system of corruption, political convenience, and calculated violence. The real history is once again different from cultural myths.
John Dickie’s War and Rebirth 1943-1950 from Cosa Nostra examines the resurgence of the Sicilian Mafia in the wake of WWII. He explores how the collapse of Facism, the Allied invasion of Sicily, and the postwar political instability created conditions that allowed the Mafia to regain power after being weakened under Mussolini’s regime. Francesco Rosi’s Salvatore Giuliano similarly addresses Sicily’s socio-political landscape, but through the lens of Salvatore Giuliano. Rather than following a traditional structure, the film shifts its focus to the circumstances surrounding Giuliano’s rise and fall, aligning with the conventions of investigative cinema. Rosi exposes the entanglement of politics and organized crime in postwar Italy, particularly the Sicilian separatist movement, the Mafia, and various political factions. Giuliano’s political maneuvering—his relationships with authorities, separatists, and Mafia figures—is given context by Dickie’s analysis of how the Mafia strategically aligned itself with Christian Democracy to suppress the rise of communism in Sicily. Both the film and the reading emphasize that the Mafia was not merely a criminal organization, but a systemic force embedded in politics, law enforcement, and the economy. Rosi’s portrayal of Giuliano as an elusive underscores this idea. The film rarely shows Giuliano alive, reinforcing that he was a pawn in a much larger system of power rather than an independent actor. This aligns with Dickie’s argument that the Mafia’s strength came not just from violence but from its ability to infiltrate institutions and integrate itself into Sicilian society.
How does Francesco Rosi’s fragmented, documentary-style narrative influence the audience’s understanding of historical analysis in the film?
In what ways did the Mafia’s resurgence after WWII depend on political alliances and systemic instability rather than individual criminal actions?
The Portella della Ginestra massacre is a pivotal event in both the film and Dickie’s historical account. How do different portrayals of this event shape our interpretation of who was responsible and why it occurred?
John Dickie’s War and Rebirth 1943-1950 from Cosa Nostra examines the resurgence of the Sicilian Mafia in the wake of WWII. He explores how the collapse of Facism, the Allied invasion of Sicily, and the postwar political instability created conditions that allowed the Mafia to regain power after being weakened under Mussolini’s regime. Francesco Rosi’s Salvatore Giuliano similarly addresses Sicily’s socio-political landscape, but through the lens of Salvatore Giuliano. Rather than following a traditional structure, the film shifts its focus to the circumstances surrounding Giuliano’s rise and fall, aligning with the conventions of investigative cinema. Rosi exposes the entanglement of politics and organized crime in postwar Italy, particularly the Sicilian separatist movement, the Mafia, and various political factions. Giuliano’s political maneuvering—his relationships with authorities, separatists, and Mafia figures—is given context by Dickie’s analysis of how the Mafia strategically aligned itself with Christian Democracy to suppress the rise of communism in Sicily. Both the film and the reading emphasize that the Mafia was not merely a criminal organization, but a systemic force embedded in politics, law enforcement, and the economy. Rosi’s portrayal of Giuliano as an elusive underscores this idea. The film rarely shows Giuliano alive, reinforcing that he was a pawn in a much larger system of power rather than an independent actor. This aligns with Dickie’s argument that the Mafia’s strength came not just from violence but from its ability to infiltrate institutions and integrate itself into Sicilian society.
How does Francesco Rosi’s fragmented, documentary-style narrative influence the audience’s understanding of historical analysis in the film?
In what ways did the Mafia’s resurgence after WWII depend on political alliances and systemic instability rather than individual criminal actions?
The Portella della Ginestra massacre is a pivotal event in both the film and Dickie’s historical account. How do different portrayals of this event shape our interpretation of who was responsible and why it occurred?
I found it interesting how both the movie and the reading explored how folklore shapes criminals into larger-than-life characters. While Scarface, Little Caesar, and The Public Enemy, portrayed how the mafioso elevates himself to a god-like mentality, Salvatore Giuliano illustrate how the public perception of the criminal creates an inflated view of his influence and power. By not showing Giuliano alive, the film moves the focus from his character to the actual impact of his actions on the surrounding town. Additionally, as the Dickie notes, Rosi highlights the irony of Giuliano’s stage death scene, specifically the coverup of his less-than-respectable murder. The choice to stage Giuliano’s death itself is illustrative of how both the mafia and government harness and manipulate the story the media tells to portray themselves in the position of power.
One thing I found particularly interesting was the US government’s collaboration with the mafia at the end of WWII, as well as how the fall of communism primed the rise of organized crime as a means of political control. However, the histories seem complicated by the unreliable retellings of events and the tendency toward aggrandizement over time.
Via both the film and the John Dickie reading for this week its particularly evident that the Mafia (in Sicily at the very least) was extremely malleable and constantly adapting to retain any of its influence within a much broader context. I believe that this constant evolution and adaptation by the mafia to leverage different political factions and organized groups in order to ground itself created a bit of confusion and blurred lines regarding on which side of history the mafia resided. I think this is also reflected in the film with the non-chronological story telling and the embedded ambiguity especially regarding Giuliano’s death. Another thing I found interesting about the film was how the mafia was never necessarily depicted as a juxtaposition to the authority and was very often seen operating as a tool for the authorities which blurs the lines between traditional authority figures and the mafia, revealing just how deeply corruption ran in Italian politics at the time.
I found the film Salvatore Giuliano to be an interesting contrast to the earlier American films we have watched the past couple of weeks. Unlike the other films which followed the lives of fictional characters in a linear manner, Salvatore Giuliano displays Salvatore’s life in a non-linear fashion, documenting his career all while Salvatore, as a character, is, for the most part, absent. Through the absence of Salvatore, the focus of the film seems to shift from just Salvatore and his life to the context in which he lived. This context–post World War II Sicily–was integral for the reestablishment and expansion of the Mafia in Sicilian politics and economics. As explained in the Dickie reading, all of the political shifts allowed for Mafiosi to strengthen connections with politicians, assume political roles, and control local economies. Additionally, the reading presents Salvatore Giuliano as an example of banditry that was resurging and ultimately declining in Sicily. The reading describes Salvatore as mythologized almost as a Robin Hood character. The mythological element comes across well in the film as Salvatore’s mysterious presence and influence reverberate throughout the town all the while he is almost untrackable and he is barely seen on the screen. It is interesting how, despite his absence, the film is still able to depict the potency of Salvatore’s actions as well as the tense relationship between bandits, the Mafia, and the government.
For Monday Feb 10th: While reading the chapter “War and Rebirth” by John Dickie, I found the legend of the Sicilian Mafia helping the American troops defeat the Italian Fascists in WW 2 to be very entertaining. This paints a picture of the Sicilian Mafia that is influential in politics but also innovative, resourceful, and kind as they are looking out for the people of Sicily. By helping the American’s invade Italy and take down the Fascists, as the legend goes, the Mafia was liberating the Sicilian people from the disparity that they faced under fascism. This legend is one of countless stories, myths, and legends that surrounds the Mafia in Sicily, in America, and globally. In class I would like to dive more into the how these myths and legends impact the idea of the mafia. As we have discussed in class, these myths are spread around towns and cities, published in newspapers due to the mystery, shock, and awe surrounding them, and then are eventually turned into famous pop culture movies and books. As discussed within the readings, the Italian culture is heavily impacted and swayed by conspiracy theories around WW 2 and has continued into folk tales and legends. How has the experience of fascism, the Catholic Church, and the mafia impacted myths and legends surrounding the mafia in Italy compared to the stories of the mafia within the US? Not only would I like to learn/discuss more about the impact of myths/legends/stories of the mafia in Italy and the US, but I would also be interested to see the connection between the myths creating an idea of the mafia and mafia members trying to rebrand the mafia image. This is discussed not only in the chapter but is also seen in movies like Godfather 3 where mafia leaders turn to politics as a form of rebranding the idea of what the mafia is, which has been influenced by myths and stories.
While reading the chapter “War and Rebirth” by John Dickie, I found the legend of the Sicilian Mafia helping the American troops defeat the Italian Fascists in WW 2 to be very entertaining. This paints a picture of the Sicilian Mafia that is influential in politics but also innovative, resourceful, and kind as they are looking out for the people of Sicily. By helping the American’s invade Italy and take down the Fascists, as the legend goes, the Mafia was liberating the Sicilian people from the disparity that they faced under fascism. This legend is one of countless stories, myths, and legends that surrounds the Mafia in Sicily, in America, and globally. In class I would like to dive more into the how these myths and legends impact the idea of the mafia. As we have discussed in class, these myths are spread around towns and cities, published in newspapers due to the mystery, shock, and awe surrounding them, and then are eventually turned into famous pop culture movies and books. As discussed within the readings, the Italian culture is heavily impacted and swayed by conspiracy theories around WW 2 and has continued into folk tales and legends. How has the experience of fascism, the Catholic Church, and the mafia impacted myths and legends surrounding the mafia in Italy compared to the stories of the mafia within the US? Not only would I like to learn/discuss more about the impact of myths/legends/stories of the mafia in Italy and the US, but I would also be interested to see the connection between the myths creating an idea of the mafia and mafia members trying to rebrand the mafia image. This is discussed not only in the chapter but is also seen in movies like Godfather 3 where mafia leaders turn to politics as a form of rebranding the idea of what the mafia is, which has been influenced by myths and stories.
Something that particularly struck me after watching Salvatore Giuliano and reading Dickie’s excerpt is how similar the movie was to real life. We have talked a lot in class about how movies often paint mafiosi in a bad light, causing negative stereotypes about Italian Americans. Though previous movies have aimed to tell the “true stories of the mafia,” they often fabricated stories, which possibly explains why Al Capone and other mafiosi proposed gangster film bans. However, this specific chapter discussed how details portrayed in the movie were relatively accurate, from Pisciotta being poisoned and Giuliano’s death being publicized vastly different from how people think he was actually killed. When did this shift occur in the media portrayal of the mafia, from attempting to paint the accurate story of the mafia to actually documenting reality? Was it due to more knowledge on how the mafia actually functioned given their connections to everyday life including politics and the police?
Should mafia movies even present true facts of mafia crimes? Though Public Enemy used allusions to reality, it used fake names and scenes for the movie plot. Alternatively, Salvatore Giuliano used actual mafia occurrences and names, seemingly presenting a historical documentation rather than entertainment. In all honesty, was it really necessary to employ a widowed mother to play the role of Giuliano’s mother and use the real bandit’s rifle? I’d say no. Did creating documentation-like movies of the mafia change the perception of Italian Americans or cause greater xenophobia? Though slightly different from what I’ve already discussed, Dickie also mentions how “This was a period when the comparatively extravagant wealth of many U.S. men of honour gave them prestige back in Sicily” (206). Did the mafias’ bolstered reputation in Sicily do anything for their reputation in the United States?
The part of the John Dickie chapter and the film, Salvatore Giuliano, that I found most interesting was Dickie’s comment on Francesco Rosi’s choice to only show Giuliano, the protagonist of the film, from behind or from an oblique angle. Dickie states that Giuliano appears in the film as if he were “an empty screen on to which the other characters each project their own version of the story.” He then states, “The truth about Giuliano lies not in the figure of the bandit himself, Rosi is suggesting, but somewhere in a tangle of relationships between the bandits, the peasants, the police, the army, the politicians, and the media. At the centre of that tangle was the mafia.” The figure of Salvatore Giuliano was more a construct of the public’s perception of him as he relates to the mafia, police, army, and socio-political context of the time rather than the facts of what he actually did. Along with this, as we see in the film, came a great deal of uncertainty and even mysticism. It seems that Giuliano was viewed by many as a hero. In the beginning of them film, the man at the juice stand claims “he took from the rich and gave to the poor,” and another man, while attempting to claim amnesty for his political crimes, states, “Giuliano fought for Sicily.” As we see in the film, not only in these quotes but also throughout the scenes in court, the complex Sicilian politcal and social context complicated public perception around figures like Giuliano as well as the mafia as a whole. After seeing the film, for instance, I understand why the average person living in Montelepre might have distrusted the Italian military and supported groups that were perceived as an opposing force. We see how soldiers raided the town, taking men away from their homes and families and put in chains due to the search for Giuliano. In this scene, we can recognize how the military becomes more of a threat than Giuliano himself. One man asks “for how long will we have to pay the sin of being born in Montelepre?” I can see how this setting could have given rise to mafia myths amidst the complexity of their situation and the “tangle of relationships between the bandits, the peasants, the police, the army, the politicians, and the media.”
Despite it being in Italian, after watching “Salvatore Giuliano,” I noticed how it challenges our typical Hollywood views of the Sicilian mafia. Unlike the glamorized portrayals we often see, this film presents a raw network of power relationships in post-WWII Sicily. What immediately struck me most was how Rosi depicts the intersection between organized crime, politics, and social movements. The film doesn’t give us a straightforward narrative about “good guys” versus “bad guys.” Instead, it shows how the bandit Giuliano operated in a gray area between different forces: the mafia, the separatist movement, and the Italian state. This also ties with the ideas presented by Dickie in his chapter on 1943-1950, where he explains how the mafia used a “perfect storm” of conditions to their advantage in order to rebuild after WWII. For instance, he explains how the mafia bosses actually hitched their wagon to the separatist cause as a way to regain power. They weren’t true believers – just opportunists using political chaos to their advantage.
The documentary-style approach also makes everything feel more real and unsettling. We don’t get the usual mafia movie tropes – no lavish ceremonies, no dramatic shootouts in restaurants. Instead, we see the everyday reality of how criminal power operates in society. The mafia’s presence is felt throughout the film not through stereotypical gangster scenes, but through
subtle political manipulations and social control. These subtle nods match what Dickie describes about how the mafia operated as “power brokers” in this period, mediating between different political forces while staying in the shadows.
What struck me most about Il Mafioso was how seamlessly the mafia blends into everyday life. It doesn’t function as a separate criminal underworld but rather as something deeply embedded in economic and social structures. In the movie, Nino saw himself as a modern, middle-class worker in Milan, far removed from his Sicilian roots. Yet, when he returned home, it became clear that his success was never truly independent. His factory job, his connections, and even his sense of identity were all subtly intertwined with the mafia. The film reflects what Peretti describes as the mafia’s deep entanglement with capitalism. The mafia doesn’t just survive alongside economic development but thrives within it. Nino assumed he left Sicily’s power structures behind, but it turned out the factory he works for had its own ties to organized crime, making it clear that mafia influence extended beyond the rural South. Even as Italy modernizes, Il Mafioso suggests that old systems of power don’t disappear, they simply evolve to fit new economic circumstances.
The film II Mafioso struck me as a commentary on Italy’s Northern and Southern divide, similar to our lessons earlier this semester. This felt most true in the characterization of Marta and Nino’s family. Building off of news clippings of Sicilian Italy at the time, the film struck a strong contrast between progressive Milan and rural Sicily. In Milan, Marta was used to wearing what she chose, smoking at dinner, and living a generally upscale life. In Sicily, she was stared at for smoking, looked out of place in her clothing, and seemed generally ostracized. The goal, it seems, was to draw a comparison between the North and South and, through Marta’s eyes, show Southern Italy as worthy of suspicion and generally unsafe and dangerous. There was great visual contrast between Nino’s family (i.e., clothing, demeanor, and customs) to show further this divide that Nino himself was completely unaware of.
However, Nino’s boss using him to send an item to the gang boss in Sicily showed the growing connection and influence of mafia groups outside of Sicily. This builds on earlier films that maintained mafia influence to Southern Italy.
Most Mafia films center around the rise and fall of powerful bosses, but Il Mafioso (1962) takes a different approach. Unlike the characters in Scarface or The Godfather, Alberto Lattuada’s film focuses on a pretty ordinary guy, Antonio Badalamenti, a Sicilian factory manager, who gets caught up in a world he thought he had left behind. The film blends comedy and crime, making it feel different from the typical mafia movie that we’ve seen, but its themes of obligation, loyalty, and capitalism’s ties to the Mafia fit right into what we’ve been discussing in class.
Luca Peretti’s reading, “Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960,” helps put the film into context. The early 1960s was a time of economic growth in Italy, with the North industrializing while the South remained more traditional and agrarian. Antonio, living in Milan, represents this shift, he’s a modern man, successful in business, and seemingly far from the influence of the Mafia. But when he visits Sicily, he’s pulled back into an old system where debts must be repaid, and favors aren’t don’t come without strings. The film highlights how the Mafia wasn’t just about crime but was deeply connected to economic structures, controlling business and labor in ways that shaped Italian society.
Watching Il Mafioso, I was struck by how the Mafia isn’t shown as glamorous or powerful like in American mafia films. The final act, where Antonio is forced to carry out a hit despite his respectable life, is chilling because it shows how deep these connections run. The film makes you question whether anyone can truly break free from the Mafia’s grip, a theme that still feels relevant in other modern organized crime stories.
In past classes, we’ve discussed how the mafia “hero” has been armed with ambition, entering the battlefield of the American Dream and not coming out alive due to this over-ambition. In Mafioso, we leave the states and go to Italy, a totally different economic setting as they were going through an enormous transformation Giuseppe Garizzo referred to as “Sicily-laboratory”. Taking advantage of such a vulnerable transition, the mafia infused itself within the power structures early on, becoming a hidden, core part of capitalism and life everywhere. This is seen in Nino’s journey as “the mafia and industrial capitalism emerge in the film as two hierarchical systems that impose violence on the weakest, on those who occupy lower steps in the ladder”. At the beginning, Nino reprimands employees at a factory that resembles that of Modern Times, a symbol of capitalism itself. Nino then visits his family in Sicily. The majority of the movie is non-violent. Nino settles into his hometown and gets reacquainted with old friends – all seems fine. Yet what Lattuada does is show how subtly present the mafia is – even when you aren’t seeing them. From the ties to the factory in Milan to the ties all the way across the Atlantic Ocean in NY (whose setting is portrayed from beautiful low shots to show the expansive city and convey the American Dream), the mafia is everywhere, inflicting their power over the vulnerable. When Nino becomes the vulnerable, Don forces him to perform a traumatizing murder, Lattuada using close-up camera work to give the audience a true sense of just how powerfully intimidating the mafia is. Don has gained his power through his great influence within the capitalist system as seen when Nino returns to Milan, with the truth of the foundation that his factory is built upon.
Alberto Lattuada’s Il Mafioso follows a factory foreman and his family’s journey from Milan to Scilily to visit his family, where they discover the family’s dark Mafia connections. The film is considered one of the most influential Italian comedies and, as noted in Luca Peretti’s “Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960,” highlights the relationship between capitalism and the Mafia. While watching the film, I was particularly struck by just how essential and important the Mafia is to capitalism. Even in the first scene of the movie in the Fiat factory, audiences are thrown into the world of Italy’s economic miracle of automobiles. In the film, the factory where Nino, the protagonist, works is owned by the Mafia, demonstrating the deep roots capitalism has to organized crime. In addition, I was drawn to the two very different realities the film painted: industrial Milan and a rural Sicily. The stark contrast highlights the economic and social disparities, but displays the Mafia as having power in both regions. What does each region represent in the larger picture? One of the social differences that stuck out to me was the placement of the bed in the middle of the house, when Nino and Marta arrived in Sicily. To Sicilians, this is a sign of status whereas more Northerners were concerned for privacy. The film also made me wonder more about how the Mafia differs in each setting, and how this factors into the movie as a transnational representation of organized crime, as seen in the connections to the United States. As noted by Peretti, “the mafia is, again, not the main subject of the film,” – to me, the film is more about Nino’s internal conflict and identity crises surrounding who he is in Milan and his Scilian heritage and background.
I found Il Mafioso to be an interesting film to watch because it was quite different from the trio of American films we watched–Little Ceasar, Scarface, and The Public Enemy. Unlike in those films, in Il Mafioso, the main character, Nino does not start as a bad guy. Rather, he seems like a good man who has worked hard to achieve success in life. He has moved away from Sicily, built a career, and married a beautiful wife. He seems quite blissfully unaware that he is intertwined in the Mafia and any criminal activity. It is only after Don Vincenzo requests that he carry out an assassination that he realizes he may have to do something immoral.
Unlike the main characters in Little Ceasar and The Public Enemy, Nino does not represent a criminal until the end of the film, after he kills the man in the barber shop. After this act of violence, Nino seems to struggle with his actions rather than successfully justify them to himself. This moral struggle highlights a key difference between Il Mafioso and the American gangster films; while characters like Rico and Tom actively embrace criminality in pursuit of power, Nino’s criminal behavior is arguably involuntary, reinforcing the film’s critique of the inescapable grip of the Mafia. Nino’s life also reflects societal tensions between modernity and tradition, as even after moving to Milan and joining the industrial world, he has failed to sever his deep-rooted ties to Sicily’s mafia.
Alberto Lattuada’s Il Mafioso follows a factory foreman and his family’s journey from Milan to Scilily to visit his family, where they discover the family’s dark Mafia connections. The film is considered one of the most influential Italian comedies and, as noted in Luca Peretti’s “Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960,” highlights the relationship between capitalism and the Mafia. While watching the film, I was particularly struck by just how essential and important the Mafia is to capitalism. Even in the first scene of the movie in the Fiat factory, audiences are thrown into the world of Italy’s economic miracle of automobiles. In the film, the factory where Nino, the protagonist, works is owned by the Mafia, demonstrating the deep roots capitalism has to organized crime. In addition, I was drawn to the two very different realities the film painted: industrial Milan and a rural Sicily. The stark contrast highlights the economic and social disparities, but displays the Mafia as having power in both regions. What does each region represent in the larger picture? One of the social differences that stuck out to me was the placement of the bed in the middle of the house, when Nino and Marta arrived in Sicily. To Sicilians, this is a sign of status whereas more Northerners were concerned for privacy. The film also made me wonder more about how the Mafia differs in each setting, and how this factors into the movie as a transnational representation of organized crime, as seen in the connections to the United States. As noted by Peretti, “the mafia is, again, not the main subject of the film,” – to me, the film is more about Nino’s internal conflict and identity crises surrounding who he is in Milan and his Scilian heritage and background.
Watching Il Mafioso was a refreshing change from the American gangster films. What struck me most was how it doesn’t glamorize the Mafia or make it seem like some kind of thrilling underworld. Instead, it discusses how ordinary people can get caught up in something much bigger than themselves. Nino isn’t some larger-than-life mobster, he’s just trying to live a normal life. He has a good job in Milan, a nice family, and seems to have left some of his roots behind. When he goes back home to visit, that’s when we realize he never escaped the Mafia’s reach at all. When Nino moves to the north, it represents Italy’s economic boom and the promise of better life, but when he goes back to Sicily, it goes to show that the past isn’t easy to shake off. The Mafia isn’t just a criminal organization there. It’s a symbol of tradition and loyalty. The humor in Il Mafioso is another thing that sets it apart. It’s not laugh-out-loud funny but there’s a subtle, ironic tone that makes the darker moments hit even harder. Like when Nino’s family in Sicily treats him like a hero for working in a northern factory, only to be casually reminded of a “favor” he owes a local boss. It’s a strange mix of pride and pressure. In the end, Il Mafioso isn’t solely about the mafia. It’s about the clash of old and new, tradition and progress, but also leaves you thinking about how much of our past we carry with us, whether good or bad.
For Feb 12: It was interesting to read and watch how the mafia played a key and central role in developing the economy of the country given the mafia’s humble origins in the countryside of Italy. First, I was surprised by how powerful the mafia was. I did not expect that through the expansive network of mafia connections (including overseas), they gave Sicilian citizens jobs, chances for economic growth, and class mobility. Through this, they were able to coerce them into practicing mafia traditions to “repay their debt”. It’s a very smart system for the mafia to remain in power. In the movie, Nino had to take on an assassination mission to repay the favor. While seemingly transitioning out of poverty and gaining class and dignity, behind it all, these workers were still tied down by Sicilian mafia’s history/tradition of violence and crime. This type of system is still in play in the modern day; it reminded me of situations where one might join a corrupt but successful company. The workers must throw away their morality in exchange for money, power, and stability of life, while carrying the shadows of their success for the rest of their lives. It was sad to watch Nino, a good man with morals, trying to live an honest life that strove upwards, but cannot escape their past and ultimately still committed the crime.
I thought the movie Mafioso(1962) took a different approach to the Hollywood mafia movies we’ve watched previously. Instead of the powerful, larger-than-life mafia gangsters in The Godfather movies or the reckless nature of Tony Camonte in Scarface, this film depicted the Sicilian mafia, showing how the mafia is not just a crime syndicate but rather an inescapable part of daily life. It’s not about a rise to power after all, it’s about being powerless. The main character, Antonio Badalamenti, wasn’t really a gangster at all. He is a hardworking factory worker who’s built a life for himself, but when he returns home to Sicily, he gets pulled into something much bigger than himself. What was most unsettling to me was how normal it all seemed. There was no dramatic initiation or sudden descent into crime but instead just a quiet, almost bureaucratic expectation that Antonio will do whatever is asked of him. It reminded me a lot of what we talked about in Salvatore Giuliano about how the mafia isn’t just an organization but a system embedded in Sicilian society that operates not only in the shadows but also in plain sight. I thought this tied into Peretti’s article well, which argues that the mafia didn’t disappear with modernization but instead adapted. The idea that economic progress would weaken the mafia was a myth. Instead, it evolved, using business and political connections to stay in control. This connects back to how we saw the mafia shift from rural protection in Sicily to urban crime networks in America. However, Mafioso makes it very clear that even those who leave aren’t ever really free. The mafia isn’t just something you can walk away from, it’s something that claims you, whether you want it to or not.
The movie starts off feeling like a dark comedy, but as the story unfolds, it slowly reveals itself as a quiet tragedy. Antonio seems like the perfect example of making a better life; he’s left Sicily for Milan, built a stable life, and adapted to a new life with his family. But the moment he returns home, his past reasserts itself. The Mafia isn’t just a shadowy criminal network here; it’s woven into the fabric of Sicilian society. When Don Vincenzo calls in a “favor,” Antonio doesn’t resist because resistance isn’t an option. His fate was sealed the second he stepped off the train.
What makes the film so unsettling is that it doesn’t frame Antonio’s story as an extreme case. His entrapment feels systemic. The Mafia operates like an extension of the economic forces that were supposed to liberate him, adapting and thriving alongside Italy’s postwar boom. His trip to America to carry out a hit, disguised as a business opportunity, mirrors how power works in the modern world: quiet, transactional, and inescapable. When he returns to Milan, nothing has visibly changed, but we know he’s not the same man.
Il Mafioso served to me as a means of exemplifying how Mafias as a concept could not exist without capitalism, and how mafioso is tied to the inner-workings of capitalism. Peretti, in Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960, explains that while many consider capitalism to be a concept juxtaposed to that of capitalism, the two actually work together and are intrinsically linked. When Antonio goes to Sicily, he realizes that the modern Italy that he is used to in Milan is a stark contrast to the situation in Sicily. Ran by the mafia, Sicily does not function through an industrial capitalist economy but a mafioso capitalist economy. Antonio believes that he is exempt from the reach of the Mafia, but ends up becoming involved when he wants to buy property and is almost thwarted by the seller. This can be seen as a metaphor for the belief that anything is separate from capitalism, including mafioso. When Antonio returns to Milan, he realizes that the Mafia still has an influence in his life even though he is no longer in Sicily. Peretti also shows how the mafia exists in a global capitalist structure. In the movie Mafioso, Antonio is tasked with carrying out a hit against someone in New York, so he has to fly overnight to take him out and then returns to Sicily, saying he was on a hunting trip. When they are in New York, they come across Sicilians and Sicilian-Americans, which exemplifies the global reach that the mafia has. The globality of capitalism allows the mafia to have a global hold. Being involved in trade and in transnational corporations allows the mafia a greater reach, and strengthens global ties between nations (however negative the implications of those ties may be.) The structure of capitalism also reflects the structure of the mafia, which Peretti discusses when he explains how the mafia infiltrates every level of society.
The Mafia’s ability to function within contemporary economic structures rather than outside of them was the most notable aspect of Il Mafioso (1962). Successful Milanese plant manager Antonio Badalamenti feels he has transcended the limitations of his Sicilian heritage. His return home, however, shows that his prosperity is not as self-sufficient as he had thought. The Mafia actively influences and gains from capitalism by integrating itself into sectors and international marketplaces, rather than merely coexisting with it.
In Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960, Luca Peretti examines how organized crime changes with economic advancement rather than going away. Even though Antonio considers himself a modern professional, his involvement with the Mafia implies that power structures change throughout time rather than disappear. In contrast, early gangster movies frequently depicted crime as a way to advance in society. In Il Mafioso, crime is not a means of achieving success but rather a duty, from which Antonio is unable to break free no matter how hard he tries.
The conflict between systemic control and individual agency has been a recurrent issue in previous talks. Antonio is dragged into crime despite his best attempts to stay out of it, unlike characters in classic American gangster movies who actively seek crime as a route to power.
For class on Feb 12:
Il Mafioso gave a much different impression to me than the films I had made blog posts about for previous classes such as The Public Enemy, Little Caesar, and Scarface. In this film, the structure of the mafia movie is presented differently, and some of the American stereotypes of the mafia do not appear at first. Looking at Nino, it is hard to see him as a mafia member in the same way as other films. It is clear that Nino does not believe this as well, given what we know of his life story before he finally becomes intertwined with immoral activity, to say the least. Although this was the impression created, the theme and principles of the mafia in society were present throughout the film. Unlike in the others, in Il Mafioso, the idea of the mafia is tied to everything socially behind the scenes, and Nino is not necessarily the bad guy/criminal who has a predetermined fate. I really enjoyed learning from this film, and it is interesting to relate it to Peretti’s writing which tries to explain the hold the mafia has on the structure of society itself. From industry, to relationships, and to power, the Sicilian mafia obviously had deeper roots than were shown to us in the past. Peretti’s writing and Il Mafioso reflect these ideas very well.
This was my favorite movie we have seen thus far! Our first male, mafia-involved protagonist who is, to his core, a good man. He loves his parents, wife, children, hometown- the most respectful character we have met in this class. Ironically, he is respectful to a fault, leading to his ultimate sin by the end of the film. Although many of the Sicilians were presented as uncivilized, I really enjoyed how the film emphasized the values of Sicilian culture rather than the values of Mafia culture. I especially liked Marta’s character, who was really trying her best to be supportive of her husband, even though she is a city girl at heart. When Nino is crying in bed at the end of the film, it reminded me about how Marta was crying at the beginning when she felt like she did not belong. As much as I liked his character, it was almost embarrassing how obsessed he was with Don Vincenzo.
I enjoyed the contrasts between Sicily and New York. Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism mentions how most of these scenes truly emulate the Western style of film, especially the change in music. I noticed that the physical touch in Sicily, even with Don Vincenzo, felt natural and part of the culture. Whereas the physical touch in New York felt uncomfortable or inappropriate with an oddly long kiss and strong squeeze of Nico’s knee. In previous mafia films, we discussed how the protagonists had a different accent when speaking English as to “other” them. This time, we see that with antagonists in New York with a strong American accent when speaking Italian.
It is interesting that Nico introduced Sicily to his family trying to convince them that it is, in fact, part of Italy, but he leaves feeling more disconnected than ever.
I found Peretti’s essay on “Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960” to be very informative, and reading it prior to watching the Mafioso film certainly gave me a perspective I think I otherwise may not have had. For example, one of the most important points I took away from Peretti was his argument that the mafia “is simultaneously an enterprise structured around traditional codes of conduct, and [extremely modern]” (246). This outlook was new to me because I had not necessarily associated the mafia with both of these somewhat competing ideals – traditional and yet modern.
In the Mafioso film, both of these elements were evident in seeing Antonio’s return to Sicily and his ties to his hometown mixed in with the mafia’s far-reaching influence to New York City. The importance of the setting was one of the most prominent elements of the plot that I think stands apart from some of the other films we have analyzed thus far. In the others, (Godfather II and III, Salvatore Giuliano, etc.) there were certainly scenes in which the setting was crucial, but in Mafioso, it seems that the setting is used as a primary catalyst for the plot. Peretti comments on this by saying “[s]pace and time are restructured in the film”, and I think there is no better way to encapsulate the importance of this film in the development of mafia cinema (248).
One question that came to mind, which is not related only to Mafioso and Peretti, is what kind of reactions mafia men had to these kinds of films at the time. Are they pleased with the publicity and mystification of their work (in an Al Capone-esque way)? Or is drawing the curtain back on the impact of their influence potentially detrimental to their business and interests?
Mafioso is almost three movies in one. It starts out as a romantic comedy with a plot that has been used many times – a man and a wife who come from different backgrounds introducing their spouse to their family and the different backgrounds creating some sort of comedic tension. The set-up is that he lives with his family in the big northern city or Milan. We have piano sequenza of the large factory that he works in as a respected supervisor and also of the city bustling with traffic among tall steel and glass buildings. The traffic adds to the anxiety of the big city as does him rushing his wife and kids to get ready to leave on vacation to Sicily to meet his family. We notice that his wife and kids are all blonde versus the dark-haired Sicilians. We also see his boss show some prejudice against Sicilians as he mentions that his work is as good as any Italian and even the Germans, showing that there were low expectations of Sicilian workers.
It’s still a comedy as they are on the boat to Sicily and he says “look at Sicily” and she responds “Italy is fading away” and then “Italy has vanished” when they get on Sicilian soil. We then get to the scenes in Sicily where his Sicilian family is notably cold to his wife – she’s blonde, her name Marta is not Italian, she’s dressed in cosmopolitan clothes, she smokes when she thinks the dinner is complete (even though it was only after the first course). She doesn’t feel at all at home in the backwards village of stone streets and houses where horse drawn carts are the main mode of transportation. It’s hot, they’re walking a lot, the sleeping arrangements are cramped, they’re turned away ay Don Vincenzo’s – nothing is going right and Nino promises her that they will leave early to see her parents in Bellagio – a fancy place on Lake Como. There are other scenes that show the tension as well. Throughout these scenes, the background music is light.
It starts to become a mafia movie at the 49:30 when Nino gets in the horse drawn carriage of Don Liborio. The music gets a bit more dramatic and darker. Liborio buys him a hat so he looks like they do. He takes him to the shooting gallery which Nino thinks is for fun but where Liborio is testing to see whether he is still a good shot, showing a sinister smile when Nino makes every shot, even the hard one of the string on the Marsala wine. We see that Don Vincenzo has done a favor for Nino and his family by interceding for them on the land purchase and getting the owner to go back to his original offer. Now Nino owes the Don a favor. And later Nino does it blindly as he takes up his long past and hidden role as a picciotto d’onore.
The movie moves to the US and becomes film noir. The music changes as they drive through the streets of New York and North Bergen New Jersey. You see shots of Nino looking up from the car at the skyscrapers along Broadway. He finally finds out what he has to do; and he kills a rival mafia boss and then makes the arduous trip in a crate back to Sicily. He has a flashback of hearing the gun shots while he lies in bed with his wife and starts to cry.
We then return to almost the exact scene from the start in the factory except played in reverse. Notably, when he gives the pen back to the clerical worker who signed him out for his vacation, the worker says the world would be a better place if there more people like him. Very ironic since Nino is now a murderer.
After reading the text and watching the film, it’s evident that a key theme was the mafia’s influence on capitalism and economic structures. Before speaking on that, I liked how, different to other films we’ve watched, Nino seemed like a perfectly ordinary guy, with a nice family and stable job. Yet, we soon find out that his life is nothing but ordinary. We believe that his stable life is due to his job working with cars and such but we learn just how deeply the mafia is embedded into his life. Once he returns back to Sicily and is forced into doing something completely against his character for the mafia, we come to understand how much the mafia has had a role in the life he is living. Although Nino believed he was away from everything involving the mafia, they were the critical component in why he was able to live the life he was living. And because of that, they were able to use their power and manipulate him into doing something he found wrong. We also learn that the mafia has played a key role in assisting the economy of the country. The mafia has a way of blending into everyday life and it survives by creeping into economic and social structures. The mafia doesn’t just blend into economic development, but it flourishes within it. Nino thought he was leaving the evil doings of the mafia behind in Sicily, but we learn that the mafia has influence that stretches far beyond Italy. Just like the text says, “Mafioso points to the relationship between capitalism and the mafia, and moreover, it posits that the mafia is one of the key elements in modern capitalism in Italy” (247). All in all, we come to understand that power systems don’t fade away with modernity, they simply adjust to the changing times to fit the new economic structures.
In the reading for Wednesday’s class, the author chooses to refer to the stories and cinema surrounding the mafia as having some folklore-adjacent qualities which made me think about how a lot of these films tend to frame Sicily to a non-Sicilian audience. A large portion of the reading focused on the transnationalism of the mafia business and how Il mafioso in particular plays with space and time in that the audience never sees detailed scenes or any discussions of travel in the film whether that be between Milan and Sicily or Sicily and NYC. The reading also highlights how the experiences in the varied locations, notably those distinct from the “home” setting that the film has established (Milan in this case), spur significant change in the character (i.e., Nino becomes harsher on his subordinates at work as a product of the violence he endured, enabled, and witnessed while gone from Milan). Both of these topics relating to a spatial divide in the mafia film are profoundly embedded in a lot of the mafioso and gangster movies we have seen, and I was curious as to what this might accomplish for a broader public unfamiliar with the mafia or Sicily. I would argue many of the films we have seen single out the Sicilian countryside for functioning as a sort of transformative venue for the mafiosi. Obviously this is the case for Nino in Il mafioso, but we see similar events with Michael when he flees to Sicily in The Godfather after killing a police officer in New York and even for Giuliano’s gang members when they travel from Montelepre to Portella della Ginestra for the massacre. Beyond the magic that lies in the beauty of Sicily, I feel as though such a representation of the island in popular culture would add to the folklore and mysticism of the region and the infamous organizations inhabiting it. I look forward to exploring this more and analyzing how the mystery of Sicily and its criminal ties can simultaneously fuel the mafia cult following and, as we see in early gangster films, be used to push political agendas and censorship standards.
Similar to Dominic, I began with the essay before watching the Mafioso movie, and found the themes covered in Peretti’s “Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism Circa 1960” to be enlightening for some of the undercurrents of the film. Before reading, I had some understanding of the Mafia as a socio-political and socio-economic metaphor, but the case studies helped me ground this understanding on a couple key pillars: the north-south divide of Italy and the interplay of industrial Capitalism and modernity with the traditions of the organization. The North-South divide itself feeds into themes on Capitalism and modernity, as the Northerners in Italy are portrayed as industrialists while those in the South are exoticized. When I watched the film, I found that it explored these themes thoroughly, as the film explores the Mafia as the transnational corporation it is, while also showing how that push for expansion and modernity clashed with the traditional values. One question I have is this: to what extent has modern technology facilitated further globalization of the Mafia, and to what extent has it served to fragment it?
I found the movie Il Mafioso to be a fascinating one. I felt as though it was very interesting how long it took for the movie to get to the crucial part involving Nino’s murder. With 30 minutes left in the film it began to bring to light the Mafia’s presence that specifically affected Nino after he was selected to kill for them. Throughout the film I felt like the beginning was more so to introduce Nino, his family, and then his home. Throughout this introduction, one of the most important parts was the location. While, yes it was important because it was a town in southern Italy, it was mostly important because it was Nino’s home – he felt extremely connected there. This showed the viewer the connection between Nino’s hometown, the mafia, and the world and the influence such a strong connection can have. The location of the movie was not only pivotal to the plot but it also built the mafia in a certain way. As the reading mentioned as well, this film presented the Mafia to have a transnational representation. I found this to be a very interesting way of showing the grand influence the Mafia had over many different places and people. I was relatively shocked to see the location he was sent to for this killing to be New York. I think this specific choice truly spoke to the way the Mafia was portrayed in accordance with mobility and capitalism across the world. The locations were the most important aspect of the movie and helped to be understood by the details in the readings.
I really liked how the reading for Wednesday’s class tied together and added to the movies this week. Following our discussion in class about Salvatore Giuliano, I liked how the author referred to him as a Christ-figure and after reading that I was able to better appreciate and understand the movie.
A few short notes: I liked how the author stated that the mafia is always with Nino even though he is far away and how precision is shown in two different contexts in the criminal south and the capitalist north. Another thing that constantly caught my attention was how Nino, when he was in Sicily, would always use “sunio” instead of “sono” which is the Sicilian equivalent to the word (a small but important detail I think).
In the opening scene of Mafiosi I noticed the long shot and the sudden focus on the protagonist after a montage depicting the assembly of a car. I also appreciated how the camera managed to keep him in focus despite all of the calamitous events that were occurring at the same time nearby him. When in closer dialogues and traveling scenes I noticed how the camera was subordinated to the character in fairly similar ways to Salvatore Giuliano. I also liked how subtly the traditionalist culture of Sicily is constantly presented as with the “bad” omens of rain happening as soon as they arrive and later when Nino crosses paths with a black cat.
I also really appreciated how the plot was advanced in subtle ways constantly as when there would be music changes when one of the mafioso characters would appear, the different camera angles that would show them looking with malicious intent. More specifically: when Don Liboro takes Nino to get a cap, he does not pay, and when he casually suggests a shooting game, he was just testing to see if he could still shoot accurately. In all of these cases, the viewer is able to see what our protagonist cannot. Additionally the mention of him being a piscotto d’onore is mentioned and the connection is drawn to how he managed to get his job in Milan.
With the religious elements, what stood out to me was when Don Vincenzo said, “May God’s will be done” but he is just referring to his own will. (There was also a crucifix on top of Salvatore Giuliano’s bed when he was shot). Lastly, the camera work in the end of the movie was building up to the climax with the fast cuts and the zoom when Nino and Vincenzo talk, as well as with the black screen and the voiceover with the transport to America. When in New York, the camera being low and showing the grandeur of the structures was mentioned in the article as being like a dream sequence which I completely agree with. I also interpreted symbolic intent with the tearing up of the letter that Nino was dispatched to deliver: a way of demonstrating how the mafiosi do not keep their words. To conclude, I liked how the movie has a quick resolution and shows him back where the movie started.
Having now read the article and watched Il Mafioso, I find that the article really helps illuminate the impact of of the time period that the movie takes place in. The article highlights the importance of the growth of capitalism in post-war Italy and how embedded the mafia was in this system. The movie shows this through Antonio’s vast experiences with the mafia throughout the film, showcasing the far reaching grasp of the mafia, as well as how much control and influence the mafia had on the capitalist system in Sicily. The article and the film do a good job of bringing together the mafia and capitalism to clearly show how the mafia made capitalism their own and took advantage of the opportunity to have substantial control.
It’s also interesting to look at the theme of the modern, and yet still traditional mafia as explained in the article. There is a clear juxtaposition between the traditional family values/way of life that the mafia lives and the modern growth of economy taking place at the time. In Il Mafioso, the film ties the two together in its portrayal of the mafia, as there are still traditional values being upheld while the organization is simultaneously becoming more modern and adjusting to the growing world and taking advantage of booming industries as well. Looking at the bigger picture now, this is a reflection of the Mafia’s historic adaptability that has allowed it to have so much influence on the world for such an extended period of time.
I thought the movie Il Mafioso was very interesting due to how different it is from all of the other movies we have watched so far. This film follows a character who grew up in Sicily but moved to Milan when he was a young man in order to have a fulfilling job and family. This film chronicles their family trip back to Sicily which he had left behind many years ago. Weirdly enough, this movie reminds me of a more recent movie called Grown Ups. This movie is about a group of childhood friends that get back together in their old hometown after years of being apart. The main character, Adam Sandler, is extremely successful and has a fancy wife from Milan. At first the wife and kids are uptight about their old traditions and way of living, but as they spend more time with their dad’s childhood friends they become more accustomed to it and end up liking it. This ends up going in reverse for Antonio because initially he only remembers the best parts about his old life in Sicily and forgets about the bad parts. He spends the whole first half of the movie trying to convince his family how amazing and wonderful Sicily is. In the end, however, he realizes that he can never escape the mafioso life that he left behind and he is dragged right back into it. He desperately wanted to forget about that part of his life but as we have seen with a lot of these movies it is extremely difficult to avoid it.
I wanted to comment on something stated in the article, which is, “And also, the two sides of Italy (North and South; poor and rich; modernized and traditional, etc.) are not separated anymore, as Nino’s (a southern) and his wife’s (a Northern) marriage demonstrates.” Although I agree in that they are more connected in terms of communication and transportation, I think the film also portrayed a great distance culturally among the North and the South through the character of the wife. When they arrive, the wife seems to be out of place, and she even says “I don’t belong here” while crying. This is also demonstrated when she asks about phrases they use at the table for example, “he sits,” which means he doesn’t work. I also thought it was interesting that he kept trying to hide the signs of violence and the Mafia from his wife, which I thought was possibly rooted in the idea that even Northerners had stereotypes against the Southerners and he didn’t want to perpetuate that stereotype.
I also wanted to further examine what the article said about Il Mafioso, which is that “it mimics and deconstructs the stereotypes of the Sicilian Mafia in order to offer a dark commentary on the nature of modern capitalism.” One part of the movie that very clearly portrayed this was when the man raised the price on the land and the father and him got into a fight. Afterwards, Nino says, “Why do they say Sicily’s uncivilized? It’s very civilized. We have to live up to that.” Not only is this ironic because he says this immediately after a fight broke out, but it also shows the choice to make a direct statement addressing preconceived notions of Sicily. The aspect of modern capitalism that I saw demonstrated from this scene is the idea that people in power can change the rules of the game for something as stupid as a “magic stick.” I see it as somewhat of an inverse view on the American Dream; a view that doesn’t praise freedom and capitalism, but shows how it creates greed and cheaters.
I thought the writing offered some interesting insights about the movie. Towards the middle of the chapter, the author explained that depictions of America and the mafia scene there is functional but “cold”, whereas in Sicily, the mafia is a tradition like family dinners and festivals that all form a “lovely mess”. Looking back at the films we watched that were primarily based in the US, there was a more cold and foreboding tone. The conversations that were had with people of great power were often tense. However, in Mafioso, Antonio spoke to the Don with joy and gratitude.
I also enjoyed some of the more surface-level observations such as the note about how Antonio and Marta are given the bedroom in the middle of the house because it is a sign of prestige for a Sicilian Family.
Something in the film that I found to be puzzling were the almost cryptic ways in which Antonio communicated with the Don and his workers. They never simply said “we need you to kill this man”. Every time it was discussed, there was so much effort put into dancing around the topic. They talked in metaphors and expressions like “mama orders and child obeys”. I wondered if this was accurate to how it would have been phrased (as it is a somewhat true story) or if it was so the movie could emphasize this was not a singular murder, but a part of something – or some tradition – that is much bigger than Antonio.
As the reading suggests, Mafioso captures the transformation of the mafia during the boom. Instead of dying with modernity, the mafia hides behind automation and new technology. On the surface, the modernized north and Sicily seem like completely different worlds. Cars and trains are swapped for horse drawn carts and donkeys. However, the present from the factory owner reveals that the two worlds are linked by the connection to the mafia. Even Nino believes he had left that world behind, but in reality he represents the transformation the mafia underwent to survive and grow. The final favor Nino performs reveals the extent the mafia has grown. What started in Sicily spread to Milan and even across the Atlantic to New York. In each city, the mafia finds a way to integrate themselves in the culture and lifestyle of the locale to assert their influence.
Overall, I found Mafioso to be a compelling film that portrayed the adaptation of the mafia and the economic overhaul of Italy clearly. Nino, representing Sicily, tries his best to move on from his shadier past. He moves to Milan. He marries a blonde wife. He works a factory job. But, in the end, the mafia stays with him the whole time. His boss at the factory has mafia connections, and he still is indebted to the mafia back home. When Nino returns to his job at the end of the movie, he, and Italy, realizes modernization will not end the mafia’s influence. If anything, their power only grows while becoming even more discrete.
After watching Alberto Lattuada’s Il Mafioso and reading Luca Peretti’s article “mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism in Italy Circa 1960,” I noticed that the themes about the mafia’s transnational reach and the influence of the mafia on capitalism were the film’s primary focus. Through Nino’s character, the film emphasizes Peretti’s discussion about how the mafia is not bound to Sicily, and instead operates worldwide from Milan’s industrial economy to New York’s crime. In the film, Nino starts out as an ordinary man with an ordinary job. However, when he revisits Sicily, we begin to find out how deeply indebted he is to the mafia. This reinforces a common trope with these mafia movies that there are many ways in and no ways out as relocating, in Nino’s case, does not guarantee your escape from it. The film also draws a similarity between the mafia’s operations and industrial capitalism because both require loyalty, precision, and value a hierarchical system. Additionally, the film portrays the mafia as deeply ingrained in the structure of society which provided social control and economic opportunity. I did find it interesting that the film used dark comedy to mask the horrifying reality of the mafia by presenting the mafia as an all-knowing, all-seeing force that rules over people and society with an iron fist.
Il Mafioso is a surprising take on the mafia genre, thriving on contradictions that make it compelling and reinforce what we’ve learned about the Mafia’s values. It blends humor with dramatic irony, particularly in Nino’s “fish out of water” predicament as an unwitting hitman. His wife, similarly displaced, struggles to adapt to Sicily, adding another layer to the film’s themes of cultural dissonance.
The abrupt ending is both darkly humorous and thought-provoking. While Nino is clearly traumatized by his actions, he resumes his life as if nothing has changed—because the Mafia needs him to continue working at the factory. His role is as mechanical as the system that exploits him. This reinforces Peretti’s argument that the Mafia is deeply embedded in Italian capitalism, controlling even seemingly ordinary livelihoods. The way Nino is shipped to New York in a crate further underscores his insignificance to them—he is little more than cargo.
The film also suggests that the Mafia’s reach extends far beyond Sicily. Nino’s blonde wife symbolizes outside influence, and his assignment in New York highlights their global presence. They have eyes everywhere.
In his essay Mafia, Mobility, and Capitalism in Italy circa 1960, Luca Peretti discusses how films from this era , including Il Mafioso, reflect the mafia’s exploitation of Italy’s rapid industrialization and economic growth. Peretti argues that the mafia’s reach extended beyond traditional rural strongholds into the industrialized North, and matched the internal migration patterns of the time. This mobility enabled the mafia to integrate into the growing Italian capitalist economy and allowed it to infiltrate new markets and industries. In Il Mafioso, Antonio’s journey from the industrial North back to the rural South symbolizes this intersection of modernity and tradition. His initial perception of the mafia as a vestige of the past is transformed as he becomes involved in its operations himself. This underscores the organization’s deep influence across different regions and socioeconomic tiers. The film underscores the mafia’s ability to navigate and manipulate capitalist structures and use new economic opportunities to expand its power and control. Additionally, the marriage between Nino, a Sicilian who has built a life in the North, and Marta, a Northern woman, represents the collapsing divide between the two halves of Italy. Traditionally, the North was seen as industrial, wealthy, and modern, while the South remained poor, agrarian, and ruled by traditional power structures like the mafia. However, during the post-war economic boom, large-scale migration from South to North created a more integrated Italy. Nino’s role as a factory foreman in Milan exemplifies this shift in that he assimilated into the Northern work culture. Still, Nino, the ideal worker of the industrial North, is forced into performing a mafia hit in the United States. This demonstrated how the mafia’s influence extended across Italy and around the world. This theme matches Peretti’s argument that by the 1960s, the mafia had evolved alongside capitalism and used economic development as a tool to expand its influence. This makes me wonder whether the mystique of the mafia and its traditionalist culture is what truly drives its spread, or whether it is purely economic interest and the desire to accumulate economic power that enables the spread of the mafia.
The intertwined relationship of capitalism and the Mafia explored in Peretti’s essay is especially clear in the opening sequence of Alberto Lattuada’s Il Mafioso; the film opens with a montage of precise factory work, followed by an aerial, deep focus shot of the protagonist, Antonio, who inspects the quality of production. The first few minutes of the film introduce us to the economic boom in Milan, and we quickly learn how the factory Antonio works for is tied to the Mafia.
The modern, fast-paced world could not be more different than the “backward” Sicily he returns to, where picturesque landscapes are juxtaposed with a society still lacking modern economic development. As noted by Peretti, Nino returns to Sicily as a tourist, bringing parts of his new life, his wife and kids, into his past; I felt that this clashing of modernity and the past was evident through Marta’s character, who strangely changes her perception of the South by the end of the film.
The film takes a twist when Antonio is tricked and shipped off to New York for a job. The borrowing of film styles we discussed in class is especially prevalent during this sequence, with a return to the classic gangster film. Lattuada employs several low-angle German expressionist shots reminiscent of that we saw in Scarface, as well as several cityscape shots; we also see a return to the subjective, specifically when the roof of the car comes down (1:25:11) to reveal to Antonio the theatrical nature of Manhattan. The use of sound and language during Antonio’s trip to America is also particularly interesting, as we hear both English and Italian. After completing the job, Antonio returns to his sleeping wife in Sicily, and it feels like the trip was a blip in time. The film’s final moments bring us back to the mafia-run factory, with the last sequence of shots resembling what we saw at the beginning of the film, this time of Antonio walking away.
I found the article’s claim that the North and South of Italy are no longer divided to be interesting, especially in relation to Il Mafioso. While the marriage between Nino and his wife suggests a connection between the two regions, the film actually reinforces their cultural differences. Nino’s wife struggles to adapt to her new environment, feeling out of place and openly expressing her discomfort. Her confusion over local expressions and customs highlights how unfamiliar she is with Southern life. Additionally, Nino’s efforts to shield her from the Mafia and the violence around them suggest that he is either protecting her or trying to avoid confirming the negative stereotypes Northerners have about the South. This tension implies that, despite increased mobility and integration, a deeper cultural divide still exists.
I also found the film’s critique of capitalism particularly compelling. One scene that stood out to me was when a landowner arbitrarily raised the price of land, leading to a physical fight. Nino’s sarcastic remark about Sicily being “civilized” right after this conflict felt ironic and pointed to a larger commentary on power and corruption. Rather than portraying capitalism as a system of opportunity, the film presents it as one where those with power manipulate the rules for their own gain. This makes me wonder—does Nino himself believe in the stereotypes about the South? How does Il Mafioso compare to other Mafia films in how it portrays capitalism? And is the divide between North and South more rooted in cultural attitudes or economic structures?
Il Mafioso is such an interesting take on the mafia film because it doesn’t lean into the typical glorification of crime or violence. Instead, it’s almost absurd in how quietly terrifying the mafia’s reach is. Antonio, seems like he has completely escaped his Sicilian roots—he’s built a successful life in Milan, working as a factory manager, proud of his efficiency and modern mindset. But when he takes his wife and daughters back to Sicily for what’s supposed to be a relaxing visit, it becomes clear that he never really left. What stands out is how seamlessly the mafia asserts control over him, not through overt threats or dramatic confrontations, but through a quiet, almost bureaucratic process. His trip home feels like a series of small but irreversible steps toward a fate he doesn’t fully grasp until it’s too late.
One of the most unsettling moments is when he’s called in by Don, the local boss, and handed a task like it’s a normal favor between old friends. The tension isn’t in whether he’ll accept but it’s in the fact that there’s never even a question of refusal. The film makes it clear that in this world, there’s no such thing as free will, only obligations that were set in place long before Antonio even understood them. The mafia feels inevitable. That’s what makes Il Mafioso so different. The mafia isn’t shown as a thrilling or dangerous lifestyle, but as a system so ingrained in the culture that people don’t realize they’re trapped until it’s far too late.
After watching Il Mafioso, I was struck by the duality of our protagonist in comparison to previous films we’ve seen. Antonio was a relatable common man, working hard in Milan, excited to show his family his home. However, once he arrived in Sicily, Nino’s other side was revealed. The audience is initially aligned with Antonio, the devoted family man, the cheerful optimist, but soon find themselves confronted with Nino, the man forged by obligation and loyalty to an order. As time went on in Sicily, the contrast between Antonio and Nino blurred, and we could see his duality fading. Even the warm greeting from Don Vincenzo was marked by ominousness. The assassination he was forced to carry out marked the true death of his dual identity. Antonio, the cheerful, optimistic working man from Milan, ceased to exist. What remained was Nino, the mobster from Sicily. This transformation underscores one of Il Mafioso’s central themes: the paralyzing, perpetual nature of the mafia.
A key part of Lattuada’s success was his refusal to romanticize any aspect of the mafia. Unlike other films that depict the allure of a higher life, Il Mafioso strips away this illusion. Even mafia favors, often seen as tokens of respect and power, are presented with a grim, unsettling tone. If anything, the film romanticizes the simple, predictable life of the common man, a life that Antonio once had. Beginning the film with the modest Antonio relates the audience much more than a deified Don Corleone type. I think Lattuada additionally highlights the fragility of this seemingly ordinary existence, making the point that although less glorified, it must be appreciated
Il Mafioso examines the relationship between capitalism and the mafia. While we have brushed on this topic on class a few times, we haven’t taken an in depth dive into the topic. This did make me recall the Al Capone quote that we read in class—”When I sell liquor, it’s called bootlegging; when my patrons serve it on Lake Shore Drive, it’s called hospitality.” In other words, the mafia perspective was that while some of their business revolved around illicit substances, the government’s legal definition of right and wrong didn’t align with many members’ moral convictions.
In Il Mafioso, we are able to see two sides of capitalism. Antonio is a model for the corporate world, working in a factory in Milan. Everything is very by the book and Antonio is complacent in working for the system. The Mafia, however, has its own form of capitalism which reflects the more realistic world we live in. In this version of capitalism, there are unwritten rules, violence and coercion, and nepotism. This contrast also manifests itself through cultural differences between the north and the south. While the north is the industrial capital of Italy, thriving on economic progress and industry (which is symbolized through the factory in the film,) the south remains tied to tradition and unspoken power dynamics/relationships.
I want to preface that I will be going over the 300 word requirement for this reflection because I have a lot of thoughts I want to flesh out; sorry in advance. Having never previously watched the Godfather movies, I thoroughly enjoyed this movie because it clarified the plotline behind the characters. The Godfather movies, specifically Godfather I interchanges both intentionally separating business from family and having business and family work together. This causes me to question what the intention of the mafia members actually was. To separate business and family or have them work together? The first thing I found odd from Godfather I was when Vito was up in his office listening to people’s requests rather than celebrating his own daughter’s wedding. “The Supplement of Coppola” notes that the multitude of meetings on such a special day is intentional because Vito is more willing to do people favors to keep a positive mood. Additionally, when people came to ask Vito favors, they often exercised what “The Supplement of Coppola” defines as primitive accumulation or a supplemental action. They often started with the legal process to get their favor done, but when that backfired, they went to Vito. Most of their favors surrounded family concerns, furthering the idea that Vito’s “clients” were ok with mixing business and family when it would benefit their family and would get their family the justice they believed they deserved. Though these matters were in a private office (separating business and family), they still took place at a wedding (combining family and business) and surrounded family needs.
Another time when business and family seemed oddly intertwined was when Michael was at the hospital visiting his father and the police attempted to arrest Michael despite the fact that he wasn’t involved in his father’s business and had no previous record. This proves to show that though Michael once had aspirations to separate family and business, it was inevitably inseparable, dispelling his promise to Kay when he noted, “that’s not me Kay, that’s my family” while at his sister’s wedding. However, after Michael takes over his father’s business, it is interesting to see his ideals for separating family and business. Maybe this is to honor Vito’s legacy and prevent future generations from getting involved in business, just as “The Supplement of Coppola” notes Vito never wanted Michael to follow in his footsteps, or maybe it’s Michael’s innocence attempting to justify his murders and illegitimate business endeavors. At first, Michael promises Kay, “In five years the Corleone family is going to be completely legitimate.” Furthermore, Michael intentionally kills his brother-in-law after he becomes the godfather of the brother-in-law and sister’s child. Though he intentionally scheduled the killing after the holy event (which can be viewed as separating business and family) he still kills his own family member (which can be viewed as directly correlating business and family). I’m particularly curious about the real-life connection between the mafia and the mafia’s family. Is business intended to be separate from the family or intertwined?
Francis Ford Coppola’s 1972 film, The Godfather Part I details Michael Corleone reluctant dive into his family’s Mafia empire, which was led by his father Don Vito Corleone. In Carl Freedman’s article “The Supplement of Coppola: Primitive Accumulation and the Godfather Trilogy,” he discusses The Godfather trilogy in terms of primitive accumulation, Karl Marx’s theory of capitalism that states the process of separating producers from the means of production. The article argues that the film illustrates the violence and exploitation that is a component of capitalism. This is seen throughout the film’s depiction of the Corleone family’s violent actions. I found it very interesting how Freedman explains the “fall narrative.” He challenges the common interpretation, that I also had while watching the films, of a moral decline from Vito to Michael, particularly in the first Godfather itself. In the beginning of the film, Michael is an Ivy League Marine War hero who the audience would never imagine would descend into his family’s life of crime. However, by the end of the film, he is a ruthless murderer. This interpretation of the “fall” focuses on Michael’s escalation of violence, in contrast with Vito’s more traditional paternalistic family values: “Vito […] maintains a more aesthetically attractive persona than any of his sons can manage” (19), which was true for me as a viewer. I liked reading about Freeman’s interpretation of the fall – that Michael is not a departure from Vito’s methods, but rather a continuation – “Michael does nothing that Vito has not made possible” (20). I was intrigued by this re-framing of the fall narrative and how the audience can view Michael’s shocking transformation as a logical result of Vito’s ways, further highlighting the cycle of ongoing and inherent violence within the Corleone crime family.
Having watched Godfather 3 and now Godfather 1, I found the relationship between family and power to be a core theme of the trilogy and an interesting comparison between the two movies. Throughout the semester we have discussed the connection between the idea of the Mafia with family and power. In my opinion, The Godfather series does a good job of highlighting a core theme: the corruption of power on the family unit, especially with regards to the Mafia. Throughout all the mafia movies we have watched thus far, there has been a dichotomy between men turning to the mafia for fortune and power but demanding the rest of their family, especially mothers, sisters, and children be removed from the dark side of the “business”. In my opinion, this is where the downfall of the mafia members begins. It does not begin with killing or violence but begins in the separation of their lives, family and work. Especially with immigrant families that focus on the importance of family, there is no way to separate family and work without turmoil and distrust. The Godfather remarks on this idea as Michelle is removed from the mafia business in order to protect his innocence but ultimately is brought into the business to protect his father. This separation of life, becomes a double life that ultimately becomes the ruin of the mafia member. Within all the movies we have watched, by separating their lives into two worlds, each world ends up affecting the other and comes crashing down on the mafia member. Within The Godfather, the first film focuses on the rise and stabilization of the Corleone family and the third film, which we have already watched, shows themes of legacy, redemption, and the destructive nature of power to the individual and the family unit. I would like to reflect more of this idea within class: How does the separation of family and business cause the ruin of the mafia?
The opening is powerful and sets up the background of Don Corleone and what it means to be a “Don.” Poor immigrants coming to the United States at that time chasing the American Dream believe they will be greeted upon arrival at our shores by “official” America – the connected people and the bureaucracy, in other words the “Pezzonovante.” But Amerigo Bonasera learns that it had all been a farce. Bonasera had trusted in the law and order and he had prospered. He had felt, though being an immigrant, that he had accepted America and they had accepted him. The fallacy of this hit him when, in the trial of the boys who had beaten his daughter, the judge suspended the sentence of the boys, they got off scot free.
He was not fully American; he was not fully accepted. Is the Godfather a story about family immigration and assimilation as well as a story of one particular Italian mafia family? I think it is.
We see that as immigrants come to this country, they the lack power and connections of the more established people. The way, at the start, for the new immigrants to get a firm base in the country is for them collectively work together in their own communities. In the Godfather, they do this through Don Corleone. He leverages his power and connections to the benefits of his family, business family, and the community. This is seen repeatedly whether it is Bonasera, Nazorine, or Johnny Fontaine.
But even the Godfather, who believes that short-term success will come through relying on the “family” and the tight-knit community of immigrants, he knows that long-term, there must be assimilation into the larger American society. But you must attain power first so that entry into American society is done on equal terms with those already in it.
His plans for Michael were for him to be the son the crosses over to legitimacy. To attain that power first there needs to be a transition. We see that Michael made the transition very quickly. He eschewed his father’s connections to keep him out of the war and enlisted. He went to an Ivy league school. He’s dating the most WASP girl ever. Michael was going to be the “legitimate” Corleone and live the American Dream. He wasn’t involved in the family business.
But then due to Sonny’s inability to keep his mouth shut, the Don is attacked. Sonny further digs a whole for the family by allowing his temper and rashness to put him in a situation where he gets murdered. This pulls Michael unexpectedly into entering the family business. Even though Sonny and the other men in the family teased Michael about being a college boy, Clemenza says “we was all proud of you for being a hero and all, your father too.” Later, the Don, when talking to Michael in the garden says “I never wanted this for you. …I work my whole life – I don’t apologize – to take care of my family, and I refused to be a fool, dancing on the string held by all those bigshots. I don’t apologize – that’s my life – but I thought that, that when it was your time, that you would be the one to hold the string. Senator Corleone; Governor Corleone.” Both Don Corleone’s and Michael’s dreams were dashed by the industry of violence.
One theme that I noticed throughout the Godfather movies and that was noted in “The Supplement of Coppola: Primitive Accumulation and the Godfather Trilogy” is the way that the Don is never able to fully enjoy any family milestones or events because he is always taking meetings throughout them. At the beginning of The Godfather, this can be seen when the wedding guests queue to make requests of Don Vito and even at Vito’s funeral when Tessio pulls Michael aside to set up a meeting with Barzini. In this way, the Don never truly gets to enjoy all of the joys he has worked for because it is always tainted by business. This inability to separate business and personal life on days when most people’s work would be last on their minds highlights the unique tragedy of becoming the head of a crime family. The supplement notes how in all three Godfather films, the Godfather granting requests is a key part of celebratory gatherings as a way to keep the good spirits of the event. In this way, the Godfather is forced to sacrifice his own celebration in order to keep others happy, and they take advantage of this fact, maintaining a cycle that keeps the Don in his office and away from his family. This can be seen, in my opinion, as a metaphor for how the mafia business drives Michael away from his family.
Having never seen Francis Ford Coppola’s “The Godfather”, I thoroughly enjoyed watching it after I had read Carl Freedman’s : “The Supplement of Coppola: Primitive Accumulation and the Godfather Trilogy”. We have previously discussed in class the connections between the mafia and capitalism, and how the mafia is a direct result of capitalism, so it was interesting watching the movie through that lens. It was very explicit the way that Coppola displayed how violently extortionist capitalism is, and how the perils of the mafia parallel those of capitalism. While the mafia displays physical and immediate violence, the violence of capitalism can be a bit more subtle. Freedman explains that Karl Marx defines primitive accumulation as “a process of staggering disruption, fraud, theft and violence” (9), in which the rich commodify land and labor and force the peasantry to earn what was previously their right. This is how capitalism took hold in the first place, replacing the feudal economies of earlier societies, and is similar to the structure of the mafia. Freedman describes an iron line between legality and criminality, and how the laws under a capitalist society exist to draw that line to prevent capitalist ownership to be viewed as criminal. Because of this, he is able to draw a connection between the luxury of criminality that Don Corleone and other mafiosi experience and that of the luxury of acts that are deemed non-criminal by capitalist laws, but would be criminal without those distinctions. He explains that the definitions of legality established by capitalism as being born of the unilateral abrogation of property and contractual rights and on brute physical force. Don Corleone blurs the line between crime and legality, with his many political and judicial connections that he flaunts throughout the film, similar to what capitalism does. Don Corleone participates in acts of violence and in bribery, which both toy with the law and with justice as a concept.
Reading the Freedman article and rewatching Godfather Part 1 led me to think a lot more about the significance of the opening scene of the film. After watching the movie for the first time a few months ago, I remember questioning the importance of that opening scene, as it felt like Bonasera’s anecdote and the subsequent action taken by Don Corleone’s men was not a significant part of the plot throughout the film. Rewatching the film for a second time now, I was much more attuned to the way in which the theme of America is conveyed through this scene, as described in the Freedman article. Seeing this scene again, I think the story expressed by Bonasera almost serves as a sociopolitical commentary on the influence of the mafia in the US. The situation depicted in the opening scene reflects a man who is, like Don Corleone, an Italian immigrant who attempted to get justice for what happened with his daughter in a legitimate way by reporting the crime to the police “like a good American.” However, we learn that nothing was really done, and the boys are now walking free with no punishment. In order to truly restore justice, Bonasera must turn to what Freedman refers to as “a much older and more personal kind of authority.” Here, the mafia serves as an organization that exists almost above American law and order. I also find it essential that the film starts out with this exchange of favors that is characteristic of mafia operations, at least in mafia movies. Historically, mafia movies have shown the exchange of favors (with the purpose of upholding this unique kind of law and order) as a currency in its own right. We see this in Il Mafioso, as the returning of a favor for old mafiosi friends is what leads Antonio to New York. This exchange of favors is unique to the industry of violence, as favors carried out often involve the use of violence to restore order or justice in some way. By opening up the film with this scene that is centered around such a favor, America, and the failure of the American legal system to restore order in Bonasera’s situation, Coppola almost suggests that this currency of violent favors is what enabled the mafia to thrive as an organization, particularly in the U.S. context that is, in some ways, almost equally corrupt.
Bonasera’s opening monologue in The Godfather establishes the American Dream as a myth—one not built on honesty and hard work, but on violence, greed, and exploitation. The film’s lingering impact is unmistakable—the loss of innocence in Michael’s eyes and the degradation of a once-proud family. Yes, Michael has settled all family business by the film’s end, but at what cost, and by what means? As Freedman describes, “Michael does nothing that Vito has not made possible.” Vito foresees the exact plan their enemies will use to kill Michael, and Michael’s response is swift and ruthless, driven by power and greed, with little regard for his family’s honor or well-being—evident in his calculated decision to have Carlo killed.
In this regard, Vito and Michael differ drastically. The initial conflict, sparked by Vito’s refusal of Sollozzo’s deal, highlights the qualities that make Vito a more successful man, Don, and patriarch than his sons. From a purely rational standpoint, accepting Sollozzo’s proposal—despite its moral compromise—would have been the obvious choice for anyone seeking to maximize wealth. Yet, Vito values intangible qualities such as honor and the “friendship” he preaches throughout the film over financial gain. As a true Sicilian, his word holds more weight than it does for his spoiled children.
Vito embodies the ideal Don, balancing sweetness, strength, and ruthlessness. However, none of his sons inherit all these qualities. Instead, they are fragmented across his children: sweetness in Fredo, strength in Sonny, and ruthlessness in Michael. Vito’s guiding principle is clear—family comes first. In contrast, Sonny and Michael’s actions dismantle the family. One can only imagine Vito rolling in his grave upon witnessing Michael murder Carlo.
The Godfather (1972) is indeed a masterpiece; the emotional performances of Al Pacino and Marlon Brando and Coppola’s narrative structure and stylistic choices made this film unparalleled to the previous two films we’ve discussed in the trilogy. The film opens with what Freedman asserts as an introduction to the several motifs central to the trilogy, with Bonasera begging Vito Corleone- who is surrounded by the many figures that take part in his organized system of crime- to help him after the American justice system failed to honor his daughter. It was interesting to consider how significant Coppola’s choice was to start the story with a character who plays no critical role in the overall narrative of the film, immediately highlighting the immense power and influence Vito Corleone has. These business affairs occur during the wedding celebration of his daughter Connie, revealed through the use of parallel montage: bright and happy scenes of a religious celebration are juxtaposed with the dark study of Don Vito Corleone petting his cat. This use of parallel montage is also apparent and – in my opinion, most noteworthy- during the film’s final moments, when we see the baptizing of Connie’s child intercut with several murders by order of Michael, the new Godfather. Once again, Coppola juxtaposes a religious event with the violence of the mafia and organized crime; it is deeply ironic how a moment is supposed to be sacred and pure, and it is one of the most violent moments of the film. What’s even more striking is how, by the end of the film, Michael lies to his wife, Kay, about killing Connie’s husband- another sin he has committed. This sequence of murders is followed by the closing of the door and Michael’s descent to become the cold murderer we would see realized in the second film.
The movie How to Kill a Judge combined classic mafia movie themes like family and the press connecting to the real world while not being a traditional mafia movie. The whole time during the movie, the audience was set up to believe that this was a classic mafia film. I thought during the movie that the judge must be corrupt and it was probably the mafia man that had the most to lose from the judge going on trial that killed him, however that was not the case. It was found out by the end of the movie that the wife had ordered the doctor who she was having an affair with to kill her own husband. The theme of family is always very strong with mafia movies and it is usually the case where the mafia boss claims that he cares very much for his family but ends up neglecting them due to business duties. In this case it was his wife that turned on him which is not the normal for this type of movie. I also saw throughout the movie that Solaris’ movie was impacting what was happening in real lfe. Since the movie was such a big hit and it was modeled after the judge, everyone thought that the judge was corrupt. It was revealed at the end of the movie that this gave the wife the idea that her husband was not invincible and everyone would believe that it was a mafia man that killed him since the movie was currently popular in theatres. I really enjoyed the movie because it was different from everything we have seen so far. The general structure mafia movies follow is a mafia boss that gains power and then meets their downfall by the end of the film. For most of the time we were led to believe that this movie followed a similar structure, but the ending twist revealed that it was all part of a bigger plot to cover up the affair and child that the wife of the judge had. The killing in the end had nothing to do with the mafia.
Since I first saw it, I have always ranked The Godfather (1972) as my favorite movie of all time. I truly believe that no other movie is its parallel on the subject of dialogue, cinematography, action and plot. The ease at which the plot advances is seamless, with no unnecessary deviations that bore you. What always comes to my mind is in the opening scene when Michael introduces Tom Hagen as his brother to which Kay asks about Hagen having a different name and Micahel not only explaining Tom’s background but also revealing the idea of consigliere to the viewers. As for Bonasera’s opening monologue, I think it’s perfection. The fade in from black and the long take is amazing. Furthermore, I think that it sets up the purpose of the mafia and how Don Corleone got so powerful. By indebting people, he could call in favors from all sorts of professions when it became useful to him. We see this pay off when Vito calls upon Bonasera to prepare Sonny’s body. In the opening monologue alone, we see who operates at the core of the mafia: the boss, his son, and his consigliere (also his son).
We already discussed in class how his speech is emblematic of the American dream and its failures, but I don’t agree. I think it more accurately depicts a failure in American justice, and is not a criticism of the Dream itself. To expand on that subject, why does Bonasera go to Don Corleone? “For justice”. It was justice that was not given when the judge suspended the sentence, we do not know the reason why, but for the sake of the argument we can assume that it was prejudiced. Bonasera still successfully set himself and his business up of being a mortician, he assimilated and therefore succeeded in the dream. When it came to justice, it failed for whatever reason. I believe that Coppola is making a criticism of the American justice system and in many cases how it fails to deliver on its main purpose which is the reason why these underworld organizations are able to thrive. They deliver the justice that the government cannot. They enforce Hammurabi’s code “an eye for an eye”, the type of vengeance a father will absolutely want for his daughter’s attackers.
I think that you could probably teach a semester-long class on just the Godfather and still not have enough time to talk about it all. I wanted to talk briefly about a moment in Michael’s character development in the first half of the movie (right until the death of Apollonia). When we are introduced to him, Michael is the outsider: he went to college, and then fought in the war and has no part in his dad’s business. But slowly, due to circumstances outside of his control, he adapts to a new role that he must play to save his family. The pivotal moment for Michael is when he is in the study with Tom, Sonny, Tessio and Clemenza shortly after the hospital encounter with McClusky. We see Michael adopt a different demeanor, when he suggests that he kill Sollozzo and McClusky, the viewer sees that Michael means it. His eyes are cold and we see a killer being born. The only one in the room that does not laugh when Michael says this is Tom, because he also recognizes that Michael is not messing around. This is the turning point in Michael’s development and where we see him fully embrace his calling. This scene is further supported from the previous scene where after Mike and Enzo scare off the would-be assassins, Enzo’s hands are shaking while Michael’s are still, indicating that he is calm under pressure (since he served in the war). The final nail in the coffin of the old Michael is when Apollonia dies. Her death marks the death of the innocence of Mike and marks the birth of Don Corleone.
Damiano Damiani’s How to Kill a Judge (1974) offers a critique of the Italian judicial system, portraying it as an institution that is susceptible to corruption and external influence. The film’s narrative mirrors the Dickie reading, where the Mafia infiltrates legal and political institutions to maintain power. At the film’s beginning, it is assumed that the murdered judge was corrupt, like his depiction in Giacomo Solaris’ fictionalized portrayal. This perception suggests that the justice system is not neutral, but rather open to influence. The investigation of Solaris reveals the instability of the justice system where justice is more a perception than a reality. The judicial system as shown in the film closely reflects Solaris’ construction, not a transparent institution but a malleable mechanism which can be dictated by outside interests. The systems designed to uphold the law become open to intimidation and violence. Dickie similarly details that the Mafia controlled judicial outcomes in Sicily through bribery, coercion, and violence. As shown in the film and Dickie’s reading, the judiciary system is an extension of corruption. Justice in the film and in Dickie’s reading suggest that it functioned more as an illusion (complicit in or susceptible to corruption) rather than a functioning system.
Does How to Kill a Judge suggest that corruption is inevitable, or does it leave room for the possibility of reform? How does this compare with Dickie’s historical perspective?
These mafia stories provide both a disillusioning and romanticized view of the American Dream. The opening line of Godfather Part 1 is, “I believe in America.” This line is said by Bonasera, an immigrant whose daughter is later killed. Time after time, we have witnessed the death of innocent loved ones. From Mary in Godfather Part III to Cesca in Scarface, it is often women and innocents who bear the brutal consequences of their family’s businesses. As Freedman puts it, this perspective, a viewpoint of the hardships that come with violently achieved success, is an apt summary of capitalism. Following Marx’s ideas, Freedman believes that this violent and extortionary nature of the mob is the purest form of the American dream and is integral to the definition of capitalism. Vito’s bloody rise to power (in Godfather II) that follows him taking over and dismantling existing “institutions” for his personal gain and vendetta is a perfect example. This idea of “primitive accumulation,” a blind and endless chase for material success, follows previous discussions we have had about the true (and unachievable) nature of the American Dream. However, while this stories have grim and gritty aspects (i.e. the amount of people slaughtered in the streets from Sonny to Judge Traini), they also hold a certain whismical nature about them. Whether it is Solaris’ life mirroring the film or the baptism scene in Godfather Part I, these tales are both cautionary and fictionial. They portray the real consequences of immoral climbs to power and how the mafias are in fact following the only possible way to achieve the American Dream. But the real question arises in the worth of this dream. In the Godfather Trilogy, we see Michael’s loss of morality (through his anchor Kay) and transition into a mob boss. What worth is success if you have no one to celebrate it with? This fantasy of the American Dream is in fact a grim and sob tale of unrelenting ambition that breeds violence and destructive and more often than not, impacts the innocents in the story–perhaps a fitting metaphor for the cost of capitalism.
Damiano Damiani’s How to Kill a Judge (1974) and John Dickie’s The Origins of the Second Mafia War (1970–1982) both discuss a period of unrest and brutality within the Cosa Nostra. The film and book both draw from the extensive corruption and factional infighting that marked this time. Dickie’s work describes how the Corleonesi, under the leadership of Totò Riina, systematically murdered their mafia opponents to in order to amass more control of Sicily. Unlike others before it, this war escalated into what Dickie refers to as a mattanza, a massacre. Riina ordered the assassinations of many prominent mafiosos like Stefano Bontate and Salvatore Inzerillo as well as judges, politicians, and anyone else he viewed as a threat. His war path ultimately forced the Sicilian government to respond, culminating in the Maxi Trial of the 1980s. How to Kill a Judge responds to this period through its portrayal of a filmmaker investigating the assassination of a judge. The film depicts a Sicily where crime and politics are virtually indistinguishable. The protagonist’s pursuit of the truth mirrors the actual struggles of judges who worked against the mafia. They, of course, became targets as they exposed the collusion between organized crime and the Sicilian government. Both the historical events covered in Dickie’s text and the film expose that the mafia’s influence extended beyond just what we know on the surface, infiltrating both corporate and governmental institutions at every level. Under Riina’s rule, Cosa Nostra evolved from a loose network into a rigid, almost army like structure.
The reading for this week was an amazing supplement to the incredibly thrilling film How to Kill a Judge. Reading Dickie’s segment first gave me a glimpse at similar themes discussed in prior classes at just how strategic the mafia was in gaining power through adapting to environmental changes. To combat the growing apprehension towards their criminal organization as word of their existence spread, they began to thrive “by infiltrating the legal state and twisting it to its own purposes.” It was extremely vicious and engrossing to see just how they manipulated parties and those in governmental roles, such as when they kidnapped Moro for 55 days. Viewing the movie, however, gave a clear, visual representation at just how potent the mafia was that no words could ever portray. As Solaris began his investigation on the corrupt prosecutor’s murder, more twists appeared that threatened his life as well as his friends’ (the bombing of the publication station as well as the brutal motorcycle killing cemented the criminal organization as truly unscrupulous for me). The pure existence of the mafia hovering over Solaris’ head, causing him to be unable to fully trust anyone with all the information he obtained, was enough to motivate so much of the enthralling plot. What did strike me, however, was the ending when it was revealed to be Signora Traini and her lover who killed her husband. This made me rethink the film’s themes and perspective towards the mafia. Could Damiani be suggesting that there are other powerful influences (love?) that could be even more dangerous than the mafia itself? Or did he just want an interesting plot twist to throw audiences off? Regardless, he did a great job at showing the corruption of the judicial and political system as they bent to the mafia’s control.
This movie was shocking! Out of all the mafia films we have seen, this felt the least “mafia-like.” If anything, it aligned more with a traditional sense of justice, whereas other mafia films often blur the line between vengeance and justice. Interestingly, the political figures in this film were far more villainous than the mafia. I found it compelling how Solaris begins the film as a well-liked character, connected to everyone—mafia figures, journalists, and police officers alike. His likability allows him to use his connections to advocate for truth and justice. However, by the end, his mafia friend is shot dead, the journalists feel betrayed by his pursuit of truth over their business interests, and his police officer friend literally shuts the door in his face. Yet, despite being left completely alone, Solaris stands by his choices, refusing to stoop to the judge’s level of corruption.
I was thrilled to finally see a female lead with actual significance to the plot! As her role grew, I found myself respecting and rooting for her—even hoping for something between her and Solaris. And then, just when I was fully invested, she betrayed me! I was hurt. However, the character I felt for the most was the young boy, clearly neglected and left with no parents. Mafia movies are interesting in this sense as they will open the door for a potential plot, but then never fully explore it. Many of the films end with me pondering, “what ever happened to that character?”
After reading Carl Freedman’s analysis of The Godfather trilogy, it’s become a little more clear how Coppola’s films can be read as a metaphor for the development of American capitalism.
Freedman argues that the trilogy, particularly through Michael Corleone’s transformation, mirrors what Marx called “primitive accumulation”, or the often violent process through which capitalism first establishes itself. Just as early capitalists used force to create the conditions for “legitimate” business, the Corleone family’s journey from street-level crime to corporate power tells the story of American capital’s evolution.
What strikes me most is how the trilogy portrays this transition. In the original movie, we see relatively straightforward criminal activities – protection rackets, gambling, and bootlegging. But by the third film, the family is deeply involved in international banking and real estate. Michael’s attempt to legitimize the family business by investing in the Vatican bank isn’t just about respectability, but also a way criminal or “dirty” capital becomes “clean” corporate wealth. This idea can be connected to the baptism scene, where at the same time that Michael becomes godfather in church, his men eliminate rival gangsters across the city. Freedman suggests this sequence perfectly captures the violence underlying supposedly legitimate power. Just as early capitalism required force to establish itself, Michael’s rise to corporate legitimacy is built on bloodshed. Having now watched the full trilogy, I can confidently say that it’s not just a family saga or a crime-based triller, but a story about how power transforms itself: from the street corner to the boardroom.
After reading John Dickie’s analysis of ‘The Origins of the Second Mafia War,’ I’ve developed an odd sense of awe for the mafioso industry. Luciano Leggio was pursued for years, made money off of murder, and made economic decisions for political gain. Despite these slimy motivations, I still find myself contemplating the business acumen of successful mafia men. Despite suffering from several health issues and being ‘on the run,’ Leggio pursued a business of livestock breeding as a front for his operation, primarily to rival his boss and control his mafia empire. It makes me curious as to what drives him to such plots; is it greed, pride, or just pure competition?
Based on film portrayals, it seems like it’s a combination. What drove Rico in Little Caesar was a mix of ambition, fear, and pride. Rico wanted to be the top dog in the big city. While these aren’t traits reserved for Mafia men, plenty of businessmen have them too, what sets the Mafioso apart is the cyclical nature of how the mafia keeps them entangled and the lengths bosses are willing to go to get to the top. Through a mix of horror and awe, I observed the story of Luciano Leggio.
I hate to get political, but I must be honest, I only got part way through the Supplement of Coppola article by Freedman before stopping in disgust. I like some of his insights about the movie. But when he delves into economic systems, he loses me. My life experiences tell me that his Marxist/Socialist slant is wrong-headed and might only work in his theoretical mind. This is not to say that capitalism is a perfect system. Willi Schlamm said “The problem with capitalism is capitalists, the problem with socialism is socialism.” So, yes, bad people/organizations – the Mafia – can take advantage in a capitalist system, but that doesn’t mean the system doesn’t work. The Mafia, as we know, can be brutal, but they’ve killed a lot less people than marxism/socialism/communism.
I traveled throughout Eastern Europe in October and November of 1989 (I was at the Berlin Wall when it came down) during the unraveling of the Soviets’ grip on those countries. I traveled throughout the Soviet Union in 1993 during their constitutional crisis. The erosion of basic living conditions would be shocking if they happened in the west. There was a widespread lack of food and some of what was available were below our standards. I lost 24 pounds in 30 days traveling the Soviet Union because even in the government selected hotels for foreign travelers, there was a lack of food. In 1993, I was the General Sales Manager for Procter & Gamble in charge of the former Soviet block countries. Even in Eastern Europe four years after the Wall came down, living conditions were poor. One of the things that propelled the increase of living conditions was investments from foreign firms that paid better wages, trained local people, worked to improve local infrastructure, etc. In 1994, I was put in charge of the Balkan region of Europe, from Moldova across to Slovenia. The rapid improvements in living conditions were stark in comparison to what they were previously from access to information, entertainment, mobility, health care, etc. Spare me the Marxist rhetoric.
I thought the movie How to Kill a Judge (1974) presented an interesting critique of Italy’s legal system and its entanglement with the Mafia. The film follows a director named Giacomo Solaris, whose fictionalized portrayal of a corrupt judge becomes real when the judge is suddenly assassinated. As Solaris investigates, he uncovers a system that intertwines crime and justice. I thought this film tied into the reading really well, as well. In chapter 6 of Dickie, He wrote a lot about how the mafia historically operated not just through brute force but through deep political and judicial entrenchment which I thought applied well to this film. I thought this film also built on themes from Salvatore Giuliano. Like Salvatore Giuliano, How to Kill a Judge avoids traditional gangster stereotypes and instead exposes the Mafia’s role in state corruption. Rather than trying to glorify mob violence, the film instead reveals how justice can be manipulated, something I saw in Il Mafioso where the Mafia’s influence stretched across both traditional and modern economic systems.What makes How to Kill a Judge stand out is its focus on the media’s complicity. I felt like The Godfather romanticized Mafia power, shaping public perception, whereas this film challenged the filmmaker’s role. Solaris’s work both reflects and influences real-world violence. I thought this also aligned with the reading from Alice Maurice’s reading on early Mafia films constructing racial and mythic stereotypes.
The Mafia thrives on controlling narratives, whether through media or violence. How to Kill a Judge follows a filmmaker whose exposé on judicial corruption collides with reality when the judge he critiques is murdered. His investigation reveals that power in Sicily isn’t just about crime—it’s about perception.
The Second Mafia War operated the same way. The Corleonesi eliminated rivals quietly, shifting power without making it obvious. Like in the film, those who seemed in control were often pawns in a larger game. The Mafia’s silence and misinformation were as dangerous as its violence.
Both stories show that exposing corruption doesn’t guarantee justice. The war led to government crackdowns, and the filmmaker’s work had unintended consequences. In the end, those who control the story hold the real power—until the system itself forces change.
I noticed strong parallels between Dickie’s description of the transformation of traditional Mafia structures and hierarchies in the early 1970s and the breakdown of order depicted in How to Kill a Judge. Dickie talks about how the traditional Mafia hierarchies, ones rooted in family, territory, and honor, underwent a violent transformation in the early/mid 1970’s. For the most part, younger, more ambitious gangsters, like the Corleonesi, rejected the precedent and norms of the past, utilizing brutalized, extreme violence as methods. A power vacuum emerged amongst the internal conflict, instability, and changing of the guard.
Similarly, we see traditional systems of power and order abandoned in How to Kill a Judge, leaving uncertainty and chaos. Although not part of the mafia, the judge’s assassination represents the failure of the familiar, traditional systems to establish control and order. Just as the Mafia’s shift created a vacuum of power in Sicily, the judge’s murder leaves a hole in the legal system, one quickly filled by corruption, manipulation, and violence. Both the historical account from Dickie and the film depict societies that show us the erosion of traditional structures and how their absence leads to a wild-west-esque, morally decaying power grab.
I think there is something to be said about the protagonist’s role as a witness to horror here. When the protagonist sees the judge get assassinated first hand, it feels anecdotal to the innocent Sicilians caught in the internal crossfire and collateral of the Second Mafia War. Dickie describes a period where many ordinary citizens suffered in a climate of fear and instability. We see further similarities as our filmmaker in How to Kill a Judge emulates this described dynamic, unwilling to assimilate to the new order and forced to navigate a new norm. In similar fashion to Rosi’s other movie, our protagonist’s misfortune is the storytelling tool to explore and investigate the corruption.
The film How to Kill a Judge offers interesting insight into the Mafia’s infiltration into the judiciary system. Giacomo Solaris directs a film that sheds light on the corruption of a judge who, at the end of his film, is murdered. Because the judge in Solaris’s film closely resembles a judge in the reality of How to Kill a Judge, he receives pushback and there are calls to get rid of the film, meanwhile much of the public vocalizes support for the film, celebrating the death of the judge on-screen. This reminded me a little bit of the censorship battle surrounding Scarface and that one of the issues was the allusion to Al Capone. To me it is interesting that How to Kill a Judge portrays how impactful cinema could be in evoking a variety of responses from the public. Additionally, I found it interesting how the plot seemed to fade in significance throughout the film. In the beginning, Solaris is concerned with exposing the corruption of the judge. After the judge’s death, he is concerned with investigating the killer. As Solaris continues to investigate, he uncovers just how deep the corruption runs within the judiciary system, meanwhile the plot of the film gets more confusing and the killings increase. This feels to be reflective of the time being portrayed–a somewhat mysterious and deeply interconnected mafia along with an increase in violent crimes.
There are a couple key connections between the article and the film that I found interesting this week. First, I think the role of judiciaries is important to highlight due to the main plot of the movie being focused on the assassination. Dickie speaks on this a little bit in the article and the violence and fear that is placed on anti-mafia judges and lawyers throughout history is reflected in this film very clearly.
The film and article also highlighted the intertwining of the mafia with politics and how the mafia has used violence and manipulation to create control and influence within political systems. This is coupled with the increase of violence that was very characteristic of the second mafia war which was discussed in detail in Dickie’s reading. This violence was due to a change in mafia culture and custom in which tradition was sort of thrown out the window in some ways and replaced by new forms of more extreme violence to achieve organizational objectives. The film didn’t specifically hit on this as far as I could tell, however gaining political influence through the assassination of a judge is more extreme than many previous methods we’ve seen in this course.
Overall, I feel that this article puts the movie into better perspective based on the timeline of changes within mafia structure and how these changes resulted in a more violent form of the mafia as a whole.
Both How to Kill a Judge and the Cosa Nostra reflect how the mafia have embedded themselves into political and legal institutions as a way to maintain power. How to Kill a Judge explores the intertwining of the mafia and judicial system. The film also reflects real-life tensions that were occuring in the 1970s when the mafia had deeply infiltrated politics and law enforcement. In Cosa Nostra, Dickie explains how the Sicilian mafia evolved and included key events like the Second Mafia War. The war which was led by Salvatore “Toto” Riina and the Corleonesi faction, resulted in the systematic elimination of rival mafia bosses and many public officials including judges Giovanni Falcone and Paolo Borsellino. This second war reshaped how the mafia was able to centralize power especially at the hands of the Corleonesi family. So, the movie was able to connect how the killing of a judge in the movie also reflected real life and how the mafia was killing off anti-mafia magistrates to maintain their power and inflict fear in other people. Dickie also explained how the mafia was able to maintain power and sway outcomes through the judicial system with things such as violence and coercion. Both the movie and reading showcase how the judiciary system can be corrupted by the wrong people and functions more as this symbol of upholding the law when in reality it can be the complete opposite.
How to Kill a Judge is an self-aware film, in that it blends fiction and reality in a way that feels unsettling, especially when viewed in conjunction with the real history in Cosa Nostra. The film follows a filmmaker who makes a movie about a corrupt judge, only for that judge to be murdered in real life. This immediately raises questions about accountability, truth, and whether exposing corruption can actually change anything. Considering what was happening in Sicily then, this wasn’t just a fictional storyline but mirrored real events.
By the 1970’s, the Mafia had embedded itself in politics, law enforcement, and the judicial system. Anyone who tried to fight back, like Judge Scaglione, for example, was eliminated. Cosa Nostra highlights how Corleonesi under Leggio and Riina, launched a campaign of extreme violence to tighten their grip on Sicily. Judges, politicians, and Mafia members who didn’t fall in line were killed.
The movie also raises the idea that exposing corruption doesn’t necesserily lead to justice. Vitale in Cosa Nostra serves as the perfect example. His testimony was dismissed and was institutionalized instead of taken seriously. The mafia didn’t just rely on violence but also making sure no one believed those who spoke out.
What makes How to Kill a Judge so unsettling is that it doesn’t provide a clear resolution. It leaves us with questions of: if the entire system is corrupt, does revealing the truth make any difference? Is silence the only real option?
Both “How to Kill a Judge” (1974) and Dickie’s “The Origins of the Second Mafia War 1970-1982,” hone in on the infiltration and interaction of traditional power structures by the mafia. In the film, we see a judge assassinated in a way that directly parallels the real-life events–such as the direct targeting of activists, such as Peppino Impastato–and individuals in opposition to the mafia, such as whistleblowers. Additionally, we observe similar levels of institutional complicity in the film as Dickie mentions in this chapter: judges, politicians, and businessmen span not only turn a blind eye to but actively participate in mafia operations, such as facilitating the drug trade or strong-arming those opposed to it.
Additionally, the chapter and the film both underscore the transformation of the mafia as we get nearer to the 21st century–where early movements across Sicily exhibited feudal structures, the mafia discussed here further resemble their American counterparts with their centralized, ruthless enterprise. With that, I am left asking the following question: to what extent didmodern technology facilitate this transition?
The movie “How To Kill A Judge” was exciting to watch. I had never heard of this film before, but I found it very interesting because of its investigative format. The idea of the film as a self fulfilling prophecy involving the mafia was quite fascinating especially in combination with the readings for today as well. John Dickie highlighted the origins of the second mafia war as a brutal internal conflict within the Sicilian Mafia. This conflict extended beyond the Mafia itself to include politicians, judges, and journalists investigating the Mafia as targets as well. I felt as though “How To Kill A Judge” depicted the internal conflict of the Sicilian Mafia such that John Dickie explained. It was an interesting parallel between this particular story and the internal conflict the characters were challenged with such as justice vs. corruption as well as truth vs. self preservation. I thought that this reading allowed me to understand the film on a deeper level by understanding historically the conflict at hand. I also found it extremely interesting that at the beginning of the film it states “The events, characters, and names in this film are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people, facts, and events is unintended.” When I first read this I was a bit confused but after watching and reading the works for this class, I was able to understand that this was likely to protect the film makers, actors, and everyone else involved.
What stands out most to me in How to Kill a Judge and Dickie’s text is how resilient corrupt systems are. Even when they’re exposed, they don’t just collapse, they adapt. It seems as though power shifts hands, but the structures that allow corruption to thrive remain intact. The film and historical events illustrate this cycle, showing how deeply embedded these systems are and how difficult they are to dismantle. Even when individuals attempt to challenge corruption, they often face insurmountable obstacles, whether it’s personal risk, institutional inertia, or outright retaliation. In the film, the Judge’s assassination is not just about silencing one man. It is about protecting an entire system. The protagonist starts out believing he is making a documentary about justice, but as he digs deeper, it becomes clear that the lines between law and crime are blurred. I think a similar pattern appears in Dickie’s book with Leonardo Vitale, an early Mafia informant whose testimony was dismissed because authorities refused to take him seriously. Even when the truth is out in the open, it rarely leads to immediate change. The system simply reshapes itself to absorb the damage, ensuring that those in power remain protected while dissenting voices are ignored or eliminated. Both narratives highlight the challenges of holding power accountable. The Mafia’s shift under the Corleonesi, where violence became the primary tool of control, shows how corruption is not just about secrecy. Without real consequences, these systems seem to escalate. The film and historical record both suggest that exposing wrongdoing is only the first step and that lasting change requires something more like actual mechanisms that prevent power from reshaping itself into new forms. Otherwise, corruption remains a cycle rather than a problem that can ever truly be solved.
For class on 2/19:
There were many connections between Dickie’s writing that we had to read for class and in the film How to Kill a Judge. First of all, there is a clear connection when it comes to describing the systemic power of the mafia. Both Dickie and the film show how the heirarchy in the mafia has transformed over time and especially in the 1970s when this film was produced. At this time, we are able to see how the mafia went through a change as the stereotypes of the past were often changed in favor of a more extreme system. While this is clear in Dickie’s writing, we see this as well in How to Kill a Judge as corruption and violence takes place as a way to try and gain power/control. This new style of a harsher mafia deeply rooted in this corruption and violence at a political and legal level is reflected well here. These ideas were surprising for me to explore because of how the film seemed to be very realistic as well as a piece of fiction, and how the mafia system could adapt so well to such a harsh change. I also thought this was interesting to look at thinking back to older mafia films we had watched and comparing the styles of these. Although many filmic elements remain the same or have been advanced upon simply because of time or innovation, the representation of what the mafia fundamentally is has clearly changed. By this point, stereotypes have been established and interest has been grabbed, and now the power of the mafia structure is in the forefront. I don’t know how to perfectly describe what I am thinking here, but I just thought it was a really interesting evolution.
The extent to which the Mafia has permeated political and judicial systems and maintained control through violence and corruption is demonstrated by John Dickie’s Cosa Nostra and Damiano Damiani’s How to Kill a Judge (1974). The film blurs the boundaries between reality and fiction by telling the fictional but uncannily accurate story of a filmmaker whose film about a dishonest judge suddenly reflects actual events. The protagonist discovers the disturbing depth of Mafia influence as he investigates the judge’s murder, showing how institutional power held by criminal organizations may stifle or corrupt justice. Dickie’s historical analysis, which describes how the Corleonesi faction, led by Salvatore Riina, planned the brutal Second Mafia War, gives these ideas a real-life context. During this time, opposing politicians, magistrates, and Mafia bosses who threatened the Corleonesi’s hegemony were targeted for assassinations. Not only were judges like Paolo Borsellino and Giovanni Falcone removed as individuals, but they were also removed as representations of opposition to a system that was based on intimidation and terror. It was difficult to bring about significant change even after corruption was exposed because of the Mafia’s capacity to use both violence and political connections. The tenacity of criminal power systems is emphasized in the literature and the movie. Dickie’s narrative illustrates how these dynamics functioned in real life, even though How to Kill a Judge dramatizes the conflict between justice and systematic corruption. The goal of the Mafia’s hold on the legal system was to strengthen a whole system that was built to defend itself, not only to get rid of threats. These works, which combine historical accounts and fiction, show how pervasive corruption can be and how it may impede reform even when its cruelty is exposed.
While reading Dickie’s analysis of the origins of the “Second Mafia War” and watching How to Kill a Judge, I could not help but be reminded of one of the fundamental themes that we studied earlier: the mafia as an “industry of violence”.
Not only did the mafia leverage the resources around them in the community to advance their interests, they embedded themselves in the very fabric of Sicilian (and broader Italian) society, finding ways to profit off of their violence. The murder story in How to Kill a Judge perfectly represents the corruption that the mafia was creating. Even in the face of irrefutable proof of outside criminal influence, efforts to make a difference are often futile because the mafia is not merely a social organization. It became ingrained within the legal system (especially around the 70s and 80s), which Dickie goes on to prove with examples of assassinations of judges who did not conform to their agenda, etc.
In terms of the actual film content of How to Kill a Judge, I enjoyed the ‘plot within a plot’ structure in which the filmmaker in the movie captured an incident that precipitated the actual killing and the main plot of the movie. Of all the stylistic choices made throughout the film, the development of the plot stood out to me in particular; I found it unique and unlike any of the other movies we have studied thus far. Additionally, I did wonder if presenting the events of the film like this was a way to recognize the work done by members of the press, government, and public to pull back the curtain on the mafia’s business operations. Beyond it simply being an interesting plot line, I cannot think of another reason Damiani would have chosen to do this.
My favorite character in the film was Mr. Terrasini. I found him to be a supportive and transparent character in a film filled with secretive figures. Additionally, some of his lines were quite memorable. Early in the film, when he and Mr. Solaris are in the car, Solaris says to him “Without the mafia a good man like you could work honestly without the ‘code’. Without bullying or blackmail. Or becoming a bully himself.” To this, Terrasini replies “But how would I live, otherwise?” In class, we talked on multiple occasions about how much of the mafia’s origins are tied to a way of surviving – whether that be amongst harsh governmental guidelines, or conditions for immigrants, etc. Terrasini’s views of the mafia as a necessity align with early mafia beliefs. Later in the film, Solaris says he has never seen a murder victim, to which Terrasini replies “I have. When I was 10 years old. It was my father.” Reading this chapter of Cosa Nostra, family was mentioned in every story, especially troublesome familial backgrounds. Peppino’s story started with the explanation of his uncle’s horrifying death and Vitale’s father died when he was very young. While in their stories, they chose to break out of the mafia cycle that families stay in for generations, the deviation highlights the very existence of the structure itself. Terrasini was one of the many who accepted their fate and continued in his family’s footsteps/within the mafia’s pre-set structure. It interested me too that his character, which I felt was the one most frequently discussed as being part of the mafia, faced the most gruesome death scene within the whole movie. He was shot an enumerable amount of times and his corpse was the only one fully exhibited within the film. Perhaps it was symbolic of the violence those deeply entrenched in the mafia face.
The Godfather and How to Kill a Judge both examine the effect of power and how it corrupts. Coppola’s opening with Bonasera—a nobody character pleading to Vito—sets the tone perfectly. It’s not just about the mafia; it’s about how systems fail people. Bonasera’s “I believe in America” line becomes this bitter joke when you see his daughter’s story, and how the Corleones fill the void left by broken institutions. That wedding scene, cutting between celebration and Vito’s shadowy dealings, mirrors the baptism hits later—Coppola’s screaming that power always wears two faces. The sacred and the violent aren’t opposites; they’re partners.
How to Kill a Judge takes an alternative approach to this idea. The judge’s murder isn’t just a plot twist—it’s Dickie’s history lesson alive on screen. When the system’s so rotted that even “good” judges are assumed corrupt, people can lose faith in their power systems. Similar to Dickie’s point about the Corleonesi: violence isn’t just for control, it’s to enforce complicity. Both stories leave a sense of emptiness at the end with Michael’s lie to Kay. How to Kill a Judge’s unresolved ending suggests that there are no heroes, only cycles. The director asks not only if corruption’s inevitable—but how it thrives when we mistake silence for survival.
How to Kill a Judge exposes how deeply the mafia had infiltrated the judicial system and made justice nearly impossible. The film’s protagonist, a filmmaker investigating judicial corruption, soon realizes that the institutions meant to uphold the law are complicit in crime and reflected the real Sicilian mafia’s grip on power.
By the 1970s, Cosa Nostra had evolved beyond extortion and racketeering into an entity that had fully embedded itself into the state. Luciano Leggio and his Corleonesi faction exemplified this shift by infiltrating mafia influence within the courts, politics, and law enforcement. Judges who challenged this system often faced violent retribution, as seen in the assassinations of Giovanni Falcone and Paolo Borsellino. Even when the state sought to curb mafia power, it faced resistance not just from criminals but from within, where state officials had been compromised or coerced into complying with the mafia’s will.
The film’s narrative aligns with reality at the time which was a system where those in power preferred maintaining the status quo over confronting deep-seated corruption. How to Kill a Judge underscores how for decades, the mafia’s influence was so deeply entrenched in the judicial system that attempts at reform were met with deadly retribution. The Corleonesi’s ability to manipulate the legal framework to their advantage highlights the truth that systems of organized crime like the mafia become the most dangerous and adaptable when they are no different than the state. This also reminds me of the earlier story about the dead man found in the barrel when his relatives changed their testimony in court for fear of retribution from the mafia. The mafia had instilled such fear in the public that the judicial system was powerless to hold them accountable.
For Feb 19: I found that the movie was surprisingly aligned quite accurately with the reading’s historical content. The entanglement of the Mafia with corruption to escape lawful punishments was well reflected in the movie especially because the main plot was to investigate the murder of a judge. The murder of this judge reflected real life cases where many were assassinated for acting out against the mafia such as Judge Giovanni Falcone. I am personally a fan of movies that has clear social commentary; it’s a great form of media to effectively spread awareness and stay in people’s memories longer. It is also always satisfying to see justice served in the end. Justice was served historically as well. Due to the increasing violence of the mafia, the public drove greater legal actions such as the Maxi Trial in the 1980s (which notably, was after this movie was released). I wonder how big of an effect this movie had back then, and how the mafia felt if they watched this movie. I also found it simply regrettable that the mafia transitioned from discreet businesses to brutal violence and crime. When operating the “seemingly” legal businesses (that were acquired through illegal means), the mafia felt like smart people making some economic impact and improvements to those around them. But after the fall out of the leaders, everything fell apart and the mafia became no different than a group of criminals. It’s almost like the organization regressed, which is why I found it very regrettable. The mafia had a lot of potential.
Since I first saw it, I have always ranked The Godfather (1972) as my favorite movie of all time. I truly believe that no other movie is its parallel on the subject of dialogue, cinematography, action and plot. The ease at which the plot advances is seamless, with no unnecessary deviations that bore you. What always comes to my mind is in the opening scene when Michael introduces Tom Hagen as his brother to which Kay asks about Hagen having a different name and Micahel not only explaining Tom’s background but also revealing the idea of consigliere to the viewers. As for Bonasera’s opening monologue, I think it’s perfection. The fade in from black and the long take is amazing. Furthermore, I think that it sets up the purpose of the mafia and how Don Corleone got so powerful. By indebting people, he could call in favors from all sorts of professions when it became useful to him. We see this pay off when Vito calls upon Bonasera to prepare Sonny’s body. In the opening monologue alone, we see who operates at the core of the mafia: the boss, his son, and his consigliere (also his son).
We already discussed in class how his speech is emblematic of the American dream and its failures, but I don’t agree. I think it more accurately depicts a failure in American justice, and is not a criticism of the Dream itself. To expand on that subject, why does Bonasera go to Don Corleone? “For justice”. It was justice that was not given when the judge suspended the sentence, we do not know the reason why, but for the sake of the argument we can assume that it was prejudiced. Bonasera still successfully set himself and his business up of being a mortician, he assimilated and therefore succeeded in the dream. When it came to justice, it failed for whatever reason. I believe that Coppola is making a criticism of the American justice system and in many cases how it fails to deliver on its main purpose which is the reason why these underworld organizations are able to thrive. They deliver the justice that the government cannot. They enforce Hammurabi’s code “an eye for an eye”, the type of vengeance a father will absolutely want for his daughter’s attackers.
I think that you could probably teach a semester-long class on just the Godfather and still not have enough time to talk about it all. I wanted to talk briefly about a moment in Michael’s character development in the first half of the movie (right until the death of Apollonia). When we are introduced to him, Michael is the outsider: he went to college, and then fought in the war and has no part in his dad’s business. But slowly, due to circumstances outside of his control, he adapts to a new role that he must play to save his family. The pivotal moment for Michael is when he is in the study with Tom, Sonny, Tessio and Clemenza shortly after the hospital encounter with McClusky. We see Michael adopt a different demeanor, when he suggests that he kill Sollozzo and McClusky, the viewer sees that Michael means it. His eyes are cold and we see a killer being born. The only one in the room that does not laugh when Michael says this is Tom, because he also recognizes that Michael is not messing around. This is the turning point in Michael’s development and where we see him fully embrace his calling. This scene is further supported from the previous scene where after Mike and Enzo scare off the would-be assassins, Enzo’s hands are shaking while Michael’s are still, indicating that he is calm under pressure (since he served in the war). The final nail in the coffin of the old Michael is when Apollonia dies. Her death marks the death of the innocence of Mike and marks the birth of Don Corleone.
After reading Cosa Nostra and Damiano Damiani’s film How to Kill a Judge, I noticed both explore the connection between the Mafia, politics, and law enforcement in Italy during the 1970s. I also noticed how the connection unveiled the deadly consequences of confronting an institution of organized crime. Cosa Nostra addresses the rise of the Corleonesi, a faction that integrated power through methods of extreme brutality. This led to the systematic elimination of anyone who was a threat, leading to widespread assassinations of judges, journalists, and police. Daimani’s film also addresses these concerns by providing a filmmaker whose film accuses a judge of being tied to the Mafia, which led to the actual judge being murdered. As the film’s protagonist investigates, he realizes that the media and Italian public underestimated the accurate scale of the Mafia’s influence. Both the film and Cosa Nostra highlight that the Mafia was much more than just an organization in the shadows but that it had grown far enough that it had infiltrated politics, the judiciary, and even the mechanisms of the public.
Additionally, I noticed that both Cosa Nostra and the film suggested that justice was often manipulated or suppressed. Both also addressed a shift in the Mafia’s tactics, transitioning from secrecy to open warfare against all who posed a threat. By merging the historical reality in Cosa Nostra with the cinematic fiction in How to Kill a Judge, both works present how the Mafia was much more than a criminal organization. It was a political force controlling life and death in Italy during the 1970s.
Not only did the John Dickie reading, “The Origins of the Second Mafia War 1970–1982,” bring up topics relevant to How to Kill a Judge, but I also thought this reading closely connected to the Godfather, which we watched for class on Monday. Both films and the text work together to demonstrate how violence and power work together in Mafia settings. The text discusses how the Corleonesi rose to power through violence by killing their rivals. Similarly, violence is used to obtain power in both The Godfather and How to Kill a Judge. Specifically, in The Godfather, we follow Michael Corleone’s rise to power. In order to reach the position of Don Corleone, Michael orchestrates the killing of several of the other mafia men and his rivals. Without such violence Micheal would never have become part of the “family business” and become so similar to his father. Additionally, the text captures the Mafia’s power in politics and the corruption that takes place in law enforcement. The Godfather similarly captures this idea with characters like Senator Geary, whose integrity is compromised by Corleone’s blackmail and manipulation.
One aspect of the movie that I thought was particularly interesting was the press’s focus on Mafia related crimes and violence. It resembled our own discussions in class of what was found to be popular and sold the best. For example, in the beginning, there is scene where they are trying to figure out what to write about in their article and somebody suggests that when the movie ended a woman shouted “Shame on you! The judges are good people” to which the man replied “lame.” But then another reporter said two men fought and ended up in the hospital, which he said was worthy of being in the paper. They even went so far as to prefer lies over the truth when at the end the reporter didn’t want to tell the truth about the wife orchestrating the murder because it was a crime of passion and not a mafia crime. He said, “Who cares about a petty marital affair.” These parts of the movie seem to be a commentary on the public’s fascination with the mafia and even more so the media outlets’ obsession with writing stories about it. It seems to say that this obsession fuels the misinformation about the mafia because skewing stories to only talk about certain details that are more interesting to readers causes a skewed perception.
The paper also illustrates this idea when discussing Luciano Leggio, who despite being feared by many and having a “notoriety [that] stretched well beyond Corleone,” had chronic prostate problems and other health issues that resulted in him wearing a brace. There are so many aspects of the mafia and crime in general that are never discussed simply because it isn’t deemed worthy. The problem with this is that it shifts the way we view people, events, and the world.
In discussing the depiction of the mafioso or the gangster in films specifically, we have always brought up the notion of creating a central character who is simultaneously a hopeful projection of some deeply American, capitalistic ideals while also being a grotesque reflection of man’s potential evils. In this depiction of the mafioso, we see how his evil deeds inevitably catch up to him (see Michael Corleone’s fall and the loss of his loved ones or the iconic words of Tom Powers and Little Caesar as they grapple with their mortality upon being severely wounded), and we can even think back to the Warshow essay on the gangster’s predestined failure. I find myself reflecting on this mortal guarantee for the mafioso as we watched How To Kill a Judge specifically in looking at the reactions of Judge Traini’s colleagues following his death. There is a notable anxiety and distrust that every individual in the film seems to exhibit after the killing which ultimately adds a sad comedy to the conclusion of the film when we realize all the subsequent murders and cover ups were done in vain since the real culprit was Signora Traini. I especially thought about the mental games that mafiosi, corrupted politicians, and other “guilty parties” engage in under such circumstances which I believe Dickie sheds some light on in his story about Leonardo Vitale. In the story we see years of mafioso conditioning and the generational baggage of feelings of inadequacy and desperation to be “in the know” in crime organizations piling on to one individual giving birth to some explanations for his apparent mental instability. This was certainly not a symptom of the mafioso’s lifestyle that I had considered before, but when you take a step back and consider how the crime organization builds itself and the degree to which the organizational structure and lines of communication incite distrust, worry, and an obsession with watching one’s own back, the impact becomes striking. Especially when we see a story like Damiani’s in which, as likely occurred/occurs in real life, individuals are killed and framed in scenarios in which they have no business being implicated.
The Dickie chapter provided an insightful historical context for How to Kill a Judge by highlighting the way the mafia was operating in the 1970’s and how power shifted within the mafia. The most striking element of the movie is how embedded the mafia is in every side of the conflict. Rather than representing the world as good guy versus mafia, Solaris, the moral good, has a friend with mafia ties. Also of note, the friend embodies the typical mafia man with his government contract in construction. The mafia is everywhere in the movie, but always hidden from the public view. The death of the judge showed how nebulous the corruption and mafia ties went while showing the resiliency of the corrupt system to protect itself. I found the movie tackled the complexity of the situation very well. Similar to the real mafia of the time, the mafia has power struggles and ranging interests that cause internal disputes. These disagreements are what prompt a consolidation of power as discussed in Dickie. In the movie, ultimately the murder ironically turns out to be an act of passion. This twist provides a final moral problem of the choice between justice and ruining a major political player that’s been corrupted. Overall, How to Kill a Judge represents the mafia in a realistic manner similar to the other Italian films. Unlike the previous films we have discussed, this movie focuses much more on the political influence and complex nature of the mafia, especially at the time of production instead of focusing on the mafia as a business. This film makes me curious about the role of the media in the world of the mafia. How did the mafia either control or suppress the media to stay in power?
A connection that is rather explicitly reflected in the film How to Kill a Judge that is also expressed by John Dickie in The Origins of the Second Mafia War 1970–1982 is the extent to which the “code of conduct”, so to speak, of the Cosa Nostra effectively dissolved into militaristic methods of strategic violence both internally and against the state. This acts as a direct contrast to the previous relations between the mafia and the state that was far more complicated as it involved instances of collaboration as well as opposition. However, now this relationship seems to be predominantly oppositional. I know that, previously, the mafia used political infiltration and collaboration to amplify its influence. With this relationship now spoiled due to the mafia’s indiscriminate violence, I wonder how this altered mafia operations considering the shift in the relationship with the state going from corrupt collaboration to violent submission of state officials? Additionally, how did this influence investigative journalism- a key contributor to the shaping of the public perspective of the mafia- given the Mafia’s newfound brutality? Were they also scared into submission? Lastly, in what ways did the wealth acquired from the commodification of heroin impact the mafia’s ability to challenge the state(i.e how did they leverage the wealth to boost their strength)?
How to Kill a Judge is one of those slow-burn thrillers that gets under your skin without you realizing it. Franco Nero plays a filmmaker who makes a movie about a corrupt judge, only to find out that the same judge has been assassinated in real life, throwing him into this weird, unsettling spiral of paranoia and guilt. There’s something about the way Damiani builds tension that feels almost hypnotic. It’s like you’re watching everything unfold through a haze, but you can still sense the danger creeping in at the edges. The Sicilian setting is beautiful but in this eerie, washed-out way, like the sun is shining too harshly on a place full of secrets. Nero’s performance is quietly intense. His blue eyes do a lot of the heavy lifting, flickering between confidence, doubt, and straight-up fear as he starts to realize he might be in way deeper than he thought. The film lingers on moments just long enough to make you uncomfortable, like when a politician’s forced smile falters for half a second or when someone gives an answer that’s just a little too rehearsed. It’s not just about solving a mystery, but it’s about how the truth itself can be dangerous, twisting into something you can’t control once you start pulling at the wrong threads.
It’s fascinating how The Godfather films blur the line between cinematic fiction and real-life mafia history. Francis Ford Coppola didn’t just craft a compelling narrative—he *proffers* an almost documentary-like depiction of organized crime, drawing heavily from actual events and figures. The *mise en scène* of the film, from the dimly lit rooms where power is brokered to the meticulous recreation of 1940s and 1950s New York, augurs an unsettling sense of authenticity.
Perhaps the most famous example is Marlon Brando’s portrayal of Vito Corleone. His slow, deliberate manner of speech, the gravelly voice, the almost somnolently wise demeanor—these were not just artistic choices but direct imitations of real mafia bosses like Carlo Gambino. The way he rarely raises his voice, the way he gestures with quiet authority rather than outward aggression—these *leitmotifs* of power mirror the inscrutable figures of the real Cosa Nostra, men who, despite their criminal nature, commanded the *approbation* of their communities.
Then there are the murders—some lifted almost verbatim from reality. The infamous restaurant assassination of Virgil “The Turk” Sollozzo recalls the real-life hit on Joe Masseria in 1931, where Charles “Lucky” Luciano allegedly excused himself to the bathroom before the shooting began. Similarly, the bloody tollbooth execution of Sonny Corleone is an eerie echo of the 1957 assassination of Albert Anastasia, whose brutal slaying was captured in images just as haunting as those Coppola staged for the film.
What’s truly remarkable is how *The Godfather* doesn’t just imitate history but has, in turn, shaped it. Mobsters reportedly altered their speech and mannerisms a la Brando, becoming *puppets of something that goes beyond them*—a testament to the film’s haunting, almost *phantasmagorical* power over reality.
I didn’t like the film Goodfellas. To me, it struck me as an overdone caricature of the mafia, with excessive violence, disastrous relationships, and irresponsibility. At some point, the sexual affairs of Henry and the foolish violence of Tommy became too much. I’m not sure if I felt so upset by this portrayal because of our exposure to mafia media through this class, or if this would be my reaction to the film before this semester, but either way, I’m surprised with how highly rated the film is.
Nevertheless, while the film is overdone, the plot themes feel relevant to modern-day drug trade and gang violence, and each step of Henry’s journey feels realistically complex. On the issue of the drug trade, this was a fascinating continuation of Godfather I. In Godfather I, the mafioso chose not to engage in selling drugs because of how dangerous and risky the work can be. In Goodfellas, however, Henry embraced the drug trade while in prison. The fears in Godfather I were realized in Goodfellas when the drug trade led Henry down a disastrous path and ultimately to his arrest and “exile.” Goodfellas also demonstrated an important theme of relationships in criminal business. At the start of the film, everyone in Paulie’s mafia is family. Henry sought Paulie as an escape from his violent father and found a community. In the portrayal of young Henry, Pauli’s gang was his new family. Fast forward several decades and his relationships with them are ruined, with an ultimate betrayal when Henry sold them out in court. This underscored the superficial nature of Henry’s relationships with the mafia. Although they felt like family and spent all their time together, it was still a business. And when it came down to it, Henry sold out his “adopted family,” to save himself. Henry was addicted to the rush of the mafioso and despite the risks of staying, he tried to hold onto it for as long as he could. The film was hard to watch because of the excessive violence and portrayals, but certainly offers important insights into the dynamics of a criminal empire.
Feb 24th: “The Power of Hyphen-Nationalism” discusses Martin Scorsese’s public transition from identifying strongly as Italian American to a broader White-Ethnic American identity. This shift in identification is also seen in Scorsese’s main character, Henry. In past Hollywood movies, mafia members would only be portrayed as Italian immigrants. However, Henry is only Italian through his mother. Rather than being from Sicily or fully ethnically Sicilian, Henry is only half Sicilian. Not only is Henry’s ethnicity story different than most mafia movies at the time, Henry hardly mentions or interacts with his family and even wears and cosplays as jewish while also being catholic. As we have seen throughout the classic mafia movies thus far in class, the mafia members are all fully Sicilian and have a strong family connection as well as a religious connection. However, this movie appears to break all of these mafia norms. The Sicilian/Italian heritage is no longer the primary focus of the film. The reading gives light into why Scorsese broke the mafia norms of the time. The shift is connected to broader societal changes where ethnic groups were increasingly pressured to assimilate into a larger white identity. As ethnic groups, like Italian Americans, became more established, the Italian American community wanted to distance themselves from the bad persona of Hollywood mafia members to a more common White-Ethnic identity. Finally, there may also be a connection to a larger movie audience.
Lopes’s “Hyphen-Nationalism” publication on Scorsese was certainly a fascinating read. It provided me with some new perspectives on the influence of directors’ personal lives on their filmmaking, but I also found myself disagreeing with some of his ideas. Lopes argues that Goodfellas portrays “[t]he dark side of the American Dream”, going on to say that some of Scorsese’s other films in the 90s and later depict the road to success in America as always riddled with violence, corruption, and sociopathy (569). I certainly see where he is coming from with this statement, but I also believe that movies like Goodfellas, and others we have studied in class (like the Godfather series, etc.), attempt to display how the obsession with success often leads to violence, but not necessarily the idea itself.
Perhaps this is naivete (i.e., not wanting to believe that every path to achieving the American Dream is entrenched in brutality), but to me, Goodfellas was more of a comment on the state of Italian-American society and organized crime in New York at the time, and it seemed that Scorsese used the film as a platform to paint a picture of how his own youth was influenced by the same criminal forces. Lopes also mentions this early in the essay when quoting Richard Schickel by saying the Mafia was “providing much of the neighborhood’s social organization and control” in Scorsese’s childhood town.
Of course, I very much enjoyed Goodfellas as a film since I am a big Scorsese fan, but having more perspective about Scorses’s background allowed me to see it differently this time, especially with the ending where Henry returns to the life of an average “schnook”; it was the best option for his family (and therefore fulfilling), but perhaps not as personally exciting.
I appreciate Scorsese’s commitment to portraying a variety of American experiences through his gangster films rather than just the stereotypical Italian-American experience. In the article, Lopes discusses how Scorsese’s childhood impacted the way he created movies. Through an interview in the midst of his career, Scorsese noted how he attempted to present a theme of a multi-ethnic Little Italy, replacing the Italian American view of Little Italy in his movies. I noticed this in the movie through Henry’s first interactions with Karen. Firstly, Henry was forced to go on a double date given Karen’s friend is prejudiced against Italians (which Tommy explicitly stated). Additionally, when Henry meets Karen’s mom for the first time, Karen covers his cross necklace. However, after they got married I noticed how Henry wears his cross necklace along with the Star of David, which in a sense alludes to Scorsese’s multicultural vision of Little Italy. Another time the movie intentionally expressed the multi-ethnic version of Little Italy was when Tommy was being “made,” and was officially awarded an “in” as a mafia man. During this scene, the movie discusses how Jimmy and Henry will never be able to be “made” given they aren’t 100% Italian. This speaks to Lopes’ claim that white-ethnics kept an identification with their ethnic-backgrounds, but did so in a broader European-American way. In this example, Henry is viewed as an Italian-American but is also still connected to his Irish or multi-European roots which cause him to not be “made.” In addition, Lopes discusses how movie critics applauded Scorsese for his ability to connect his autobiography and social history to create his own movie brand, which are reflected in all of his iconic movies, such as the iconic Wolf of Wall Street.
Goodfellas captivated me through the very first scene. I loved how we talked about in the prior class how mafia men in real life aspired to act like those in movies and, in Goodfellas, we saw Henry idolizing gang members from a very young age, wanting to be like them and eventually joining their crew to take on their ways. Also discussed in prior classes was mafia movies’ representation of the American Dream, and this movie not only showed the downfall of our protagonist (I loved how Henry’s face got paler as his mental health plummeted), yet uniquely showed the downfall of the entire main mafia group which was a surprise – the overambition of their entire system failed and this twist was wild. Scorsese did an amazing job at immersing his audience within the setting and atmosphere of the film and that is in great part because “all his films somehow reflected his youth as an Italian American”, drawing from his real life. The reading showed how Scorsese’s identity shaped his films. Themes of the power of identity were very present throughout Goodfellas; Tommy was the only one who could “get made” as he was purely Italian. Yet, unfortunately for Jimmy and Henry (with “outsider status in the Italian American-dominated world”) whose only hope at getting closer was through him, Tommy was a loose cannon and had to be killed for his impulsive actions. Ethnicity was significant and multi-faceted among the white community themselves as, for example, Karen’s mother scorns her for not marrying a Jew. The reading examines whiteness in film and I found it very telling that there was one African American in Goodfellas – and he got killed off for betraying the majority-white community. This made me wonder if there were any mafia films with a black protagonist?
Goodfellas is a very different perspective on the mafia and organized crime than the Godfather trilogy as instead of showing the perspective of the Don and his close associates it focuses on the perspective from the lowest wrung of a mafia family – the associates. While Paulie (Paul Sorvino) is a made man, he just runs a crew as a capo regime. Jimmy (DeNiro and real-life Jimmy Burke) and Henry (Liotta) are Irish and will never be made men; and Tommy (Pesci and real-life Tommy Desimone) is Italian but not a “made man.” The lives they live are very less secure than the Corleones or even of Paulie. They work on the tactics and execution (literally in some cases) of the family’s business. They get some benefits of the mob life through money and access only when it benefits the family. Henry had an easy go of it in prison because Paulie was there with him. But also, when Henry goes to jail, his wife and kids aren’t taken care of and he leaves prison broke and arrives at a small studio apartment instead of the home he previously had. This clear divide was very clearly seen again when Billy Batts, a made man, insults Tommy at the bar. Tommy is supposed to take the insults and not react. But Tommy killed Batts which is a mortal sin in the mafia as a made man can’t be killed, especially by someone who is not made, without the consent of the boss.
There is a business myth around the “third generation” that discusses the third generation of owners or of a family run business eventually see the business fail. It’s based on the first generation generally being poor and having to scrap and fight to build something lasting, the second generation growing up and seeing those struggles but ultimately obtaining success, and the third generation having grown up with that success and not having had to struggle and sacrifice and work hard eventually ruining the business. That could be seen along with the hypotheses of the Hyphen-Nationalism article in the Goodfellas. Henry and Tommy, not so much Jimmy who appears to be a throw-back, don’t know how to handle their success. They’ve become too “American” and like to show off their success, they’re too independent and don’t want to follow the rules: Henry for getting into the drug business after being told explicitly not to by Paul; and Tommy for killing a made man. This is also seen with the crew from the Lufthansa heist: they get a new a car or a fancy mink coat, or keep bothering Jimmy for the money now, all leading to Jimmy whacking them to keep their mouth’s shut. Henry then turns state’s evidence, goes into witness protection, and the crew from Paulie on down end up back in jail.
Was Scorsese foretelling the decline in the Mafia based on Lope’s Hyphen-Nationalism and the “third generation” myth? There was a recent article stating that even in Sicily, the Mafia is having problems finding new recruits. The backwardness and poverty and lack of equality for certain ethnic groups (Sicilians vs mainland Italians) and immigrants (Italians, Jews, Irish – now considered “white”) doesn’t exist as it once did, robbing the mafia of disaffected youth who only see one way up in a society previously closed off to them.
After reading the article and watching the film, it’s very interesting to see how the concept of Scorsese’s life playing a role in the way he makes film, as mentioned in the article, can be seen in the film Goodfellas. The article discusses Martin Scorsese’s public transition from strongly identifying as an Italian American to being more comfortable with a broader White-Ethnic American identity. This transition is evident in the film we watched, Goodfellas, because his main character, where in other mafia movies we’ve watched for this class have been completely Italian, Henry is only half Italian through his mother’s side. Much differently from the other movies we’ve watched where the characters seem to identify a lot with their family and be very family centered characters, Henry rarely mentions or interacts with his family. A lot of the mafia stereotypes that we’ve come to familiarize ourselves with is that these individuals are Italian men who care deeply about their familial connections and are very much family men. But, with Henry, and Goodfellas, these stereotypes seem to be challenged. Goodfellas allowed individuals to look deeply into the state of Italian-American society and how organized crime was run. Scorsese has some personal connections with this as his own youth was also influenced by these criminal forces that he mentions in the movie. All in all, I really enjoyed the movie because, after reading the article, it allowed me to see how personal things that have happened in the life of Martin Scorsese, he was able to interpret the mafia and give it his own personal spin.
Martin Scorsese’s *Goodfellas* (1990) employs an unconventional use of direct narration and fourth-wall-breaking that disrupts classical cinematic storytelling. Henry Hill’s (Ray Liotta) voiceover is already a striking narrative device, but in the film’s final moments, he does something unexpected—he steps out of the film’s diegetic world and speaks directly to the audience. This moment, where Hill literally acknowledges the spectator, breaks the immersion, shattering the illusion of the film’s gritty realism. It’s almost as if Scorsese reminds us that this is a story—a mythologized version of crime, power, and consequence, framed through the lens of nostalgia and regret.
This technique, while jarring, is deeply tied to Scorsese’s broader artistic and personal narrative. As an Italian-American filmmaker, Scorsese’s works often explore themes of identity, assimilation, and the construction of ethnic narratives in American cinema. *Goodfellas* not only dramatizes the rise and fall of an outsider in American society, but it also reflects Scorsese’s own negotiation of his Italian-American identity within the film industry. The film’s self-awareness—through narration and fourth-wall breaks—mirrors the way Scorsese’s public biography has been shaped by critics, journalists, and scholars who analyze his work through the lens of race, ethnicity, and national identity.
Furthermore, this moment in *Goodfellas* speaks to the ideological shift explored in Scorsese’s public story—from the “unmeltable” Italian-American of the 1960s Ethnic Revival to the White-Ethnic American of end-of-the-century Hyphen-Nationalism. By breaking cinematic convention, Scorsese indirectly calls attention to the way narratives—whether in film or in cultural identity—are constructed, revised, and ultimately performed for an audience.
The film Goodfellas was very interesting and engaging. I found it to be a long film which focused on Henry Hill’s life. In combination with the readings, it felt as if the film’s development directly connected to Martin Scorsese’s overarching development of ethnic heritage and assimilation shown throughout his films. Something I felt was very interesting compared to the last few films we have watched is this one was based on a true story. Comparatively, other films we have watched actually did the opposite – tried to persuade the audience there was no connection between the film and real life. This highlights societal development over time and government control and censorship over the media. One aspect of the film that stood out to me at the beginning was when Henry’s narrative voice stated he wanted to be a gangster because “Gangsters were better than the President”. I felt like this was an interesting way to depict the stereotype of a gangster that we have also seen through other films this semester. I also felt as though the movie showed a progression of the life of an immigrant seeking the American Dream. Overall, I thought this was a great movie and I found it tied together a lot of interesting aspects from the other films we have been watching.
I found the Lopes article on “The power of Hyphen-Nationalism” to be an interesting take on Scorsese’s movies because of the director’s emphasis on his own Italian-American background. Unlike Coppola, who regretted how The Godfather films played into negative views of Italian Americans, Scorsese seems to capitalize on these tropes in both his films and personal life. In the Lopes article, Scorsese is quoted about how the only two paths for Italian American boys were the church or the mafia, but the author notes that many, if not most, Italian Americans pursued legitimate careers. To me, it seems that by sensationalizing mafia influence in his art and interviews, Scorsese valued profiting off of his community more than uplifting it.
I thought Goodfellas, itself, had a comedic element that was emphasized by the almost “mockumentary” style of the filming. Between the voiceover, the mobsters’ constant banter (“Funny how?”) and off-the-handle violence, and the fourth wall break during the court scene, the irony of the film was so overstated that, for me, it passed social commentary and approached comedy. The ending scene, especially, was ironic to me because Henry seems to achieve the American dream–the white picket fence and quiet suburban life with his family–but is unfulfilled because he misses the thrill of the mafia. This is a sharp divergence from the trope we have seen of the mafia man thus far: The mafioso is never able to leave the mafia life except through death, no matter how much he wants to reform. It seems odd to me that, as an Italian-American himself, Scorsese would choose to portray Henry in this way because, in my opinion, it suggests that Henry (representative of Italian Americans) is fundamentally drawn to a life of crime.
I thought the narration was a very interestice piece in the Goodfellas movie. The fact that Henry Hill was for the most part the one who was narrating the movie played a big role in how I and many other audience members experienced this film. The narration featured many breaks of the fourth wall and I believe that served to connect with the audience and make us feel that we are complicit in his actions. Right from the beginning of the film I wanted to root for Henry because of this. We were able to see the world through his eyes and even when it became clear throughout the movie that he was not the greatest guy in the world, I still found myself rooting for him. This effect was combined with what we were seeing on the screen during the unbroken scene in the beginning of the movie where we got to meet a lot of his friends at a restaurant. The camera was positioned in such a way where it seemed like we were Henry in first person. We got the opportunity to get introduced to his mobsters and it almost felt as if we were being inducted into the mob. Included in this was Henry narrating and describing all of his friends one at a time as we went around the restaurant. Additionally, It was intruiging to me how his wife Karen narrated some of the movie. This was quite a departure from most mafia films that we have seen because the women typically haven’t had a large role in the films. They were mostly there to complement the main character but not have a story of their own. This gave us a new insight on how it felt to be a part of a mafia family from someone who is not directly involved in the mafia.
In my opinion, Goodfellas is just fantastic. It’s not only a hallmark film of late twentieth-century Italian (and I suppose Irish) America, but the cinematography itself is art. What stuck out to me from watching the film and reading about it was Scorsese’s use of long takes, music, and narration that give a tremendously immersed perspective, as if the audience member is in the film itself standing right behind Henry as he walks about. I especially took note of this closer to the beginning of the film when Henry walks the audience through the bar and introduces his confidants- whether it be “Jimmy-two-times” or “Frankie Carbone”- in this scene I feel like I was plopped into a somewhat gaudy Italian-American bar and restaurant. I love it. I get the same sensation (only better) when Henry walks Karen through the back end of the Italian restaurant and tips the waiter crisp 100-dollar bills each. The song “Then He Kissed Me” by the Crystals brings the audience right into the almost whimsical state of mind that Karen must have felt when Henry just made things happen, whether in a righteous fashion or not.
That sense of authenticity isn’t just great filmmaking, it’s personal. Scorsese grew up immersed in this world. Little Italy was his classroom for understanding human behavior, struggles, and the art of storytelling. He spent his life observing these sorts of characters, learning unspoken rules, and witnessing how charm and brutality could coexist. That’s why Goodfella’s feels so genuine, not just because of the cinematography. Scorsese draws from memory and taps into his own life to invoke a sense of truth that can’t just be written from thin air, as suggested in the reading.
Paul Lopes suggests that the film The GoodFellas, on the timeline of which Italian-Americans transition between being a marginalized group to being very integrated into mainstream American society, sits right at the pivot point and this fact is definitely reflected in the film. This is made evident via Henry’s pursuit of the American Dream as well as the mixing between the Irish, the Jewish and the Italian people under the mafia. The Goodfellas, despite following the same parabolic arc of rising to some form of success in the world of crime and ultimately falling apart by the end, still feels different than the other mafia films that we’ve watched especially because the protagonist does not die in some grand act of violence. However, the final scene of the film appeared to me like a metaphorical death for Henry because he had lost virtually everything in his life that made him feel alive. There’s a sort of irony here considering that, of the group he started with, he arguably ended up with what was closest to a “Happyierever after” so to speak. I wonder what this sort of ironic setup and play on the final ultimate collapse of a mafia member
Reading the Lopes article on the emergence of Hyphen-Nationalism following the creation of a White-Ethnic America was very interesting and brings up what I would consider a fairly common phenomenon across races and ethnic groups in United States history. I will say that Lopes seems to make some overarching generalizations about Martin Scorsese’s Italian-American identity and how he has used this identity to navigate the public eye, but the evidence he provides would certainly seem to point to some interesting changes in how immigrants and marginalized groups see their status change across times and places. In the article, we read that, at least in interviews, it would seem Scorsese changes his tune about exchanges in the Lower East Side between various groups. In the early days of his career, he talks about friends and relatives having disputes with other kids, but later on, he talks about the beauty of multiculturalism in his neighborhood and how it was an inspiration for some of his works. I think this motif amongst individuals who work themselves into status positions not often (generally speaking) assumed by members of their identity groups is quite ordinary and can easily be seen in other individuals. As expressed in the article, white privilege, white nationalism, and white supremacy will always seek out ways to defend themselves, and this can result in the creation of certain narratives that, consciously or not, individuals in status positions begin to push. I’m reminded of Jean Louise’s struggles to trivialize racial tensions in rural Alabama while working and making friends in New York in author Harper Lee’s Go Set a Watchman and how, to downplay one’s own privilege and successes in direct comparison with another less privileged group, there can be an inclination to sugarcoat the severity of such discrepancies. Of course, I can’t say whether or not this is what happened in Scorsese’s case as it is always a struggle to make interviews and public engagements appealing as someone who lives predominantly in the public eye, but it is interesting to think about particularly in how this manifests in his films. Looking to Goodfellas, we see similar tensions and the minimization of any tensions amongst Italian, Jewish, and Irish Americans in many different scenes. The most profound instance would be when the audience is clued into the fact that neither Henry nor Jimmy can be “made” in the crime organization because they are not fully Italian, but, due to their connections with Tommy who is fully Italian and is set to become a “made man”, they both can overlook this. We see further examples of tension and distinction during Jimmy’s intro sequence at the beginning of the film when someone in the background at his poker table says, “The Irishman is here to take all you [Italians’] money,” perhaps insinuating some stereotypes about Irish Americans as to how the conduct themselves regarding money or gambling or even just to highlight historical discomforts between the two groups. Similarly, we see Billy Batts draw attention to Jimmy and Henry’s Irish-ness while also calling them hoodlums which is particularly notable since this is our first impression of the character, and we see he has recently arrived back from prison meaning one of the first things he chooses to bring up in conversation with the two is to highlight their otherness due to their Irish identities.
One of the first parts of the article that stood out to me was the line about how nearly no one “understood as well as Scorsese what neighborhood loyalties mean to ethnic groups”. Goodfellas begins with Henry finding the family and support he lacked at home among Paulie and his guys. He narrates that Paulie offered protection to all of his guys – protection they could not find from the cops. Occasionally, even, protection from the cops. This group of Italians that grows and changes throughout the film is bonded partially by their ability to protect each other and their group loyalty.
The article also mentioned the presence of Irish Americans “and other white ethnic main characters” in Scorsese’s films. Additionally, it explains that the films were not set in Irish American or other white-ethnic communities. Instead, their presence within the “Italian-American dominated worlds” of Scorsese’s films highlighted their “outsider status”. This was an important topic later in the film when Henry explains that he and Jimmy could never be “made men” as they both had “Irish blood”. To me, this part of the film connected to both of these article topics. It highlighted the disconnect that having a different ethnicity, even if only partially, created from the central group. However, it also emphasized how their neighborhood’s loyalty transcended it. Just as the tradition of “made men” had not been broken, neither had the tradition of brotherhood.
The Paul Lopes essay highlights how Martin Scorsese’s public story shifted from the ’60s to the present, expressing different narratives ranging from authentic expressions and exotic stereotypes to Hollywood cliches of Italian America; these cliches emphasize the White ethnic struggle towards the American Dream. Unlike Coppola, Scorsese’s films explicitly highlight his own Italian American Identity. Interestingly, however, the 1990 film Goodfellas is centered around an Irish-Italian-American mafia associate who becomes involved in this organized crime system from a young age to escape his home life. Based on true events, the film and the role of the protagonist exemplify what Lopes describes as Scorsese’s shift from self-identity to a broader embrace of white ethnic identity in America. The outsider perspective of the shift is perfectly expressed when Henry states why Jimmy and himself would never be made men, unlike Tommy. While they took part in the same illicit activities and played essential roles, the fact that they were not of full Sicilian descent deprived them of the prestige, protection, and status of full membership in the mafia.
I also wanted to note the stylistic film techniques employed by Scorsese. The director uses several perfectly choreographed long takes that create the same “time as an experience” aspect, as discussed in Salvatore Giuliano. I found the Copacabana scene, for example, to be most impressive as the almost three-minute scene takes the audience from the outside, through the kitchen, and into the club, ending with Karen and Henry sitting at the front of the show surrounded by participants in the same system of organized crime; what strikes me is how the scene was so well choreographed, allowing the audience to be fully immersed in Henry’s world.
Of the films we’ve seen thus far, I think The Untouchables is the first to successfully make the viewer identify with the cops and against the mafia. I found that the movie’s score was one of the tools that helped create this effect. From early on in the film, Morricone’s score during scenes depicting the four “Untouchables” going out and fighting organized crime (such as their first alcohol raid as a team) creates a triumphant, heroic feel, emphasizing how the audience should view the work that these men are doing in a positive light. This contrasts the music that plays when the mobsters (particularly Nitti) are at work. During these scenes, the music is much darker and more ominous. Outside of the score, which contributes to our implicit understanding that the Untouchables are the “good guys” of this film, there are several other key signals to the audience that highlight Ness’s noble and honorable character which we are supposed to side with. One scene that had this effect for me was after Ness’s first kill of the film. After being forced to kill one of the criminals during the Western-style Canadian raid scene, Ness feels the weight of having been obligated to kill someone, asking “What is this, a game?” This reaction associates Ness with the average person who is not desensitized to killing (unlike the mobsters depicted in the film). Another element that contributed to our understanding of Ness’s character was his relationship with his wife and with his daughter, which showed the audience his family values. The last I’ll mention is the very obvious signal of his noble character in the train station stroller scene. Despite the gravity of this moment for the entire case, Ness feels obligated to abandon his post to help a woman bring her stroller up the staircase.
While watching the film, certain moments made me question whether there was any intention by De Palma for Ness’s character to be a sort of commentary against capitalism. After Malone’s death, Ness comments on how while all of this is happening, his wife is looking at color swatches for their kitchen, stating “Some part of the world still cares what color the kitchen is.” While watching this scene, I immediately thought this was a reference to the lavish lifestyles of mob bosses like Capone, who get to live luxuriously while their subordinates kill innocent people. Upon reflecting further, I wonder if this might also be a broader statement on the pitfalls of capitalism, with the mafia serving as a vehicle for the worst parts of capitalism. Throughout the film, the lavishness of Capone’s lifestyle is illustrated, which contrasts with the depiction of Ness, the story’s hero, as an ordinary guy. Furthermore, as we’ve seen before, Capone refers to his work as “business,” even claiming that his men don’t carry out violent crimes because it would be “bad business”. These elements lead me to question whether the film is attempting at all to convey this sentiment that capitalism is a system that can be easily taken advantage of by the wrong people. Moreover, it might be criticizing the fact that capitalism is a system under which violence can be industrialized and can turn certain people into prosperous businessmen.
Brian De Palma’s The Untouchables (1987) is set in Prohibition-era Chicago, following Eliot Ness and his team as they attempt to take down Al Capone’s illegal liquor empire. Stylistically, the film draws heavily from classic Hollywood gangster films, particularly its use of low angle and long shots. Pelan’s article highlights the Union Station shootout, a scene that encapsulates the Hollywood gangster aesthetic despite not being detailed in the original script. Due to budget constraints, De Palma abandoned spectacle in favor of pure visual storytelling. The architectural setting and public locale reflect classic gangster films, where innocent bystanders witness the intensity of violence—reminiscent of The Godfather’s restaurant assassination and The Public Enemy’s rainy street shootout.
De Palma builds suspense through slow camera movement, making the audience anticipate the explosion of violence. Low-angle shots of the gangsters heighten their menace, much like in Scarface with Tony Montana. Additionally, the minimal dialogue intensifies the tension, making the first gunshot feel abrupt and shocking. The sequence unfolds as a slow-burn set piece, crafting a visually complex and atmospheric landscape that stays true to classic mafia cinematography.
The Seduction of Mimi was definitely an interesting watch, but some parts were pretty tough to sit through, especially with how gender dynamics played out. The Italian soundtrack made it a little hard to follow, and even though I had the subtitles on, I found myself focusing more on the visuals and just trying to piece everything together through what was happening on screen.
Mimi as a character really stood out—he had such a bold and outgoing personality, especially for the time. But at the same time, his actions made it clear how deeply ingrained traditional masculinity was back then. Some scenes felt straight-up misogynistic, and it was hard not to notice how much sex in the film was catered toward male desire. It wasn’t just about relationships—it was about power, control, and ego. The way Mimi reacted to his wife’s affair compared to his own cheating just screamed double standards. He could justify everything he did, but the second she stepped outside the box, it was like a personal attack on his masculinity.
Even though the film had its comedic and satirical moments, there was an underlying discomfort in how gender roles played out. The movie definitely seemed to be commenting on the hypocrisy of men like Mimi, ones who see themselves as progressive but still fall into the same toxic patterns. The way women were treated, both by the characters and just in the framing of certain scenes, really highlighted how different expectations were for men and women back then. Some of it was frustrating to watch, but at the same time, it made a point about the kind of societal norms that still linger today.
The Untouchables was interesting to watch as the story followed the police perspective through the character Elliot Ness. Unlike Scarface which follows Tony Camonte–alluding to Al Capone–The Untouchables features Al Capone directly and already established. The intermediate scenes of Al Capone always show him particularly close up and in a bright and gaudy setting, emphasizing his status and power. These scenes, woven into the rest of the film, are starkly contrasted by Ness and his team, who are more hands-on and working on the ground. In this sense they are portrayed as normal working-class people. There is a strong sense of duality with Ness’s character as he is in one moment praying with his daughter and in the next in a shooting match with multiple adversaries. The scene at the train station displays this duality all at once as it portrays the anxiety around whether to shoot or help the mother and her baby. The scene unfolds giving Ness almost superhuman abilities as he chases the baby carriage and shoots his opponents simultaneously and ultimately ends up entirely unscathed. In addition to saving babies, Ness is presented as a hero during the raid at the border, riding in on horseback in a way that alludes to an old western film. In balancing Ness’s humble family-man side and fearless rifleman side, the film demonstrates the complexity of the type of person it takes to put away a Mafia boss.
I think the intrinsic connection between moral decay and the “American Dream” is particularly striking this week with Goodfellas and The Untouchables. In Goodfellas, we witness the rise and fall of Henry Hill–a man who glorified this idea of gangster. In the Copacabana nightclub scene, Henry is entranced with the grandeur, luxury, and worldly pleasures that this lifestyle brings. However, this is not all sunshine and rainbows. Soon after, his friend and associate, Tommy Devito, is murdered, and Henry eventually becomes addicted to cocaine and is arrested in the infamous May 11, 1980 sequence. Henry’s only path to a version of “freedom” is to betray Paulie and Jimmy–or the incarnates of the lifestyle he once violently sought to achieve. A once earnest and devoted man was turned into a shell of a human through prolific drug use and violence. What worth is success if you not only don’t have people to share it with, but also are unable to look yourself in the mirror and recognize what you see? Moreover, in The Untouchables, we encounter Ness, an ambitious young agent hell-bent on stopping Al Capone. Ness learns that everyone on the Chicago police force is on the Capone payroll, and through forming his team, he begins to put a dent in the Capone enterprise. However, along the way, Malone, a veteran cop and member of the team, was killed by Frank Nitti, one of Capone’s enforcers. This strikes a chord within Ness. A once pure agent is now driven by an irreconcilable loss. In the final courtroom scene, Ness learns that Capone has bribed the jury (and eventually gets a new jury) and throws Nitti off a building. His ultimate goal was achieved (Capone behind bars), but something was lost along the way. His devotion turned into rage, and like Capone in the baseball bat scene, Ness turned to gruesome methods to achieve his goal. It seems that in the whole Mafia enterprise–whether you’re pro or against–there is indeed some form of moral decay that comes along the way. Whether it is causation or correlation, I am not entirely sure. But it certainly speaks volumes that even people who seek to disband the Mafia are forced to turn to corrupt methods. The real question is–is it worth it? To Ness, it was. To others, I’ll leave that up to the class.
I loved this movie- might even top Il Mafioso. Ironically, the film starts with a wholesome feeling of justice, comradery, and passion between Ness and his ad hoc crew. Obviously, this is so juxtaposed by the violence of the mafia and the intensity of Al Capone. “Heightened melodrama”, as described in “Gang Wars, The Prohibition Menace” is the perfect way to describe this film. The characters are exaggerated to serve a point, or even a cliche. Eliot Ness is basically Captain America, superhero for the law, with his wise, mentor-like figure to guide his journey as an outsider bringing justice to Chicago. Along with a young prodigy and a nerdy accountant, this group is the original Avengers or law enforcement Breakfast Club- a random group that makes perfect sense.
I was really drawn to the music of this film as it heightened the feelings of melodrama. During their first bust, the music was so uplifting, it sounded like I was at Disneyland. The following scene of Al Capone circling the table with a bat had the opposite effect, where the music was sinister and I was waiting for the ball to drop (contrasting his casual tone).
I also thought that the stereotypes of Italian Americans were very different in this film than we have previously seen of mafia movies. Usually, they, especially the older films, exaggerate the stereotypes of this demographic and correlate Italian Americans exclusively to crime. Typically they are impoverished or low on the social ladder until they gain some new money through crime. Of course, we see typical, older Italian looking men with Al Capone and the usual stereotypes of Italian Mafia violence, but we also have George Stone, an Italian American, against the mafia working with the police. While he certainly faces initial prejudice, he is a crucial member in fighting with Ness against Capone.
Given our discussion last class, I found the idea of paying homage to other films through certain scenes to be very interesting. For example, in our last class, we discussed how the scene where the father beats Henry is similar to the scene and story of The Public Enemy. We also discussed how the conversation of “gangsters being better than presidents” resembles the conversation that took place in the Godfather between Micheal and Kay. I thought it was interesting to watch the moments in the Untouchables that Pelan described as paying homage to other films. For example, the scene where the baby carriage falls down the stairs at the Union Station during a shooting is an ode to Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin. It was interesting to find out that this scene was so famous after watching the film because I was fascinated by how they were able to film such a scene without the baby-carriage tipping over. Also, after our discussion of various cinematic techniques on Monday, this scene even further stood out for its use of different camera angles, background music, and slow-motion filming. At the start of the scene, there is a long moment where we are just watching the woman and her baby struggle to get up the stairs and the camera is directly angled downwards from a birds-eye point of view. There are also several close-ups in the scene that zoom into a specific character’s face, creating the effect of the viewer really being in the scene. Thirdly, this scene uses various speeds of motion to capture the drama that is occurring on the screen.
I found “The Untouchables” to be a really compelling portrayal of Prohibition-era organized crime. The film dramatizes Treasury agent Eliot Ness’s struggle against Al Capone with a sort of flair that I haven’t noticed in the other films we’ve watched, while also touching on justice, corruption, and moral compromise.
As Tim Pelan notes in his analysis “Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace,” De Palma’s vision of 1930s Chicago presents a city where the line between law and crime has blurred almost beyond recognition. Portrayed by Robert De Niro, Capone operates in plain sight, holding power over both the criminal underworld as well as the legitimate civic institutions meant to oppose him.Against this backdrop of systemic corruption, Kevin Costner’s Ness begins as an idealist whose moral certainty is tested repeatedly throughout the narrative. The formation of his “Untouchables” team (a street-smart beat cop in Malone, accountant Oscar Wallace, and rookie sharpshooter Stone) represents a tactical alliance of different approaches to justice. De Palma’s directorial choices are also worth mentioning, as his sweeping camera movements and dramatic compositions honor yet reinvent typical choices in gangster films. For instance, the Union Station steps sequence creates tension and emotional impact that transcend typical scenes in this genre of movie.
Ultimately, I feel like “The Untouchables” succeeds because it balances historical drama with fiction. It presents the battle against organized crime not just as a matter of law enforcement but as a moral battle where, as Malone reminds Ness, you must be willing to “do what’s necessary” while still holding onto core principles of justice—a theme that resonates well beyond its historical setting.
The movie transforms the battle between law and crime into something larger than history. While based on real events, it leans into myth-making, presenting a world where justice is a matter of willpower rather than procedure. The essay explores how it borrows from the Western, turning Prohibition-era Chicago into a new frontier where an outsider has to take on an entrenched force of corruption. This shift from realism to legend makes the movie feel more like a morality tale than a historical account.
At its core, the movie is about transformation. The protagonist starts as a by-the-book idealist but quickly learns that playing fair won’t be enough to take down the antagonist. His mentor, a streetwise veteran, teaches him that justice sometimes requires bending the rules. The essay focuses on how this shift mirrors classic American heroism, where the struggle is not just about defeating the enemy but deciding how far one is willing to go. The most famous action sequences reinforce this theme, turning routine confrontations into grand set pieces that elevate the story beyond its historical roots.
The essay makes the case that the movie is less about crime and more about how justice is achieved when the system is broken. The stylized violence and mythic framing serve a larger purpose, showing that heroism often comes at a cost. Rather than focusing on historical accuracy, the movie presents a version of justice that is cinematic, dramatic, and ultimately shaped by those willing to act.
I thought The Untouchables presented an interesting and unique vision of law enforcement’s battle against organized crime. Unlike Scarface or The Public Enemy where there is a somewhat morally ambiguous portrayal of gangsters which often depicted gangsters as tragic figures whose ambition led to inevitable downfall, The Untouchables draws a clear moral divide between Eliot Ness’s crusading federal agents and Al Capone’s ruthless empire. This kind of morality reminds me of the earlier mafia narratives we’ve seen where Italian immigrants are depicted as either noble and law abiding citizens or dangerous criminals. However, I thought this film updates this kind of dynamic, reinforcing the idea that crime must be met with force, even if it requires bending the law sometimes. In The Untouchables, Ness initially adheres to very strict legality, but as Malon teaches him, he begins to realize victory requires breaking the rules just as much as enforcing them. One of the elements that jumped out the most to me in this film is its type of violence. Capone is larger than life and this can be seen easily in his baseball-bat execution scene recalling the brutal, theatrical nature of gangster killings in The Godfather series. The iconic Union Station shootout, with its slow-motion carnage reinforced the idea of Ness’s team as warriors in a cinematic battle of good versus evil. Ultimately, The Untouchables reaffirms the American ideal that justice will always prevail, though only through relentless effort. Its emphasis on personal sacrifice and moral compromise aligns with many other pieces we’ve seen before.
When I think of Scorsese’s Goodfellas, I think of an authentic, gritty depiction of Italian American mob life, but not until reading “The Power of Hyphen-Nationalism” did I realize how the film navigates the fine line between realism and Hollywood stereotypes. Lopes highlighted how Scorsese’s films perfectly balance authentic portrayals with exaggerated clichés. The meticulous attention to detail, whether it be their lingo, the movie sets, or characters’ mannerisms, exemplifies Scorsese’s deep connection to Italian American roots. On the other hand, he leans into familiar tropes of Italian American gangsters, seemingly involving every Italian American with the mob. This duality strengthens the argument that while Scorsese’s work is reflective of the broader White-Ethnic stereotypes, his work remains deeply personal.
It is also a reflection of Scorsese’s lived experience as he shifted internally from Italian American filmmaker to a more White-Ethnic identity. This shift, reflective of the duality seen in Goodfellas, is referred to as Hyphen-Nationalism in the reading, a cultural movement that celebrated the collective struggles of European immigrants as it relates to the American experience. I also agree with Lopes’ analysis of how Goodfellas critiques the American Dream, noting how characters like Henry Hill are drawn to the promises of a better life but are ultimately broken by the reality of the situation. This critique aligns with the broader narrative of Hyphen-Nationalism, where the struggles of European immigrants are framed as central to the American story.
The Untouchables (1987) by Brian De Palma depicts Chicago during the Prohibition era as a city where the lines separating law and crime are blurred, offering a dramatic conflict between idealism and corruption. In Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace, Tim Pelan observes that De Palma skillfully juxtaposes the modest, constrained existence of Eliot Ness (Kevin Costner) with the lavish, even regal world of Al Capone (Robert De Niro). This visual contrast highlights the larger moral conflict at the heart of the movie.
The film’s unique combination of gangster filmmaking with Western themes is one of its most notable features. Ness is shown by De Palma as the classic “young gunfighter,” gaining knowledge from the experienced and realistic Jimmy Malone (Sean Connery). Their relationship is similar to that of a Western mentoring, where both idealism and ruthlessness are necessary to survive in a chaotic society. De Palma’s ability to build tension and take action to an almost operatic level is further demonstrated in the well-known “Union Station” scene, which pays homage to Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin.
De Palma’s artistic style adds to the film’s examination of justice and corruption by giving Capone’s world a glamorous appearance that stands in stark contrast to Ness’s modesty. The movie shows the attraction of wealth and power while also criticizing institutional corruption. Another layer is added when Pelan compares Capone’s populist strategies to those of contemporary politicians, implying that The Untouchables mirrors larger societal concerns about corruption and power. The movie’s portrayal of “The Chicago Way” is a potent reminder of how difficult it is to achieve real justice in a system that is so firmly rooted in moral compromise. In the end, The Untouchables continues to be an intriguing examination of how myth, history, and genre norms influence how we perceive bravery and villainy in American society.
I think that the Paul Lopes reading provides a fascinating perspective on Scorsese’s shift from predominantly Italian perspectives to more broad White-Ethnic American ones. His insights on Scorsese’s “public story” reminded me of Goodfellas. Just as he blends fictional elements with his personal experiences, Scorsese goes as far as to cast his own parents in the film, demonstrating how elements of his personal life inspired elements of the story. I think that this really increases the realism of the movie, as details as small as the pasta sauce recipe are related to Scorsese. In many ways, Scorsese’s film style can be characterized as exaggerated, as there is constant violence and embellishment of the mafia lifestyle. However, it also tells a very personal story of ambition, corruption, and the eventual downfall of Henry. Scorsese incorporates his own family elements which contrast the way in which the mafia believes that it is its own family. However, Henry has no choice but to testify against his former friends in court following their threat on his life, demonstrating the way in which the mafia does not carry the same unconditional love as family. However, Lopes finds that “in Scorsese’s public story, it was exceedingly rare to read criticism of the portrayal of the Italian American experience found in his biography and films.” Despite the fact that he employs consistent mafia tropes in his films, his portrayal of the Italian American experience remains valuable.
One scene from The Untouchables that was really surprising is the Union Station shootout. It starts off quiet, but suddenly gets intense when a baby carriage accidentally starts rolling down a staircase right in the middle of a gunfight. The whole thing slows down into this suspenseful slow-motion sequence, blending this innocent, everyday moment with extreme violence, making it unexpectedly tense.
Another memorable surprise is the baseball bat scene, where Al Capone is giving a speech about teamwork and unity at a fancy dinner. Everything seems calm and under control until he suddenly, and shockingly, attacks one of his own men with a baseball bat. The sudden switch from friendly leader to ruthless killer catches you completely off guard, showing just how unpredictable and dangerous Capone really is.
I’ve always heard stories about Al Capone, as someone who is from San Francisco because of his imprisonment at Alcatraz, so it makes me wonder—was he actually as unpredictable and violent as portrayed in the movie, or was that mostly dramatized for effect?
One scene from The Untouchables that was really surprising is the Union Station shootout. It starts off quiet, but suddenly gets intense when a baby carriage accidentally starts rolling down a staircase right in the middle of a gunfight. The whole thing slows down into this suspenseful slow-motion sequence, blending this innocent, everyday moment with extreme violence, making it unexpectedly tense.
Another memorable surprise is the baseball bat scene, where Al Capone is giving a speech about teamwork and unity at a fancy dinner. Everything seems calm and under control until he suddenly, and shockingly, attacks one of his own men with a baseball bat. The sudden switch from friendly leader to ruthless killer catches you completely off guard, showing just how unpredictable and dangerous Capone really is.
I’ve always heard stories about Al Capone, as someone who is from San Francisco because of his imprisonment at Alcatraz, so it makes me wonder—was he actually as unpredictable and violent as portrayed in the movie, or was that mostly dramatized for effect?
I found The Untouchables to boil the essence of prohibition crime and Al Capone’s ethos in a clear and exciting way. Many of the mafia movies we have watched leading up to this point have had long winding plots with long acts. The Untouchables was a refreshing break that followed a simpler narrative arc. I found the idea that Mamet viewed the movie as a western to be an exciting idea. The scene of the seizure at the Canadian border is the most reminiscent of classic western motifs. Ness and company ride in on horses with a classic shootout and interrogation. As Mamet describes, the western theme of the old gunfighter and the young gunfighter is the central conflict of the plot. Ness comes into Chicago to try and take down the established power of Capone.
The scene at the train station waiting for the accountant to arrive stood out as a unique and dramatic scene. With action as almost a constant for the rest of the film, the minutes of waiting built the suspense and tension to a high point in the film. During this build up, Ness is confronted with his other defining characteristic: family. When the accountant finally arrives, the simplicity and calmness erupts into all out action. The baby falls down the stairs, people are killed indiscriminately, and Ness dives down the stairs after the baby. In the end he is able to achieve both goals of protecting family and capturing the accountant which leads to Capone. Learning that this scene was basically improvised by De Palma was shocking at first, but upon further reflection makes sense. This scene is the most thematic, relying on the director’s perspective instead of complex dialogue or scene direction.
Brian De Palma’s The Untouchables (1987) is a really good example of the cinematic portrayal of law enforcement’s battle against organized crime during Prohibition. The film dramatizes Eliot Ness’s pursuit of Al Capone, showing how deeply the mafia is embedded within the city’s civic institutions. Tim Pelan’s analysis also underscores how De Palma’s Chicago is depicted as a battleground where justice is constantly challenged by systemic criminal influence.
In my opinion, one of the film’s main strengths lies in its exploration of law enforcement’s ethical dilemmas. Ness begins as a by-the-book officer but quickly realizes that conventional tactics just are not enough to work against Capone’s mafia. Malone, his mentor, pushes Ness to adopt a more pragmatic—if ruthless—approach to justice. This mirrors broader themes in crime films, where the struggle against organized crime often necessitates moral compromises.
Pelan’s article also highlights De Palma’s visual storytelling, particularly his use of striking cinematography and period details to capture the tension of the era. From Robert De Niro’s commanding performance as Capone to the violence of the film’s set pieces, The Untouchables really elevates its narrative and how it strikes the audience through it’s imagery. The Union Station shootout, an homage to Battleship Potemkin, is a great example of how De Palma constructs suspense through meticulous staging.
Ultimately, The Untouchables presents organized crime not just as a force to be defeated but as a pervasive element of society that law enforcement must deal with carefully so as not to compromise their own integrity. The film balances historical drama with high-stakes action, giving us a telling narrative of the challenges of enforcing justice in a corrupt system— as the mafia always forces its opposition to do.
For class on 2/26:
I thought that De Palma’s The Untouchables and the article by Pelan for this class were connected in a very interesting way. For some background, I was really intrigued by The Untoucables since I haven’t watched it before. It was easy to see the style this film used to represent mob conflict during the Prohibition era. This film seems to purposefully lean into the stereotypes of a Hollywood gangster movie, which is something we also discussed in class on Monday. The film makes Al Capone seem larger than life and also ruthless and violent (obviously). The film does this through a variety of scenes which explain the brutality of the mafia, its power structure, and its methodical violence. A lot of the production of this film reminded me of how the plot flowed in The Godfather as well.
Connecting to this, a lot of these principles are explained in Pelan’s article, “Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace: Brian De Palma’s ‘The Untouchables’.” The article describes how this film used elements of history to its advantage. By doing this, The Untouchables was able to (sort of) become a reflection of earlier mafia cinema. Violent scenes in this film certainly connect to films from the 1930s such as Scarface and The Public Enemy, too. This transformation really interested me and I felt like I learned a lot about how history and cinema can intertwine in the homework for this class. In general as well, this all showed how we are able to see topics from this genre such as power, loyalty, and brutality reinterpreted from classics into “modern” films.
For Feb 26: It’s a refreshing change of pace to watch a film where law enforcement is portrayed in a positive light for once. This is because at the time, the mafia image was transforming from cool and charismatic anti-heros to cold and ruthless criminals. The romanticization of the mafia organization’s ambitions were over (previous films like Scarface made you sympathize with the main character). Due to real life mafia figures getting exposed in the late 1970s and 1980s, The Untouchable film released in 1987 satisfied the public’s demand at the time: wanting to see justice served. On another note, it was interesting to read about the success of the film due to its cinematic production. In the article, Pelan highlights screenwriter David Mamet’s approach, noting that Mamet envisioned the story as a Western, focusing on the dynamic between an idealistic young lawman and a disillusioned veteran to better demonstrate character development and moral dilemmas. It was also interesting to read about the ideas behind the filming of the famous Union Station shootout and compare it with the tension I felt while watching the film. It’s interesting to see where past production choices established future cinematic cliches. Overall, I feel in awe of De Palma’s ability to fuse classic gangster films while reinforcing the film’s moral stance.
The Untouchables is the first gangster film we’ve watched that really makes the audience root for law enforcement over the Mafia. Unlike Goodfellas or The Godfather, which immerse us in the mob’s perspective, this film makes it clear from the start that Eliot Ness and his team are the good guys. A big part of that I think comes from how De Palma uses music. Morricone’s score during the raids gives them a sense of purpose and momentum, reinforcing that the Untouchables are forces of justice. Compare that to the scenes with Capone, where the music shifts to something much darker, emphasizing his control over the city. Even visually, the film leans into that contrast. Ness is introduced in a modest, almost anonymous way, while Capone is larger than life, ruling over Chicago from his lavish hotel suite. The film also frames Ness’s journey as a morality test. At first, he sees law enforcement in a rigid, black and white way, but Malone forces him to recognize that bringing down Capone requires more than just following the rules. The “Chicago way” speech is a defining moment, where Ness is confronted with the idea that real justice might require bending his principles. By the time he throws Nitti off the roof, he has fully embraced that mindset. It is a significant shift. His goal was to take down Capone, but the way he gets there shows just how much he has changed along the way.
Brian De Palma’s The Untouchables (1987) portrays the struggle between law enforcement and organized crime in Prohibition Chicago. The film follows Eliot Ness (Kevin Costner) and his team as they try to take down Al Capone (Robert De Niro). In his article Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace: Brian De Palma’s ‘The Untouchables’, Tim Pelan examines how the film blends mafia history accuracy with dramatic storytelling. Pelan discusses screenwriter David Mamet’s approach, inspired by the idea that “tragedy is just heightened melodrama.” De Palma’s use of elaborate cinematography and tension filled action scenes elevates the film beyond a just a simple mafia film even if it wasn’t one of my favorites that we’ve watched so far. Casting plays a key role in any film and De Niro’s portrayal of Capone is amazing despite playing so many different mafia characters over his career. De Palma insisted on casting De Niro, believing his presence would enhance the film’s authenticity. Sean Connery as Jim Malone brings both heart and grit, earning him an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor. Visually, The Untouchables contrasts the ritziness of Capone’s world with the grittier, lawless streets where Ness and his team operate. The cinematography and production design emphasize this divide. Ultimately, The Untouchables transforms this historic crime story into a visually stunning tale of good versus evil. Pelan’s analysis highlights how De Palma’s direction and Mamet’s script turn a this struggle into an timeless cinematic experience.
I think “The Untouchables” did two really cool things when I put it in the context of our class and the topics we’ve been discussing. First, the obvious shift in protagonist perspective is very evident in this film due to the heavy focus on mafia “protagonists” that we’ve seen throughout the course. The protagonist perspective coming from law enforcement this time around is intriguing, especially with the context of all of the films we’ve seen so far. We’ve talked about the immense pressure that the mafia places on law enforcement to create influence and push their agenda, and so far that pressure has been a positive from our main characters perspective. This film however, makes the audience feel that pressure as the protagonist perspective has completely shifted and I think that gives this film a different feel as a viewer.
The second thing that stood out to me came from connecting the film to Pelan’s article and his perspective on the mafia during the prohibition era. I wasn’t aware of the mass crime and gang activity that occurred during the prohibition era, and Pelan helped set the stage with historical context. Knowing this, it’s easy to imagine the intense pressure that law enforcement faced during this time period. With that said, it was a genius move by De Palma to put the audience in the shoes of law enforcement during this time period, not only because it adds a layer of chaos that’s good for drama, but also because it’s able to reflect the time period through storytelling.
The Untouchables flips the gangster narrative on its head–many of the films we have discussed throughout this class have centered on key members of the mafia, either as a direct protagonist or anti-hero figure. In this, though, we are introduced to a new narrative, one that presents cops not as easily swayed and unimportant pawns in the broader game of organized crime, but instead as figures with agency, to impede and eventually even take down mythical gangster figures. Of course, as the article touches on, Al Capone and Eliot Ness never actually met in real life. Still, De Palma takes liberty in his story, as the article notes that he follows the adage, “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.” De Palma employs numerous techniques to make it clear who the heroes and villains of this story are, drawing from figures like Hitchcock and John Ford to create operatic visuals, contrasting Al Capone’s opulent, well-working corruption with Ness’s moral grit. Similarly, the film employs borderline leitmotif practices with its score, notably utilizing heroic melodic themes when Ness and co are on screen, and threatening, almost brooding ones when Capone’s crew is.
How do De Palma’s stylistic flourishes and artistic liberty compare with other directors we’ve discussed this semester, with Coppola’s operatic grandeur and Scorsese’s realism?
One consistent theme I found throughout The Untouchables was that of the “young innocent” that Tim Pelan identified in the article. We see throughout the film these “young innocents”, like the girl at the beginning of the film who is the victim of the car bomb, and the young police officer who gets roped into doing the work to fight the mafia, which later leads to his death. We also see, in the Union Station scene, a mother and her child who we are worrying might be involved in the bloody shootout that the main characters are involved in. I find this to be an interesting point that I have recognized throughout many of the films we have watched so far. Often, people get roped into the mafia and into doing work with the mafia by accident or by necessity, not by want. Many people that get involved with the mafia are in it because they were unable to survive using legitimate routes, and need people to protect them. This assigns them the “young innocent” identity.
I found the interview portion of the article to be especially interesting. I am taking another film class, so I am often thinking about the filming process. It was interesting hearing about the writer’s perspective, as that often goes overlooked. I particularly was struck by what he said about making the script complex enough that the viewer is actively thinking about the movie but not too much that they’re too confused to understand it. This just explained a lot of movies that I’ve seen that felt as though they’re overcomplicated, I now understand it is due to the writer’s desire to confuse the audience just enough so that they have to be thinking. In some cases, they make the script a bit too confusing and I feel that audiences can lose the meaning of the film, but The Untouchables was not too confusing to understand.
Something that was very clear in the movie was the emphasis on family. One thing I noticed was that the movie utilized a lot of dichotomy as well as sharp jumps from one scene to a very different one to convey that family should have no part in the criminal dealing, but it did. For example, there is a scene where Al Capone says “I want this guy dead. I want him dead” and then it cuts to Ness with his baby in a carriage. There are countless scenes that do this exact thing. Additionally, in the beginning the family and crime were very distinct. Whenever it showed the family there was beautiful, light classical music in the background and even the gestures and tone of the husband and wife were soft and delicate. Additionally, when asking about the people who were sharpshooters in the class he made sure they didn’t have families. A similar situation happened when the accountant died and Ness was asked on the phone if he had a family, to which he replied no. Another use of the theme of family in the movie is to convey how truly cruel Al Capone was. Probably the most significant example is the bombing of a shop with a little girl who was trying to do a favor for the man who left his suitcase. This once again shows a dichotomy, which is of a kind little girl and a cruel man.
The theme of family was also evident in the climactic scene of the baby carriage. The article talks about how the scene “emphasises the predicament of Ness as a man representing integrity, family.” This once again shows that family and children shouldn’t be amidst of the violence, but they were and many of Al Capone’s men didn’t even give it a second thought.
Having watched Goodfellas and Untouchables back-to-back was very enjoyable. Both of them obviously depict mafia and mafia men but in entirely different contexts and styles. Both films focus on loyalty, power, and violence, but each one shows it through a different lens.
In Goodfellas, I really liked the narration style of the film. In this movie, we obviously have the story from the perspective of a gang member but not one of the main psychopaths like Tommy. We follow Henry’s fall into paranoia which is symbolized by the helicopter that he thinks is constantly following him. Another part of Goodfellas that I loved was when De Niro’s character, Jimmy, gets the idea to kill Morrie. It’s a moment where the audience can see the gears turning in his head, and it’s chilling. Also, in this movie, there was a heavy emphasis on religion and religious artifacts including crosses and the Last Supper painting visible in the dinner scene at Tommy’s mother’s house.
The Untouchables presented a different take on mafia movies altogether. For the first time in the movies we have seen, we have seen the mafia depicted as entirely in the wrong with no redeeming qualities. De Palma depicts the mafia as nothing more than an industry of violence with its members all rotten to the core. This starts off with the killing of the little girl with the bomb in the beginning of the movie. The mafia was shown to have infected cops, judges and even the mayor and only one crusader with his three other members are able to take on the monstrosity of the mafia. I liked how De Palma often inserted scenes that were not necessary but provided a view at a character’s daily life or some of their inner thoughts, it made the movie feel more real to me. One more thing that I really liked was the scene where Sean Connery insults Andy Garcia to get him mad with that cliché. I found it funny.
One last thing I wanted to talk about was the significance of one scene. It is where Kevin Costner and Sean Connery are talking in the church and they take the blood oath. I think it is extremely significant that the location is a church considering the gravity of the decision that they are making. I might be looking too much into this scene, but in a church, the main event that occurs is the Eucharist, where the priest oversees the transubstantiation of the bread into the Body and the wine into the Blood. I just thought that there was some allusion to this due to it taking place in a church. This emphasizes Ness’ commitment to sacrifice for a greater cause and devotion to this same cause, much like Christ’s sacrifice for the world. By invoking this imagery, the filmmakers may be underscoring the gravity and moral weight of Ness’s mission.
After watching Brian De Palma’s The Untouchables and reading Tim Pelan’s article “Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace”, I began to understand how the themes of Western and crime drama highlighted the moral struggle between the law enforcement and organized crime. In The Untouchables, De Palma follows Eliot Ness and his team’s attempt to dethrone Al Capone in a 1930s Chicago setting. Tim Pelan’s “Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace” analyzes and explores the narrative and stylistic choices of De Palma’s film, discovering that the film has a sort of melodramatic yet heroic approach to Ness and Malone’s dynamic as it portrays Ness as the young, free lawman and Malone as his strict mentor. Additionally, the film tends to present the worlds of Capone and Ness in two different contrasts with Capone’s being a more lavish and luxurious lifestyle while Ness’ is more modest, which emphasizes how corruption has a tight grip on the city. The film furthers by drastically increasing the stakes through Malone’s murder, which fuels Ness’ determination to destroy Capone’s empire. De Palma’s film reaches its climax as Capone is convicted for tax evasion, marking Ness’ victory but also making him reflect on the personal toll that the chase has taken on him. I do like the idea of the film making Ness realize that in his idealistic world, he can present as much freedom as possible, but there will come a time where he has to set those ideals aside and make both sacrifices and hard choices.
The Untouchables is a refreshing shift from the typical mafia films we have been watching. Instead of glamorizing the gangster lifestyle or blurring moral lines, it presents a straightforward battle between good and evil. Eliot Ness starts as the ultimate rule-follower, but he quickly realizes the very system meant to uphold justice is riddled with corruption. To fight back, he assembles a team of trustworthy officers. Yet, even Ness cannot stay completely clean—his obsession with taking down Capone leads him to morally questionable choices, like shoving Nitti off the roof. The film makes it clear that justice is not black and white, and even the so-called “good guys” are not immune to compromise.
Tim Pelan’s article makes a great point about how De Palma approached The Untouchables like a classic Western. Ness and his team act as sheriffs trying to restore order in a lawless city, a stark contrast to films like The Godfather and Goodfellas, where the criminals are the ones we root for. De Palma’s visuals reinforce this divide—Capone’s world is flashy and excessive, while Ness operates in plain, no-frills spaces. Pelan also highlights the Union Station shootout as one of De Palma’s best stylistic choices, using slow motion and dramatic tension rather than typical action, paying tribute to Battleship Potemkin. These elements make The Untouchables a stylish yet morally distinct take on the crime genre.
Brian De Palma’s The Untouchables marks a clear departure from the glorification of organized crime seen in earlier films like 1983 Scarface. While Scarface draws audiences into the rise and fall of Tony Montana, The Untouchables flips the script, making the audience root for law enforcement in their battle against Al Capone’s empire.
One of the most striking scenes that solidifies this shift is the Union Station shootout. As Eliot Ness and his men prepare to ambush Capone’s smugglers, the tension builds with slow-motion cinematography and in the score. When the violence erupts, the framing makes it clear that the Untouchables are the heroes who are struggling against overwhelming criminal forces.
Another key moment is the rooftop confrontation between Ness and Frank Nitti. Unlike mafia films where ruthless killers are often admired for their tactics, Nitti is portrayed as a cowardly villain. His desperate attempt to escape and Ness’s ultimate decision to throw him off the roof reinforce the moral stakes and underscore how justice rather than crime is glorified.
Unlike Scarface, which invites audiences to indulge in the excesses of the criminal underworld, The Untouchables constructs a narrative where law enforcement, not gangsters, are given the spotlight.
Brian De Palma’s 1987 Film The Untouchables details the story of the infamous gangster Al Capone and his illegal liquor trade empire. The movie follows prohibition agent Eliot Ness as he tries to take down Al Capone, but he is met with corruption in the city’s police department. He assembles a team of elite and loyal police officers to help him bring Capone to justice. In his article “Gang Wars, the Prohibition Menace: Brian De Palma’s ‘The Untouchables,’ Tim Pelan quoted screenwriter David Mamet’s description of The Untouchables and Brian De Palma’s directorial style: “Tragedy is just heightened melodrama.” This quote made me reflect on just how relevant melodrama was to this film. One example of this was the relationship between Elliot Ness and Al Capone, featuring highly emotional and dramatic confrontations. This is seen in the clash between Capone’s corruption and Ness’s moral obligations. Furthermore, De Palma embodied this feature of melodrama in his visual and narrative techniques, such as slow motion and the score itself. These techniques were aimed to create suspense, often leading to the audience feeling the tension and stress unfolding on screen. While watching The Untouchables, I thought about the similarities it had to a Western. Similarly to how Mamet thought of the movie, I was struck by the classic Western theme of “the old gunfighter and the young gunfighter” and the cynical veteran and idealistic lawman. I really liked the film’s portrayal of Prohibition era Chicago, particularly in the first scene. The movie opens with a stylistic homage to George Lucas, with a film noir title sequence as Al Capone receives various beauty treatments in his luxurious hotel room as reporters wait to speak to him. The on screen text paints a vivid picture of Prohibition era Chicago, telling the audience it transformed Chicago into a city of war, with rival gangs competing for the city’s control: “It is the time of Ganglords. It is the time of Al Capone.” I loved this opening for the movie – I think the stylistic depiction of Capone and the effective illustration of this era in Chicago established the film really well.
March 3rd: The phrase “why don’t you go down to Wall Street and get some real crooks?” Is a line that is said in Scorsese’s movie, Goodfellas. This statement is powerful as it ties in main themes of the movie as well as makes a social commentary remark on social economic and ethnic divides within corporate America. Both Wall Street and organized crime have the same goes of obtaining money and power, almost to a disastrous fault. However, Wall Street has a connotation of luxury, white collar crime, while organized crime is more street level crime. This remark on the desire to obtain massive amounts of money and power are seen not just within Scorsese’s “Goodfellas” but also within “Casino”. As the article states, “each film deals incisively with various forms of masculinity, particularly hyper masculinity, through the prisms of class, ethnicity, violence, and consumerism”. The main theme in both Casino and Goodfellas is the exploration of masculinity, crime, and the corruptive nature of capitalism. Scorsese makes the claim that men prove their masculinity through displays of power, wealth, and violence, which is the world of organized crime portrayed in “Goodfellas” and the high-stakes, aggressive, hustler culture of life in “Casino” which could potentially lead to unchecked greed. These two films portray the pursuit of wealth and status as a dangerous obsession, often leading to destructive behaviors and moral decay. This pursuit of wealth and status is a common theme within mafia movies thus far within the semester, illustrating how the idea of the American Dream can lead to unethical practices.
Casino was a very interesting take on the mafia movie genre as we move from the east coast to Las Vegas, taking a closer look at another variation of corruption. It’s similarities to Goodfellas are uncanny – the multiple voiceover, the pure Italian Pesci who makes impulsively violent decisions, the captivating dynamic with the protagonist’s wife, the overall, looming threat that hovers above of Rimo and his mafia men puppeteering all operations. A specific line from The Untouchables, when Malone talks about if one brings a knife to a fight you must bring a gun, is even replicated in this film. While the similarities to other mafia movies are interesting to analyze, the reading suggests an even more intriguing angle: how putting three of Scorsese’s main films together (Goodfellas, Casino, and The Wolf of Wall Street) as a trilogy creates a fascinating narrative critiquing masculinity and capitalism – and how the two interact seamlessly within one another. In regard to Casino, the film’s business is a complete “metaphor for and a manifestation of speculative capitalism”. The movie shows how the capitalistic system is in favor of ruthless, immoral men who assert their masculinity either through violence (like Nicky), or through consumerism and flashy appearances (like Ace). The system is depicted as only capable of rewarding those who commit illegal acts: “‘Back home, they would have put me in jail for what I’m doing,’ Ace says in voice-over while he receives an award from a country club. ‘But out here, they’re giving me awards.’” Casino takes the corruption shown in past mafia films and normalizes them in a legal, financial context so as to critique capitalism itself. This thus forces the audience to be introspective and realize the reality of their own American Dream, questioning how “pure” and “clean” achieving such really is.
One thing that stuck out to me from Scorsese’s Casino was the strength of stylistic devices employed to transport the audience into the 1970s. Though we have seen many films that are retelling history, Casino truly had the “period piece” feel that is referenced in the article as a result of consuming attention to detail. The film draws a lot of attention to the consumption of the characters, especially through Ace’s suits, which become more colorful and lavish as he becomes more powerful. The outfits and jewelry also seem to follow the volatile trajectory of the casino’s success. Through depictions of the ornate casino, gaudy homes, and the warm-soft lighting of Nevada the film creates a feeling of a different time. Perhaps as a result of the length of the film and slow movement of the plot, the audience gets steeped in the 1970s setting. The narrative style also submerges the audience into the world of the film by providing context, commentary, and motivations in the voiceovers. The narration provides lots of information, sometimes overwhelming amounts, that emphasize the chaos and pace of the world being portrayed in Casino. Often the narration contradicts what is unfolding on screen which emphasizes the discordant perceptions of the various characters and constantly shifting power dynamics. The abundance of details thrown at the audience both contextualize and simulate the chaos of Las Vegas which creates a feeling of almost first-hand experience for the audience through sensory details.
I found it quite interesting to watch and compare two films created by the same director especially in the context of our conversation about the trend in this time period of directors taking over the former role of the production companies, adding their own identifiable signatures to the films they create. Even before reading the article, which spells out many of the similarities between Goodfellas and Casino, I noticed several commonalties between the two films. For example, in both films, the FBI plays a large role in the downfall of our main character. In older mafia movies, the FBI is not yet on to the mafia or at least we do not see it. However, in both of the Scorsese films they have a significant presence. Additionally, I thought it was a very interesting parallel ending to see both main characters moving to a small town and living life as a normal person, or as Henry would say “a schnook.” In Goodfellas, Henry Hill ends up entering the Witness Protection Program and moving to a small suburban town. In Casino, Ace moves out of Vegas and leads a much quieter life after surviving the assassination attempt. Looking beyond storylines, I also noticed the same continuous movements of the camera with the classic voice over that we talked about in Goodfellas. This voice-over narration technique reminded me a lot of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I also noticed that there was similarly a lot of background music in Casino. Even in scenes where we are focused on the conversation taking place, there is music playing. For example, this happens in the scene around 1 hour and 12 minutes where Ginger is asking for $25,000. Lastly, at the end of Casino when Nicky is beat and buried, I was reminded of the burial scene in Goodfellas. Another commonality between the two films is that they were extremely gruesome and brutal.
Scorsese leverages “Auteur Theory” and uses many of the same stylistic techniques in Casino that he used in Goodfellas. There are numerous long takes with camera movement following the actors walking though scenes that make the spectator feel as if they’re in the movie. There are some freeze frames with a narrative to accentuate climatic moments. He also uses the camera to zoom in and out for dramatic effect. He makes use of a few narrators to draw the spectator in as if we’re being told a story from an insiders’ view point versus just watching a story.
Scorsese starts the movie, just like in Goodfellas, with an act of violence that will be shown and be explained later in the movie. This opening was particularly interesting for a few reasons. First, it leads us to believe that the character involved, Ace Rothstein (Lefty Rosenthal in real life) will die when his car blows up. Second, it goes into a long opening credit scene, a mosaic, with a background of fire and Ace’s falling body. The background then turns to flashing lights most likely symbolizing the flashing lights of Vegas without Ace’s falling body. Then the background returns to fire with Ace’s falling body returning, possibly the fire representing hell. Throughout all of this, the background music sounds like a religious church choir. Third, as we find out at the end of the movie, it’s a bit of a “rug pull” as we see that of the three main protagonists, Ace is the only one that escapes death. He’s also the only one that isn’t tremendously compromised from a moral point of view.
Again, as in Goodfellas, it doesn’t show the mafia in a great light as we see the action and drama more from the lower-level mafia men and associates. It’s less glamorous and less principle-based then what we saw in viewing the Dons in the Godfather. When we do see the Dons/bosses, they’re shown in a very different light then in the Godfather. The few scenes they’re in show them in the back of an Italian market not looking at all impressive or powerful or worthy of respect.
I wonder if part of this was cultural in the 80’s and 90’s as the “shine” had worn off the mafia. Rudi Guliani (before he went wacko) started successfully prosecuting high-ranking mafia men with many getting long prison sentences. The omerta was crumbling as people spoke to get better deals for themselves or get put in witness protection. The bosses were getting whacked by underlings. And to offset the Teflon Don John Gotti, Chin Gigante would wonder around Greenwich Village in a bathrobe to feign being mentally unfit to stand trial, which worked for a while.
I also wonder whether this was a true mafia movie or a failed love story where the protagonists just worked in or with or around the mafia. Ace should have had Ginger whacked when she messed around with the chips in her opening seen. Would have saved everyone a lot of time and money and annoying subplots. But he got hit by the thunderbolt.
Separately, be on the lookout for the new mafia movie Alto Knights, starring Robert DeNiro (of course) about mob bosses Genovese and Costello (somehow DeNiro will paly both) coming to a theater near you later this month. Directed by Barry Levinson.
Casino to me draws a lot of parallels to Goodfellas and can almost be seen as a sequel even though the plots are quite different. The first similarity that really jumps out at me is the narration style. In both of the movies there is a narrator telling the story from their own perspective. In Goodfellas I pointed out that Karen was one of the narrators which was a big departure from normal mafia films where women don’t tend to have a primary role. In this film it is the two main mobsters that are narrating the story which gives two very different perspectives because of how different the two characters are. One of them is Nicky who is played by Joe Pesci. He is extremely violent and plays a very similar role to his character in Goodfellas. This contrasts with Sam who tries to be more level headed and is not seen doing any acts of violence in the film. Even though it seems like Goodfellas was the more popular film out of the two, I felt that Casino had a much deeper plot and hit harder than Goodfellas. They both had a typical rise and fall of power, but with Casino it was different. The high was so incredibly high because they were running a whole entire Casino and the fall down period was extremely prolonged. My first thought after watching the movie was that the downfall with Sam’s wife was stretched out way too long and went into too much unnecessary detail. I also thought that this made the last third of the movie very predictable and the nail was put on the coffin when Nicky had an affair with Ginger. However, after thinking about it more I believe that Scorsese did that on purpose to amplify the feeling of the destruction of their power. It made their downfall even more gruesome and grueling.
After our discussion in class about Scorsese’s directorial “signature,” I found his trademark shots hard to miss in Casino. The casino tables lend themselves perfectly to the angles from above, and the gaudiness of the Las Vegas strip plays into the Baroque aspect of his detail-rich shots. Perhaps because I was paying attention to these similarities, as well as other aspects like the soundtrack and voiceover, I did find that the movie felt a little repetitive. The comedic elements, abrasive violence, and wife character felt too similar between the two movies, and without the novelty of the film style, I found that I liked the Casino less. Honestly, I think I would have appreciated the film more without having seen Goodfellas first, but I can respect that Scorsese was establishing his directorial style. In this way, I tend to agree with the reviews quoted in Moloney’s article, that Casino is “old territory already travelled” (Bondanella 279) [and] “GoodFellas removed to Las Vegas” (Friedman 175).
I did find the article’s discussion of gender roles and the difference between Nicky and Ace’s characters to be interesting. I particularly liked how the characters’ wardrobes, such as Ace’s pastel suits, were illustrative of their values. For example, Ace cared more about being respected and viewed as a legitimate and affluent man, which was reflected in his wealth of light-colored clothing. In this way, he challenged the typical mafia view of masculinity, which is shown through Nicky’s exaggerated violence. While we have seen how the mafioso’s rise can be demonstrated in their clothing, this movie utilizes the costuming in a unique way to set up a foil between the two central men.
The movie Casino was a very long and interesting film. While I was watching I couldn’t help but compare it to Goodfellas. As noted by the reading as well, Martin Scorsese does a great job throughout the films of sweeping the viewer into the “life” it’s portraying. I think that this happens through the narration and the simplicity of the depiction of this “life”. Casino specifically focuses on the intricate detail of the day-to-day life in the casinos, including who’s watching who on the floor and how it runs – which I found to be very interesting. The way in which the narrator explains how the casino runs is very straightforward and it allows the viewer to feel like these actions and this “life” are normal as opposed to illegal. It is a way for the viewer to gain empathy toward the main characters, especially when the films end “badly” for them. Throughout the film the actions become more and more intense which grows with the intensity of the plot. I also found there to be a few scenes that were very hard to watch because they were so gruesome. Specifically, the scene where Nicky and his brother were killed was, although not alone in violence, one of the more gruesome scenes in the movie – at least for me. I thought this film particularly highlighted how the everyday actions of people like Ace were so intertwined with organized crime. I also enjoyed seeing the same shot types Scorsese used in Goodfellas and how in just 5 years there was so much development in the producing and editing of movies.
Moloney touches on this quite a bit but I can see very clearly how this film serves as a rather explicit critique of the ruthless evolution of capitalism by putting the mob-like business in the same sphere as legitimate business, effectively blurring the lines between the two by showcasing the mutual practices in both spaces. The vehicle for this sort of juxtaposition and, yet simultaneous parallelism, between legitimate business and mafia business is mirrored in the dual narrative between Rothstein and Santoro, a technique that is a signature of Scorsese films. I think it also fairly interesting that Rothstein rather frequently speaks within the confines of the “system” and usually rationalizes everything he does with business while Santoro is more loose and unfiltered which creates a separation between the two although, ultimately, what they want and what they do at its very core aren’t much different at all. Also tying into Moloney’s conversation regarding masculinity, it’s particularly apparent that Santoro and Rothstein exemplify clashing perceptions of masculinity characterized by ruthless aggression and calm logic, respectively.
Casino feels like a natural continuation of Goodfellas, but instead of focusing on street-level gangsters, it shifts to the world of high-stakes business. Ace Rothstein is different from Henry Hill. He is disciplined, methodical, and determined to make the casino run as smoothly as possible. Yet, no matter how much success he achieves, he is still bound by the same unwritten rules of the mob. No matter how much power he seems to have, he is always at the mercy of forces larger than him.
The Moloney reading connects Casino to Goodfellas and The Wolf of Wall Street, arguing that all three films critique capitalism and masculinity in different ways. What struck me about Casino in particular is how it makes the most direct comparison between criminal and corporate America. Unlike Henry Hill, who sees crime as an escape from working-class struggles, Ace operates within a system that looks completely legitimate on the surface but is just as corrupt underneath. The film constantly blurs the line between legal and illegal business, showing how violence and exploitation are at the heart of both. Even as Ace tries to run the casino like a professional, his success is always dependent on the mob’s approval. The more he tries to maintain control, the more unstable everything becomes.
Stylistically, Casino builds on many of the techniques that made Goodfellas so engaging. The near-constant voiceover narration keeps the film moving at a rapid pace, immersing us in the characters’ thoughts and giving us multiple perspectives on the events unfolding. Scorsese also uses freeze frames at key moments, which I found interesting because they emphasize pivotal turning points, almost as if the characters themselves are momentarily frozen in realization before everything spirals out of control. The fast cuts, dynamic camera movements, and pop soundtrack all contribute to a sense of energy and momentum, even as the story becomes more chaotic.
The quote in the reading that stuck out to me the most was “By seducing viewers into this world and implicating them in the characters’ actions, the film creates empathy with characters who would typically be dehumanized as part of the criminal working class.” I felt like this encapsulated a lot of the points within the article as well as how these mafia movies are so enjoyable/successful. Viewers are pulled into the worlds of these characters in close and intimate ways. In Casino especially, the need to hide one’s actions and conversations is very important. Because of this, the viewer of the movie is able to feel intimately involved in conversations that a bystander could not. The scenes of Ace and Nicky talking in his car with the radio on or in the desert surrounded by nothing but sand bring you extremely close to the characters and the plot. This level of intimacy almost inherently creates a positive connection between the viewer and the main character. You experience these moments of stress and intensity with them and, as the article wrote, “not as a passive spectator, but an accomplice”. Another point they discussed was the important distinction made that the main characters are shown to clearly not enjoy killing for its own sake “only the material comforts these acts provide him”. Unlike Joe Pesci’s side character roles in Goodfellas and Casino, Ace and Henry are both shown in multiple circumstances where they flinch and turn away from the killings or murders they witness or take part in and are only seen smiling later when they reap the benefits. It is another way the viewer ends up almost rooting for these characters that, from an outside perspective, are pretty violent criminals.
While watching Casino, a few thematic and stylistic elements stuck out to me most. One stylistic element that I found interesting was the use of lighting. In various scenes throughout the film, dramatic lighting often shines directly onto Sam, almost in a god-like way. For example, we see this lighting on him when he finds Ginger on the phone with Lester on the day of their wedding, as well as when Sam and Nicki are in an establishment outside of Las Vegas talking about how Nicki was in the black book. I think this could have been depicting the perception of Sam as a legitimate businessman with strong values, which sharply contrasted the depiction of Nicki’s seemingly senseless violence. However, I think by creating such a stark contrast between the characters, the film acknowledges that Sam’s “legitimacy” was really not much better than the brutal violence carried out by Nicki, as Sam’s rise to the top was made possible because of the mafia’s work. In the article, “Why Don’t You Go Down to Wall Street and Get Some Real Crooks?”: Capitalism and Masculinity in GoodFellas, Casino, and The Wolf of Wall Street,” Moloney highlights the parallels that exist between a mafia employee and a typical corporate employee. Because the film’s protagonist a non-Italian businessman who seemingly operates within the boundaries of the law, Casino questions the meaning of “legitimacy” by blurring the lines between apparently “legitimate” business and the mafia’s organized crime.
Another thematic element that I am curious about discussing was the repetition of the concept of “back home” vs. “over here” throughout the film. I felt like by constantly using the word “back” when describing “home” and the mafia bosses’ base, Sam was associating the mafia’s activity with something that was behind him or in his past. In contrast, Las Vegas was described as the here and now. I think not only through this language, but also through the imagery of the fast-paced metropolitan lifestyle of Las Vegas in the movie, the city was depicted as the exciting, modern way of the future for Sam. I’m not sure if this was intentional at all, but it almost reminded me of the much larger picture of the context of the mafia in Sicily compared to the U.S. and how this has been depicted in some of the films we’ve seen. While the mafia originated in Sicily, the way forward for the mafia was planting its roots in U.S. soil, where it could continue to grow and expand. I felt like many connections could be drawn between the backwardness of the mafia operations “back home” vs. the business operations in Las Vegas and the backwardness of mafia operations in Sicily vs. the business operations of the mafia in the U.S. in the early-mid 1900s. This was further emphasized for me in Casino during a conversation between Nicki and Sam when Nicki says Later Nicki says “the more I talk to you the more I think you don’t wanna go along with me.” As the movie goes on, Sam attempts to leave behind the violent, backward mafia operations that Nicki is so entangled in rather than “go along” on the route that ultimately leads to Nicki’s (and many others’) death.
What I find most interesting about Casino is how it takes the themes of power and excess from Goodfellas and reframes them through the lens of control and taste. In Goodfellas, Henry Hill indulges in wealth recklessly—money, clothes, cars, everything is a symbol of his rise, but it’s all about immediate gratification. In Casino, Ace Rothstein sees consumption differently. His obsession with precision, from his perfectly matched suits to the exact number of blueberries in a muffin, isn’t just vanity—it’s his way of asserting dominance.
What really stood out to me was how Ace’s masculinity is tied to his sense of taste. Instead of using brute force like Nicky, he exerts control through refinement. The scene where he mocks Lester for not knowing what a “good watch” is says it all—Ace doesn’t just have money, he knows how to spend it properly. But what’s fascinating is that despite all this focus on aesthetics, there’s very little actual enjoyment. The film bombards us with music, luxury, and spectacle, yet the characters are emotionally detached from it all. It’s almost as if Ace, Nicky, and Ginger are just going through the motions, proving their worth through consumption rather than actually living.
Compared to Goodfellas, which feels more impulsive and alive, Casino is colder, more calculated. Both films show how the pursuit of power ultimately leads to destruction, but Casino makes it feel inevitable, like Ace was doomed from the start because he put too much faith in a system that could never truly be controlled.
Scorsese’s Casino illustrates the auteur theory we discussed in class, employing distinctive storytelling techniques such as extensive voiceovers, choreographed camera movement, impressive montage sequences, and stylized color and lighting to tell the story of the rise and fall of mafia authority over the Las Vegas casinos. As described in Maloney’s piece, Casino is part of a larger narrative that highlights the transition to financial capitalism in the neoliberal era, conveyed in the film’s final minutes with Ace’s comment regarding the shift to legitimate authorities. Like Goodfellas, Casino begins by establishing a conflict that the audience anticipates throughout the film, as tension builds between Ace and Nicky’s complicated relationship. I was particularly interested in Maloney’s analysis of how the film critiques the diverging forms of masculinity. Nicky, played by Joe Pesci, uses violence to assert his dominance and convey his masculinity to the point of becoming a caricature of the mafia stereotype, embodying the same attitude and values as Tommy in Goodfellas. The pen-stabbing scene contrasts his character with Ace, who is never seen killing someone yet thrives in a system of organized crime that grants him opportunities to conduct his orders of business. Ace projects his masculinity through what Maloney calls conspicuous consumerism, sporting overtly large sunglasses and tailored flashy suits that reminded me of Rupert Pupkin in King Of Comedy. Scorsese also explored this theme in Goodfellas through the flaunting of fur jackets, imported furniture, and jewelry; what’s worth noting is how both female characters in these films embrace this conspicuous consumerism and become entirely dependent on it. I thought that placing Ace’s flashy appearance against the desert setting characteristic of the Western genre underscores this fixation, highlighting the excess of Las Vegas.
After watching Casino, I can see why so many people draw comparisons between it and Scorsese’s other films such as Goodfellas. While the two films were released five years apart, both portray the downfall of those who engage in the mafia lifestyle. I agree with Giovanni’s response in that Casino almost appears to be a commentary on capitalism, with organized crime running a respected institution. In Scorsese’s America, greed and ambition are rewarded. The success of the criminal world parallels the way in which the U.S. rewards unfair and often disingenuous business practices. In many films and media, Vegas is symbolic of unchecked greed and capitalism, illustrating a greater moral decay in America. Ace’s personal struggle revolves around losing control of his life. While Vegas initially presented a good opportunity for him to be successful, the fragility of mafia relationships shattered this illusion and led to his downfall. From a narrative perspective, Casino is very similar to Goodfellas, with Scorsese using non linear storytelling to reveal what happens to key characters. Other stylistic choices, such as long shots, a high amount of narration, period music soundtracks, and violence, remain consistent with Scorsese’s film style.
The shift from mob rule in Vegas to that of corporate conglomerates is a fascinating metaphor about the true nature of the American Dream, what we consider to be “legally” acceptable, and the contrast between organized crime and corporate transgression. In Casino, we witness Sam “Ace” Rothstein’s rise and fall as the mafia head of the Tangiers Casino in Vegas. The casino is a vehicle for the mob to skim millions of dollars in cash. However, despite the steady, level-headed “Ace,” the cast of characters (and what they represent) corrode his power and control, ultimately leading to an FBI Investigation and the transition to corporate rule. Ace’s love interest, Ginger McKenna, a high-end hustler, has an affair with Nicky, Ace’s childhood friend and violent enforcer who goes on a crime spree, and the two, through their actions, undermine Ace’s rule. Ginger ultimately becomes addicted to drugs, becomes paranoid, and overdoses, and Nicky is murdered by mob enforcers for his recklessly violent actions. In the midst of all this, Ace’s rule is corrupted and the FBI begins to investigate the casino and it is taken over by a corporate conglomerate. This film highlights the corruption of the American Dream and how oftentimes, it is those around you in these violent, chaotic worlds, who corrupt the dream. It emphasizes control (Ace) vs chaos (Ginger and Nicky) and loyalty vs betrayal–all traditional mafia motifs. I think a particularly striking theme is the illusion of glamour. I read an article that stated that the film spent over a million dollars on costumes with De Niro having over seventy and Stone having over forty–a seemingly ridiculous amount that cements this illusionary nature of success. As Moloney’s article points out, Scorsese’s energetic camera work and rapid editing, in addition to his costumes, create this chaotic world that shows both the fantasy-esque success of this violent industry and the harsh, cruel fall from power that occurs. I think the transition from mob rule to corporate is also very interesting. Where Goodfellas and Casino depict traditional organized crime, Wolf of Wall Street shows corporate greed. What both films have in common is this idea of hypermasculinity and systematic corruption–an interesting insight into the world of high power, wealth, and “success.” While one route is deemed legally and morally acceptable, the other is seen as cruel and wicked. But I could argue that the mafia world is in fact the most honest and truest form of the American Dream without the smoke screens and mirrors of the corporate world. Is it better for corruption to come in a noticeable form or hidden in a digestible manner? Scorese shows both in his countless films and it is interesting to see the parallels in not only the themes, but also the way these films are shot–designed to evoke similar patterns and motifs.
I Cento Passi was a perfect example of what was discussed in this chapter of Cosa Nostra. This chapter talks about the mafia’s fight against the government of Italy, and this film is a biographical retelling of this fight on a smaller scale. This film allowed us to identify with Peppino, and gave us a personal count of the violence of the mafia in its’ resistance against the Italian government. We get to know Peppino, and to like his character and root for his success, but then he gets killed and is not avenged until much later. It is difficult to consider that this is a true story. But this was the reality in Palermo, the mafia wars with the government claimed many lives, and those who spoke out against the mafia were particularly in danger. As explained in Cosa Nostra, in the war against the Italian government, the mafia carried out many bombings and personal attacks on government officials who tried to enact policy against them, and on those who tried to protect and support them. The beginning of the chapter details a very emotional resistance to the mafia. It talks about the wives of victims of the mafia, like Vito Schifani’s wife, Rosaria, who gave a “harrowing voice to her own desolation and to a city’s rage” (410). This led to people repeating her words, asking the Mafiosi to kneel and become men of God to repent for their sins, and creating many other signs on bedsheets to outline their requests to stop the mafia and to save their city. Cosa Nostra also details her emotional speech at the funeral, including when she broke a glass without realizing it due to the weight of her agony. The actions of the mafia directly impacted families across Italy, something that often goes unnoticed in media depictions of the mafia that glorify the violence and the riches they incur.
Marco Tullio Giordana’s film “I Cento Passi”, or “One Hundred Steps” tells the story of Peppino Impastato as he takes a stand against the Mafia in Sicily. The film also follows Tano Baldalamenti, the mafia boss in the small town of Cinisi. The powerful title refers to the one hundred steps it takes to get from Peppino Impastato’s house to Tano Baldalamenti’s house. John Dickie’s chapter from “Costa Nostra” titled “Bombs and Submersion 1992 – 2003” also discusses examples of resistance to the Mafia. The film ends with the murder of Peppino Impastato, emphasizing the risks of opposing the Mafia. Similarly, the chapter talks about how the Mafia retaliated against Judge Falcone and Judge Borsellino who created anti-Mafia laws. In the same way the community honored Peppino, people also rallied behind the judges, showcasing the effects on the community. Throughout the film, the audience hopes for the best for Peppino, especially due to the fact that it is a true story, and we become personally attached to his character, making his death more emotional and impactful. Toward the beginning of the chapter, Dickie details personal effects of the Mafia, as he discusses the wives of men who retaliated and were killed. I found it really interesting how Peppino broadcasted his opposition to the Mafia on his radio show “Radio Aut.” Further, as stated by Dickie, Peppino also wrote the article “La Mafia è una montagna di merda,” meaning “Mafia: a mountain of shit,” highlighting Peppino’s devotion to fighting the Mafia. Both the film and the chapter emphasize the powerful impact of individual’s resistance against the Mafia, detailing the sacrifices made in order to fight for morality.
The reading shows how the mafia changed after the early 90s. At first, they were attacking the state directly, killing judges, bombing cities, trying to scare the government into backing off. Instead, it led to crackdowns, arrests, and stricter prison conditions. When that didn’t work, the mafia switched tactics. They stopped drawing attention and focused on blending in, using corruption instead of violence to stay in power.
The movie focuses on someone who didn’t accept the mafia’s control. Peppino grew up in it, but instead of staying quiet, he fought back. He used radio to call out the corruption everyone knew was there but wouldn’t talk about. His murder plays out the same way as the assassinations in the reading. The mafia kills him and tries to cover it up, hoping no one will care enough to push back.
Both the movie and the reading show how the mafia operates when it’s challenged. They use violence when they think they can get away with it, then go quiet when the backlash is too strong. The movie makes it personal, showing what it costs to resist. The reading follows what happened after, when the mafia stopped making headlines but didn’t go away.
In Casino, Martin Scorsese builds on themes central in GoodFellas, such as greed, hypermasculinity, and the illusion of control, to make a more brutal commentary on capitalism, showing how the pursuit of power and wealth in a corrupt system inevitably leads to self-destruction. Similar to GoodFellas, Casino uses electric energy, voice-over narration, and a pop soundtrack to demonstrate the fun side of this life, but in Casino, it’s even higher risk, higher reward.
Moloney in the reading highlights how GoodFellas critiques the American Dream by exposing the moral absence of the mafia lifestyle. Casino takes it one step further by shifting the focus to the shiny, yet deeply corrupt, world of Las Vegas. Robert De Niro’s Ace Rothstein believes he has mastered the system, puppeteering and controlling every aspect of his casino empire. Time goes on, however, and it becomes clear that Ace’s control is a facade. Like the appearingly almighty Henry Hill in GoodFellas, Ace is broken down by his own arrogance and the chaos rooted in the greed, betrayal, and the inherent instability of the system he once thrived in.
However, it is Scorsese’s portrayal of Las Vegas as this quintessential microcosm of capitalism is where Casino distinguishes itself from its former pair. The casino’s are filled with flashing lights and a promise that any man could walk out filthy rich. The entire thing is a lie built on exploitation of temptation and moral gymnastics. Ace’s downfall is deeply personal, but it is also meant to highlight the systemic factors. Through his structural collapse, Casino gets at this idea that there is no happy ending in this game, just a story that hasn’t ended tragically yet. I thought it was a theme intentionally expanded on in Casino, with a more general commentary on unchecked ambition and capitalism.
I think what is fundamentally different about I Cento Passi (The Hundred Steps) is that instead of centering on a charismatic gangster, it follows Peppino, a figure of resistance. Despite being born into a Mafia-connected family, Peppino rejects his father’s loyalty to local boss Gaetano Badalamenti. Instead of falling into the criminal world like Michael Corleone, Peppino wages a public battle against it. Through his radio station, Radio Aut, he exposes Mafia corruption with satire and journalism, although making himself a target in the process.
Furthermore, unlike traditional Mafia movies, which often depict organized crime as a thrilling, powerful institution, I Cento Passi deconstructs its myth. The Mafia here is not seductive but oppressive, a force that suffocates the local Sicilian community. Peppino’s struggle is not about gaining power for himself—it’s about breaking his people free from it. His assassination at the hands of the Mafia is not a cliche act of betrayal within the criminal world like most films but a brutal attempt to silence the truth. It is dark and honest.
The film reminds us that real Mafia stories aren’t just about those who run it—but those who dare to resist it. Peppino’s defiance, though fatal, sparks a legacy that exposes the Mafia’s crimes. In a genre that often romanticizes organized crime, I think I Cento Passi offers something fundamentally different by telling a story of resistance.
With this class’s theme focusing on the anti-mafia movie, I think we can clearly see how “I cento passi” functions within anti-mafia rhetoric. The most simplistic way to summarize the plot is that a boy rejects the mafia and his family’s ties to it. But what I find more interesting is the extent to which this film fills the anti-mafia niche. I admit, I am not well versed in different schools of political and economic thought, but using the communist perspective and introducing it through Stefano Venuti seems like an interesting way to present an anti-mafia argument. When we first see the communist side introduced, it is presented via Venuti’s speech in the street where he critiques the construction of the airport, the interests of big corporations, involvement of the military, and the government’s greed. While I don’t know the history behind Venuti’s ideologies or speeches, I felt this was a push against rationalization in Sicily (rejection of efficiency, predictability, and the standing legal-rational authority in Italy in some regard). This is particularly curious when we consider the mafia’s origins in Sicily and that, as we read in Dickie, the mafia becomes a protection and resistance to rationalization in Italy with the institution of centralized government. Despite these origins, I think both organizations inevitably devolve as they become more expansive and thus come to depend on rationalization, to some extent, to maintain their presence. With the mafia, there is a hierarchy established, and the power of certain mafioso positions lies in the title and not the person. For the communists, we see Peppino begin to give orders and transmit organizational information through technology with his radio station while also starting to become a hierarchical figure himself. I think the continued juxtaposition of these two camps is interesting, but particularly in the context of framing Peppino’s story as profoundly anti-mafia on the basis of his communist interests.
I did not know what to expect from the movie, I cento passi, but I loved it. A beautiful film that highlights the resistance to the mafia. This follows the theme that has been developing about the portrayal of the mafia as evil and antagonists in the last few mafia movies we have seen. I found many similarities, stylistically, between this movie and the untouchables. I loved seeing the movie to the story that we had recently read for this class.
I thought that the introduction of the characters was done marvelously with the death of peppino’s uncle being obvious foreshadowing to what was to come for peppino himself. I also liked how in the movie no gore or dead bodies were shown, it was implicit and I think done in a way to not detract from the message of the movie which was to show the evils of the mafia.
The plot poignantly shows how Peppino, under the oppressive influence of the mafia, becomes increasingly susceptible to adopting another extreme ideology: communism. Desperate for change, he is drawn to the promise of liberation, but this shift reveals the dangers of radical beliefs, as communism, like the mafia, ultimately demands sacrifice and rigidity. The film highlights how oppressive forces can manipulate individuals, pushing them toward extreme ideologies that, while offering a sense of hope, still come with their own destructive consequences. I took particular notice of a portrait of Che Guevara, a notorious murderer and disgusting criminal that hung on a wall of their radio station. This, to me, was one of the most interesting examples of ignorance, as they were fighting against the mafia, who they were rightly describing as murders, while ignoring that communism was equally (if not more) guilty of the same crime.
I also picked up on the religious tones of the movie. The most prominent of which was the constant prayers of the Hail Mary at the different funerals: emphasizing the deep religious ties that the island of Sicily has. There were also many depictions of the crucifix which I found very interesting and almost a sort of foreshadowing as peppino would later be subject to beatings and death, much like Christ.
Lastly,something that is very important, even though his father is portrayed as a mafioso, when peppino is speaking out against the mafia, Luigi is mad but even more so he is scared. This is extremely important as it shows the probable reality for many in the mafia – they were too scared to speak out. They followed orders because they had to or risk punishment.
For Mar 5th: I really liked the idea of this bibliographic movie and how it paid tribute to Peppino, as well as many others, who were assassinated and killed by the mafia at the time. It allowed their sacrifices for the greater good to spread. In the movie, Peppino’s morals and selfless actions really stood out, especially when contrasted with his father’s decisions, making the impact of his death hit harder. The movie had accurately captured the historical events mentioned in the readings, such as how Falcone and Borsellino were murdered at the time for defying the mafia. It enraged the public and sparked great legal action towards the mafia. However, though many of the mafia responsible for the crimes were arrested, the readings describe how the mafia shifts and takes on a “submersion” strategy by maintaining control through corruption and political infiltration. Ultimately, Sicily and Italy still could not fully be freed from the mafia organization. As much as the public and personnel resisted against the mafia, the mafia’s resistance and adaptation towards modern (economic and political) warfare persists.
Some interesting cinema choices in this movie included the tracking shots of Peppino during scenes of movement through his town or during political activism. This created a sense of energy and urgency, emphasizing his restlessness and determination to challenge the mafia. A notable long take occurred when Peppino walked through the town, symbolizing his growing division from both his family and the mafia-controlled society around him. It really evoked a feeling of sympathy and sadness for the main character.
Unlike the glamorous narratives of The Godfather or the stylized violence of classic gangster films, I Cento Passi tells the raw, true story of Peppino Impastato, a young activist who dared to challenge the mafia in Sicily. The film follows Peppino’s transformation from a rebellious teenager in a mafia-connected family to a radical activist using radio and satire as weapons against organized crime. His journey is a blend of personal defiance, political awakening, and tragic resistance, evolving from youthful defiance to a sophisticated critique of the mafia’s grip on his community.
John Dickie’s historical context from his chapter on the mafia in the 1990s and early 2000s illuminates the film’s backdrop. This was a period of intense conflict, marked by brutal mafia bombings in 1992 that killed prominent anti-mafia judges, and a growing public resistance to criminal power. The film captures this tension, showing how individual acts of courage can challenge seemingly invincible systems of oppression. The title itself is a powerful metaphor – “I Cento Passi” (which means “the hundred steps”) refers to the distance between Peppino’s family home and a local mafia boss’s house. It’s a visceral representation of how close criminal power was to everyday life, and how deeply it was woven into the social fabric of Sicily.
What struck me most was the film’s use of humor as resistance. Peppino doesn’t just condemn the mafia—he ridicules it, using radio broadcasts to expose its absurdity and moral bankruptcy. His defiance strips away the myth of mafia nobility, revealing its parasitic nature. More than just a story of one man’s fight, I Cento Passi is a powerful testament to courage, community, and the impact of speaking truth to power.
On one hand, I really respected and resonated with Peppino’s activism. It takes intense passion to stand against one’s childhood teachings to fight for a dangerous cause. The way the movie was shot, the fashion, and the music during Peppino’s younger years felt very nostalgic and almost naive. As if the commentary was telling us “look at these young, foolish, hippie kids fighting against institutions they have no chance against.” Peppino and his friends speak with such gusto that viewers are on the edge of their seats the whole time waiting for the ball to drop.
On the other hand, I just felt bad for his family, even his father. Although his father was part of the corruption that Peppino was advocating against, he seemed sad that their relationship dissolved because of Peppino’s work. Peppino’s mother knew danger was heading his way and frequently pleaded that he pull back. His brother had a breakdown after their father’s death because Peppino made the funeral political as well. While I admired Peppino’s selflessness in fighting for a better Sicily, I also resented how selfish he was in disregarding the toll it took on his loved ones. In a way, his activism felt reckless, like he was on a suicide mission, indifferent to the consequences because he wouldn’t be the one left to deal with them.
The communist activism had a youthful, immature aggressiveness that made it difficult to take them seriously until it was too late. It was during his time on the radio when his words reached far and near, that Peppino gained emboldened power. Even though I want to be frustrated with him for not being more careful, the bittersweet final scene of the film made his struggle worthwhile. This really aligns with the Cosa Nostra chapter in which people rally behind the judges who fought against the suppression of the mafia. The chapter also relates to Peppino’s family as the wives of the men who retaliated not only had to mourn their husbands, but were burdened with continuing their causes to fight against the mafia.
I thought the movie I cento passi was a somewhat powerful portrayal of the anti-Mafia movement in Sicily centered around the life and assassination of a man named Peppino Impastato. The film follows Peppino’s rebellion against his own Mafia-connected family that eventually leads to his murder. What stood out to me the most was how the film framed his fight not just as someone against organized crime but also against the complicity of society.
I thought this film tied well into the reading from chapter 11 of Cosa Nostra, where Dickie describes the Mafia’s shift in strategy during the 1990s and early 2000s. This chapter showed how Cosa Nostra responded to state crackdowns with violent attacks. The reading also discusses the Mafia’s evolving relationship with the state, which felt relevant when considering the film’s portrayal of political and judicial corruption.
I thought this film also built on themes from Salvatore Giuliano. Like Salvatore Giuliano, I cento passi avoids glorifying Mafia figures and instead focuses on those who oppose them, exposing the reality of power and violence in Sicily. Similarly, I remember the movie Il mafioso depicting the Mafia’s reach across different aspects of life, something we see in this movie when Peppino’s father represents the old system that Peppino fights against.
What makes I cento passi stand out, I think, is its depiction of activism against the Mafia. I felt like in The Godfather Mafia power was romanticized, but this movie dismantles that myth by focusing on real-world resistance. This reminded me of how we talked about early American Mafia films shaping racial and mythic stereotypes, while later Italian films challenged these images. The movie makes a strong case for breaking the cycle of silence, showing that fighting the Mafia isn’t just about crime but instead it’s about resisting an entire system of control.
Watching I cento passi, what struck me the most wasn’t just the story, it was Peppino himself. He’s the kind of kid who questions everything, who refuses to just accept things the way they are. He’s sharp, curious, and not afraid to poke fun at the system, even when that system is the Mafia. It’s rare to see a character so young be so sure of his beliefs, especially when everyone around him chooses to stay quiet.
Another thing that stood out was how beautifully the film captures Sicily. The warm, golden landscapes and small-town streets almost make you forget the weight of the story. There’s something surreal about watching Peppino walk through these stunning places while taking on something so dark and dangerous. The contrast between the beauty of his world and the corruption he’s fighting makes his story feel even heavier.
What I kept thinking about is how close everything is. The title, I cento passi (The Hundred Steps), literally refers to how close Peppino’s house was to the Mafia boss’s. That’s what makes his fight feel so personal. He wasn’t taking on some distant enemy, but it was right there, woven into his everyday life.
The film left me thinking about what it means to speak up when no one else will. Peppino wasn’t just rebellious, he was relentless. And even though his story is specific to 1900s Sicily, the feeling of being surrounded by something wrong and wanting to change it? That feels universal.
Marco Tullio Giordana’s I cento passi (2000) follows the life and assassination of Peppino Impastato, an activist and journalist who openly opposed the Sicilian Mafia. Peppino and Tano Badalamenti, the Mafia boss, have a close yet deeply antagonistic relationship, ultimately resulting in Peppino’s death. Although Peppino comes from a Mafia-affiliated family, he rejects his legacy and publicly positions himself as a challenger to Mafia power. Peppino utilizes his broadcast platform on Radio Aut to critique Mafia corruption, exposing the illicit workings of the organization. Additionally, he mocks Badalamenti, questioning his aura as an untouchable Mafia power. This public ridicule undermines the fear and respect that drive Mafia operations.
John Dickie’s “Bombs and Submersion 1992–2003” from Cosa Nostra: A History of the Sicilian Mafia discusses the consequences of resisting and challenging Mafia power, as illustrated in the film. The reading discusses Giovanni Falcone and Paolo Borsellino as leading the largest judicial attack against the Mafia, the Maxi Trial. They proved that the Mafia operated as a criminal organization, not just a collection of associated individuals. Just as in the film, in 1992, the Mafia struck back, unwilling to be publicly undermined, and Falcone and Borsellino were both killed in bombings. Their assassinations, like Peppino’s, highlight the dangers of confronting Cosa Nostra and the lengths to which the Mafia will go to maintain its power. However, both the film and the reading emphasize how their deaths galvanized public opposition, leading to stronger anti-Mafia efforts.
How does Marco Tullio Giordana use framing to emphasize the power dynamics between Peppino and Badalamenti, particularly as Peppino challenges Mafia authority? How do these visual choices compare to traditional depictions of Mafia bosses in film where camera angle and framing is used to dramatize the Mafia’s power?
As a young child, Peppino is thrust into the realities of life in the Mafia. Because of the car bomb placed on his uncle, who happened to be a Mafia boss, Peppino lost his innocence at such a young age. After bumpy relationships with people he seemed to be close with, he became a member of the opposite party and was actively protesting against the Mafia. Peppino brought to light the Mafia’s corruption and brutality and the urgent need to put a stop to it. Unfortunately, the Mafia killed Peppino and staged it to make it seem as though it was a terrorist attack, which further showcases the Mafia’s constant strategy of deception. Both of these works just highlight how the Mafia used terror to maintain power and fear in the heart of others. All in all, these works represent an early example of the Mafia’s response to opposition, one that escalated to large scale terrorism, showcased in both Cento Passi and Bombs and Submersion with the bombings.
I Centi Passi was interesting in the way that it portrayed the mafia not as a mythical empire of power and wealth, but as a pervasive and oppressive force embedded into daily life. It doesn’t just focus on the violence but shows how deeply fear and complicity shaped the community. That’s what makes it feel so real to me.
Thinking about it in relation to Bombs and Submission adds another layer to the impact. The period marked a shift in how the mafia operated. After years of brutality and high-profile assassinations, they needed to adapt. The bombings of the early 90’s, meant to intimidate the state into submission, ultimately had the opposite effect. The government cracked down, pursued thousands of arrests, and dismantled much of the mafia’s traditional power structure. However, instead, the mafia just embedded itself into politics and business in a more subtle way. Its influence could persist without the need for open violence.
This is what makes I Centi Passi powerful. Peppino stood against the mafia at a time when it was seemingly invincible and even though his story ended badly, his defiance was notable. Ultimately, I came out of watching the movie and reading Cosa Nostra thinking: has something changed with the mafia, or have they just moved in different ways?
I Cento Passi and the transformation of Toto Riina’s villa into a public institution both symbolize rebellion against the mafia’s grip on Sicily. The film follows Peppino Impastato, who openly defies Cosa Nostra despite his family’s ties and in the end loses his life. His defiance contrasts sharply with Toto Riina’s misguided confidence that his power would endure, as seen in his luxurious yet confiscated Corleone villa, which the state repurposed to benefit the public.
Both narratives highlight the mafia’s exploitation of communities by controlling resources, politics, and culture while showing how resistance emerges. Impastato’s radio broadcasts expose corruption, just as Judge Falcone’s and Borsellino’s legal efforts dismantle Cosa Nostra’s influence. The mafia retaliates with violence, but its power is undermined by public outrage, the rise of pentiti, and state reforms.
Despite setbacks, these acts of defiance fracture the mafia’s mythology. The transformation of Riina’s villa into a school and the public protests following the murders of Falcone and Borsellino illustrate how rebellion, whether individual (like Impastato) or collective (like post-1992 anti-mafia movements), can erode organized crime’s authority. Both the film and real-life events show that resistance was essential in challenging the mafia’s control of power. I wonder if the deterioration of the mafia’s grip on power through individuals who failed to comply and rebelled has parallels with the fall of governing authoritarian regimes throughout the course of history.
I cento passi beautifully portrays the social struggle between the mafia and the people of Sicily and Italy through the story of Peppino Impastato. While other mafia movies use real events to add to the glory of the mafia and further mythify their perception, I cento passi uses reality to portray the brutality and tragedy of living under the mafia. Like many other mafia movies, the protagonist is introduced as a child. However, in this case, the protagonist is anti-mafia. Now, the same empathy is built around Peppino. Not everyone can agree or empathize with the communist cause, but, by showing the impetus of Peppino’s ideology, the viewer understands the situation which drives Peppino to his actions. Furthermore, the quality of the footage gives the film a feeling of being produced at the time of Peppino’s life in the seventies rather than being released in 2000. While not documentary in nature, the film emphasizes the reality of the scenes it portrays.
I found this film to capture, what I assume to be, the true emotional weight of living with the mafia. Life is not more exciting and wild because of the mafia. Instead, the mafia creates rifts in communities, families. The people being affected by the mafia’s actions are not background characters. They are people with full lives with dreams and desires. The death of Peppino, which coincided with the death of Aldo Moro, feels like the start to the years described in the chapter in Dickie. A shifting consciousness in society to one of a hope for change rather than feeling trapped in the current status quo. The march for Peppino at the end of the movie is a statement that the mafia must be dealt with, even if the fight would take decades to come.
I Centi Passi felt very different from the other films we’ve watched for this course. On one hand, this was a film about the mafia: the power structure of the organization is overt, the extrajudicial actions (such as bailing Peppino out of prison) are displayed, and the violence of an assassination is carried out without regard for the law. While this is all true, there were moments when I felt as if I were watching a movie about a son rebelling against his father, who wanted him to take over the family business.
This made something clear to me. While the mafioso was introduced into popular media as a gross retaliation against unification by the South and morphed into an image of vigilante creed, the mafioso is also just a business with people at the top and bottom and leaders who seek to maintain and consolidate more power and wealth. From this perspective, Peppino’s actions and the film’s premise retaliated against the American dream. Ultimately, it’s a film about the growth and maintenance of power and the next generation of mafioso leaders asking whether they want or need all that power anymore. At the film’s start, in a toast to the wedded couple, the family laments their previous poverty and toasts to never being poor again. The family elders fought their way to the top in a new country. Their children, however, grew up in a world of excess and wealth.
Once the first-generation immigrants reach the top, what does the American Dream look like for second-generation immigrants who didn’t experience poverty and hardship? Do they still crave the same dream?
Both the movie and the article talk about retaliation against those who spoke out against the Mafia. The article, for example, talks about the murder of Don Pino Puglisi for having and sharing an anti-mafia stance. The movie obviously showed the murder of Peppino, who was very outspoken about his anti-mafia stance in his radio. Something I thought was interesting in the movie was when Peppino is talking about the nature around him and its beauty and how it’s misleading because up close you know that there’s houses with tvs and other things. He then says “Nobody remembers what it looked like before. It takes so very little to destroy beauty.” To me, this seemed to resemble what the Mafia has done to Sicily. Nobody remembers a time before the mafia. It is very normalized, which is why at the end of the movie after Peppino was murdered, Peppino’s friend says “Why don’t we Sicilians admit it once and for all. We want the mafia. It makes us feel safe.” This shows how the structure of the society is not only reliant on the mafia and complicit with its activities, it is also welcoming of it. The friend continues with “We identify with it, we like it.” As for the other part of the original statement by Peppino that it takes very little to destroy beauty, I think this is reminiscent of the fact that Siciliy was beautiful and didn’t have a looming reputation above their heads. The mafia started off small and slowly but surely grew its roots deep within society thereby destroying its beauty. I think the whole movie had the effect of putting a mirror up to Sicilians and showing them how much the mafia has changed their lives despite them not knowing it because, as I stated previously, nobody remembers what Siciliy was before the Mafia.
The genuine story of Peppino Impastato, a vocal anti-Mafia activist who is killed for his opposition, is told in Marco Tullio Giordana’s 2000 book I Cento Passi. This film focuses on opposition, highlighting the personal cost of speaking out, in contrast to usual Mafia films that emphasize internal power struggles. The title “One Hundred Steps” depicts the ideological and physical separation between Peppino and Tano Badalamenti, the Mafia boss who lived a short distance from his family’s home.
This change in Mafia representations is contextualized in John Dickie’s chapter “Bombs and Submersion 1992–2003” from Cosa Nostra. Following the assassinations of judges Falcone and Borsellino in the 1990s, the government intensified its crackdowns, which prompted the Mafia to strike with bombings before withdrawing into a more covert, less obvious form of control. By showing Peppino’s defiance and the Mafia’s violent reaction, the movie reflects this history.
The movie also uses ideology to show opposition. Peppino’s activity is closely linked to communist principles, presenting his uprising as a component of a larger political movement rather than merely a single act of resistance. He further illustrates how public discourse may be used as a weapon against tyranny through his use of media, especially Radio Aut. By portraying the Mafia as a repressive power rather than a noble legacy, I Cento Passi departs from idealized portrayals of the organization. The film’s focus on Peppino’s activity and selflessness is in line with the actual change in public opinion Dickie talks about, signaling a clear turn toward anti-Mafia cinema.
Despite being made in 2000, I Cento Passi adopts a documentary-like style that immerses us in Peppino Impastato’s life. Early in the film, the static camera mirrors his initial position within his community. However, as Peppino’s activism intensifies, the cinematography shifts, using pans, tilts, and push-ins to emphasize his growing defiance and the emotional weight of his fight against the Mafia.
This stylistic evolution parallels the historical reality of Mafia repression. As Dickie details in the reading, the Mafia survives not just through violence but through strategic adaptation. In the 1990s, it transitioned from high-profile assassinations to subtler forms of control, submerging itself when necessary. Similarly, I Cento Passi portrays Peppino’s gradual isolation before his ultimate silencing, reflecting the Mafia’s method of eliminating threats while maintaining its grip on the community.
The film also exposes the hypocrisy of the Mafia’s claim to protect its own. Many mafia films frame the organization as the underdog against the government. Here, however, the “little guys” who should stand with Peppino instead abandon him. As Dickie notes, the Mafia’s power lies in its ability to manipulate allegiances, ensuring that even dissenters like Peppino are seen as threats rather than allies.
By integrating historical context, I Cento Passi becomes more than just a biopic. It illustrates how the Mafia systematically erases those who challenge it, reinforcing that Peppino’s story is not just personal but emblematic of a broader, entrenched system of suppression.
I found I Cento Passi incredibly interesting for a number of reasons. To start, I think there are a lot of stylistic differences than previous movies we have watched, and the lighting, character energy, and plot seem entirely different than that of the Italian-American mafia movies which often incorporate darker lighting and more violent scenes throughout the course of the movie rather than intentionally weaving violence in as this movie did. In my opinion, using violence less often almost speaks to the significance of it in this movie whereas I feel as if I had started becoming a bit desensitized to the violence in Italian-American mafia movies (especially Scorsese’s movies which seem like murders happen in every other scene). Another thing I appreciated about this movie is the evolution of Peppino over time. It is interesting watching Peppino’s anti-mafia activism, despite what it has done to his family. One specific scene which I found compelling was when Peppino’s father throws him to the ground and tells him to “honor thy father.” The father then goes into an elaboration about how Peppino learned to respect his father as a young boy in church, signifying the reinforced themes in mafia movies to honor one’s family and devotion to religion. I find this scene interesting, especially in correlation with the Cosa Nostra reading in which Rosaria has an interesting reaction to mafia members after Vito’s murder. In the text, she states, “Men of the mafia, I will forgive you, but you will have to get down on your knees.” She also notes that they should “become Christian again” signifying that being part of the mafia and being devoutly religious cannot happen concurrently. Alternatively, the scene in the movie tries to take an alternative stance when the father uses religion as a motive for Peppino to stop talking poorly about the mafia on the radio. Thus, I find it quite interesting seeing how religion can be used to both justify mafia actions and disapprove of mafia actions depending on the situation.
After watching I Cento Passi and reading Cosa Nostra, I noticed how both tended to explore the Sicilian mafia’s power and the resistance against it. I Cento Passi tells the story of Peppino Impastato, who was a Sicilian journalist and an activist who outwardly opposed the Mafia. Ironically enough, he was born into a family that had ties with the Mafia. Through his broadcasts and political activism, Peppino brought attention to the corruption and violence of local bosses, which would later end up costing him his life as he was murdered in a staged suicide. While I Cento Passi addresses the dangers of challenging the Mafia and authorities like it, highlighting the culture of silence that allowed that authority to thrive, on the other hand, Cosa Nostra examines the Mafia’s response to state crackdowns in the early 1990s, starting with the assassinations of judges Giovanni Falcone and Paola Borsellino, which led to a mass of arrests and trials. The Mafia ended up abandoning its campaign of open violence and ultimately adopted a shadow-like strategy due to the intense pressure they were faced with. The Mafia organization focused on secrecy, political infiltration, and economic influence instead of its former reliance on direct confrontation. While both works highlight the struggle against the Mafia’s control, they both work together in revealing the deep ties of organized crime in Sicilian society and the long war of attrition against it.
I first began wondering about the reaction of mafia men to the development of this culture of gang movies a few weeks ago after watching Mafioso, and the question is even more relevant now with I Cento Passi. This film is certainly very different from all of the others that we have studied up to this point with its emphasis on the cultural interactions between the Mafia and the Italian and Sicilian people. As Dickie says, the “situation in Sicily was [becoming] a national emergency” (317). The timing of I Cento Passi’s release in 2000 also seems to coincide with a sort of cultural revolt against the influence of the mafia and their growing lack of concern for subtlety and discretion. High-profile murders on the part of the Cosa Nostra and an increasingly powerful anti-Mafia police force all played a role in this change that we have not seen up until this point in their history.
I especially appreciated the great amount of symbolism that Giordana embedded in the film. Beginning with the proximity of the Impastato and Cosa Nostra houses, reinforcing the idea of the Mafia’s fundamental integration with society up until this point. Additionally, I found Peppino’s radio show to be a bit ironic – with all the power that the mafia had amassed, they were being threatened at their core by a young guy with a radio show. At the same time, it does highlight the impact that just one young activist like Peppino can have, especially at a time when few felt compelled to speak out against corruption.
I still have questions about the actual reaction of the mafia to an impactful and ‘direct’ movie like I Cento Passi. Did this movie stir up unrest within the ranks of the Cosa Nostra, or did it unite them behind a drive for further control and power?
For class on 3/5:
After watching Giordana’s film and reading the chapter from Dickie, I thought it was very interesting how these two offered different perspectives on the influence of the Mafia on Sicilian society. Giordana’s film clearly tried to do this by focusing in on the defiance of Peppino. In the film, he is trying to expose the corruption of the Mafia at home. On the other hand, the reading also considers resistance to the mafia by detailing its response to threats to its system. The reading also explores more specific ways in which the mafia resorted to extreme measures to counter state intervention. Overall, I think these two sources share a key difference in how this resistance is represented and how the mafia responds to it. In one case, the film seems more rebellious and individualized, while the reading touches again on a theme we have seen for a while which is the institutional power of the Mafia.
Additionally, I thought that Giordana’s film for this class was super interesting and a bit different than what we have explored so far. Even though it was produced more recently, it clearly has different attitudes towards the mafia and introduces the rise of the “anti-mafia movie” like the topic online also makes clear. I thought that both sources for this class were complementary, as well, in their perspectives on the Mafia, and they taught us more about the complexities of the Mafia system.
*Il Cento Passi* stands in stark contrast to *Goodfellas* and *Casino* because it actively works against the glamorization of the mafia that so many other films indulge in. While Scorsese’s films show the allure of wealth, power, and excess before eventually revealing their consequences, *Il Cento Passi* strips away any romanticism from the start. It doesn’t invite the audience to revel in the mafia lifestyle—it condemns it outright.
What I find most striking is how different its protagonist, Peppino Impastato, is from Henry Hill or Ace Rothstein. Henry and Ace are insiders who benefit from the system until it turns on them, but Peppino is an outsider from birth, rejecting the mafia’s control over his hometown. Instead of showing the mafia from the perspective of those who profit from it, *Il Cento Passi* exposes its stranglehold on ordinary people, making it a far more political film than Scorsese’s work.
Another key difference is how these films treat power. *Goodfellas* and *Casino* show the mafia’s internal logic—rules, hierarchies, and the eventual downfall of those who try to bend them. *Il Cento Passi* dismantles this logic completely. The mafia isn’t a thrilling, rebellious force here; it’s oppressive, corrupt, and deeply intertwined with the state. There’s no rise and fall—just a crushing inevitability.
It’s also interesting how *Il Cento Passi* uses realism differently. While *Goodfellas* and *Casino* use direct narration and kinetic energy to immerse us in their worlds, *Il Cento Passi* feels more restrained, more like *Salvatore Giuliano*, focusing on history and political reality rather than spectacle. Instead of seducing the audience with the mafia’s appeal, it asks them to confront its brutality head-on.
John Dickie’s Bombs and Submersion (1992–2003) details a time when the Cosa Nostra’s excessive violence led to massive state and public backlash. The 1992 assassinations of judges who opposed the mafia Giovanni Falcone and Paolo Borsellino sparked national unrest, leading to numerous protests in Palermo and government crackdowns on organized crime. The Italian state responded increased law enforcement efforts and the expansion of witness protection programs. The mafia shifted strategies in response to these new efforts, moving away from high-profile acts of violence to a less public presence in both business and politics. Marco Tullio Giordana’s I cento passi (2000) tells the story of Peppino Impastato, a political activist who openly opposed the mafia. Despite growing up in a crime family, he used his radio show to expose Cosa Nostra’s corruption. This unfortunately led to his assassination. The film shows how more people were willing to fight against the mafia despite the risks by the late 20th century. Both the film and Dickie’s chapter show how the mafia could no longer rely on violence for power. The killings of Falcone and Borsellino mobilized public opposition in a way they never could’ve imagined as the state increased their efforts to destroy the Cosa Nostra. I cento passi illustrates how people like Peppino played a role in this shift in public sentiment towards the Cosa Nostra, showing that opposition to the mafia was becoming more widespread. While the Cosa Nostra survived by changing its methods, the scope of their power on the island of Sicily did take a massive hit.
Once again, this week Dickie is giving us a lot of historical context to the film that we watched. Giordana’s film places a large focus on the anti-mafia perspective and the dangers that come with resisting the mafia. The audience sees how the mafia has substantial control and influence on every day life in Italy, and the pressures that come with that for civilians. This substantial control shows us why resisting the power of the mafia would be a very difficult thing to do while staying alive in the process.
Dickie’s focus in the text is more on the version of the mafia that ruined their reputation publicly though the car bombings. This mafia is more underground and less public in their influence, however their underground control was still substantial and opposing them was still a deadly action. This idea of the mafia having a reach on entire communities is mirrored in the film and the text in two different ways, but that theme is strong throughout both.
Lastly, I think it’s important that Peppino is our protagonist perspective for this film because of his familial relationship to the mafia. I think it brings more realism to the film having the resistance come from a part of the family, because of the deep understanding that Peppino has of the organization. If the film was focused on a random person who had a rise to societal influence and somehow evaded the mafia’s violence it would feel a lot less personal to the audience. Thus, choosing the character of Peppino was a fantastic choice for the sake of realism, and to challenge the traditional theme of family in the mafia and take it a completely different direction.
One of the most interesting aspects of Donnie Brasco is how it plays with the idea of morality in a way that isn’t black and white. On the surface, it seems clear: Donnie is the “good guy” because he’s an undercover FBI agent taking down criminals, and Lefty is the “bad guy” because he’s a mobster. But as the film unfolds, it becomes harder to make that distinction. Lefty, despite being a killer, has a strong sense of loyalty, mentorship, and even vulnerability, while Donnie, the supposed hero, becomes more morally compromised as he gets deeper into the Mafia world. He starts lying to his wife, becoming violent, and ultimately betraying a man who genuinely cared for him.
It raises the question: does doing the “right” thing justify betraying someone who trusts you? And if Donnie loses himself in the process, is he still the hero? The film doesn’t give an easy answer, which is what makes it so compelling—it challenges the idea that morality is simple and instead shows how it’s shaped by circumstances, relationships, and personal codes of honor.
Right from the opening credits scene you know that this will be a different type of mafia movie. It’s starts out with very melodramatic music and quick cuts between characters with some of those cuts being extreme close-ups of Donnie Brasco looking very pensive, sad even. This is very different than Scorsese’s opening to Goodfellas and Casino where we see an act of mob violence from later in the movie. You get the feeling here that the movie will give more focus to the human interactions/consequences side of the mob. And that is what we end up seeing.
There are two major human interplays going on here. First, there is the interplay as Lefty becomes a mentor to Donnie and explains the ins and outs of mob culture and behavior. I think Lefty sees in Donnie the son he wished he had versus the junkie son he does have – someone he can nurture and love. For Donnie there could be a bit of the Stockholm Syndrome happening as he starts to identify more with his mafia colleagues than his FBI colleagues. When his wife tells him that he’s becoming like them, he replies that he is one of them. Donnie feels so much for Lefty, that he does two touching things. First, when Lefty’s kid is in the hospital due to an overdose, Donnie goes and visits the hospital and stays there even after Lefty tell him to leave after their relationship fractured in Florida. Second, he was going to give Lefty a bag containing $300k that Donnie hid from Sonny after the Florida raid, so Lefty could live his dream of exiting the life, getting on a boat with Annette, and sailing off never to be heard of again. In effect, allowing Lefty to avoid prosecution and jail by the FBI or possible death for bringing in an FBI agent into the family.
This leads to the second major human interplay. This is about someone’s relationship to their job. In this area, the movie could be about any type of job and an employee’s relationship to the organization and how that organization recognizes and rewards its employees. Donnie appreciates Lefty’s mentorship because it seems that he is getting more encouragement and care from Lefty than from his FBI bosses. It’s only the low-level FBI tech geeks (including a young Paul Giamatti) that tell him he’s doing a great job. When they show the scene of Pistone getting a medal, it’s a closed ceremony with no press, just his family in attendance with the senior FBI officials muddling through the presentation in a purely perfunctory way. The requirements of the job are also putting a huge stress on Donnie’s family life. It’s not discussed much in the movie but Pistone’s assignment was supposed to be relatively short but he did it so well and kept getting more and more ingrained into the family, that he and the FBI kept it going.
Another part of this same employee-organization relationship deals with Lefty. Lefty seems to be fairly mediocre as an earner – he’s always short of cash and borrowing from Donnie, he barely makes enough to cover the vig on the gambling debt he owes Sonny Red and was disrespected by Sonny Red who asks him if he’s going to make this week’s vig in front of the other made men and associates waiting outside the lounge in an early scene. What Lefty is good at is being a hitman and being loyal – he repeatedly recounts his 26 kills and how he took care of Sonny Black’s family when he was in the pen.
When Sonny Black gets moved up to be a Capo, Lefty resents it and questions why he wasn’t moved up. This is a fairly general type employee dissatisfaction over not being promoted. But he feels his loyalty and skill aren’t being appreciated by the organization. Then Lefty sees a breakthrough for himself with the deal down in Florida. This is a new idea, an organizational innovation where he can better show his earning power and enhance his standing within the organization. But it’s stolen from him by Sonny Black, no different than any boss stealing a great idea from an underling. I actually felt sad for Lefty when he meets Trafficante and Trafficante asks where Sonny Black is. The dejection on Lefty’s face, the shattering of his dream, was an emotional moment. Even though he’s a mob guy and a killer, we can empathize with his disappointment. Lefty pushing Donnie away on the boat as he thinks that Donnie betrayed him to Sonny and his sitting in solitude is a touching moment.
So, a mob movie, yes; but also, a human drama about relationships between people and the organizations they serve.
Donnie Brasco is an interesting film in contrast with many of the others that we have watched. Unlike many which focus on either an individual or group in the mafia or in the police force, Donnie Brasco has a double agent as well as a more blurred line between good and bad. The film doesn’t necessarily portray the mafia in such a negative light so much as it reinforces the dangers of being a double agent. Donnie, despite going undercover to expose the mafia, demonstrates loyalty to Lefty, even beyond his loyalty to his family. Lefty as well demonstrates loyalty both to the mafia–despite never moving up in the ranks–and to Donnie. In focusing on the relationship between Donnie and Lefty, the movie neither glorifies and glamorizes the mafia nor directly villainizes it. Instead it shows the influence that Donnie’s undercover life has on his character. Despite his extreme commitment to being undercover, seemingly to do the “right” thing, his morals become more and more compromised. In an attempt to protect his cover, Donnie lets the other mafiosi beat up the man at the restaurant to keep his shoes on and then destroys the tape–the beginning of the blurring between good and bad. He also becomes more and more distant from his family and even hits his wife, demonstrating his undercover persona being taken too far. Throughout the film it seems to get more and more ambiguous as to where Donnie’s loyalty lies. At the end, when he stopped reporting back to the police, it felt unclear for the audience and maybe even for Donnie on who he was going to side with. Ultimately, all of his undercover work was extremely successful in taking down many mafiosi but Donnie did not seem to come back out, leaving it vague on if he is meant to be a hero and demonstrating the commitment and complexity of being undercover.
Donnie Brasco shares the true story of Joseph D. Pistone who goes undercover as an FBI agent who infiltrates the Mafia under the alias of “Donnie Brasco.” The film explores his relationship with Lefty Ruggiero, who is a low-level but deeply loyal mobster. Lefty takes Donnie under his wing and teaches him the ways of the Mafia while also treating him somewhat like a son. However, as Donnie gets deeper and learns more about the criminal underworld, he begins to struggle with his dual loyalties, both to the FBI and to Lefty, who genuinely trusts him. The film explores deeper themes and the conflicts between duty and loyalty, as Donnie has to betray the very people he’s grown close to for the mission. Yacowar’s article also discusses the conflicts that arises when one has to choose between loyalty and duty. Yacowar argues that Donnie Brasco (the film) presents a take on this conflict by framing it within male bonding and the codes of honor in the Mafia. Both Lefty’s loyalty to the Mafia and Donnie’s duty to the law and the FBI make them somewhat mirror each other in some aspects, but at the same time it also places them on opposite sides and at war with each other, yet both parties don’t know that, which eventually lead to Lefty’s death. I really liked the part in Yash Dutt’s blog post that says how although Lefty works in the Mafia, he seems to be a kindred spirit who is loyal and a mentor, while Donnie, who is supposed to be this hero and good guy, begins to get morally corrupt and more evil as the movie goes on despite being and working on the side that society deems to be more respectable. Overall, both the article and the movie bring up very important discussions on the tensions between love and honor and how they can intertwine.
The movie Donnie Brasco by Mike Newell depicted the mafia differently than some of the films we have watched. This film is based on a true story which is an interesting detail on the boldness of depicting the mafia at this level. The reading touched on this as well, but Hollywood seems to feel more secure in making movies about the mafia with realism as centric as possible. Joe as a character created much controversy throughout the film, also speaking to the boldness of the film. His character was brought under the wing of a mafioso named Lefty – who spent the majority of the movie explaining his loyalty to the mafia and the little recognition he received for his commitment. More broadly, throughout the film we see the struggle between love and death for Joe, as the reading also explained. However when watching the film I couldn’t help but think about how the battle between love and death was individually Joe’s emotions towards Lefty. The film shows Joe’s family, however similar to Joe’s life as Donnie, they were a small part. Lefty, on the other hand, stands to be killed because of Joe’s actions therefore Joe is more emotionally invested. The last thing I noticed was how much Joe almost wanted the life of the mafia. At first he was very willing to help others, aka the FBI, and stay in contact with his wife and kids but throughout the film you saw his character commit to his role in the mafia and desire to keep it over his real life. This metaphor was shown also through the first and last shots of the film being his eyes and the loss of innocence within them.
I think one of the most interesting aspects of the “Donnie Brasco” film is how it seems to marry a lot of “historical” elements of the traditional mafia or gangster film with the more prominent anti-mafia stance of the movie (at least as compared to earlier mafia films of similar style). The most obvious example to me goes back to the earlier days of the gangster and censorship battles surrounding the morality of the films and the portrayal of mafiosi versus police. The film takes a “safe road” in that it centers around an FBI agent and pushes the audience to sympathize with this character, but, simultaneously, it critiques the FBI as an institution showing its pitfalls in misunderstanding the mafia system, prioritizing its operations over individuals, and ultimately pitting the FBI against the main character that the audience forms a connection with. This seems to echo early struggles with censorship throughout production of the 1920s’ and 1930s’ mafia movies in which the mafioso/gangster was never meant to be idolized or shadowed by the audience and the police or opposing force were never meant to be shown in a bad light. “Donnie Brasco” certainly does an interesting job of walking this line. We see this brought up in the selected reading for today’s class in the consideration of the potential threat of immoral heroes and how audiences identify most with the character they watch most. If we sympathize with Donnie/Joe, but we see him brought under moral scrutiny by his wife, the FBI, and other non-mafiosi figures in the film, how does this make us reevaluate our moral interpretations of these other people and entities?
I thought that “Donnie Brasco” provided a particularly interesting perspective of the mafia because it showed how the ‘family’ aspect and code of morality could appeal to outsiders. Unlike other mafia movies, Donnie/Joe doesn’t join the mafia in pursuit of glory, wealth, or safety. He doesn’t have a criminal streak and isn’t escaping a tumultuous household. So, uniquely, it is the bonds and loyalty of the mafia that draw Donnie in, putting his marriage and family out of mind. This adds to the neglect of romantic love in favor of duty that Yacowar points out, in which Donnie puts aside his wife and family first for his duty to the FBI, and then to Lefty and the mafia.
The relationship between Lefty and Donnie was very intriguing because it was much more emotional (and borderline romantic) than the typical macho persona that mafia characters have. It was an intriguing contrast to have these excessively violent, hypermasculine men have such a soft relationship. This relationship complicates the morality of the FBI and the law, and blurs Donnie and Lefty’s roles as the good and bad guys, respectively. Because Donnie cannot carry out his duty as an FBI agent without betraying his best friend, and cannot carry out his duty as a (faux) mafia member and Lefty’s friend without betraying the law and his family, the true struggle of the movie is internal. This contrasts the typical structure of the mafia movie, in which the struggle is between the mafioso and some external power. It also allows the movie to consider the morality of the US government along with the morality of the mafia.
Donnie Brasco felt like a more realistic take on mafia relations than Good Fellas and other previous movies. What struck me about the previous mafia films was the lack of character development regarding the relationship between characters. In Il Mafioso, for example, we don’t learn much about the relationship between Marta and Nino or between Nino and his kids; the plot is centered around his mafia career. Similarly, in Good Fellas, the relationship between Henry and the other mafioso men, such as Tommy or Paul, is never fully developed. These relationships aren’t the focal point of Good Fellas; the mafia is. In the Public Enemy, Tom’s relationships are almost comically thin. At the film’s start, the extent of his drive to join the mafioso is the focal point, not his relationship with his hometown or the friends he left behind. This all comes second to the mafia.
Donnie Brasco was a welcome reprieve from this. While it was no less violent than previous mafia films, Donnie Brasco was unique because it deeply evaluated a relationship between a mafioso man and an (although in disguise) outsider. This felt more realistic than the violent caricature of Good Fellas. Brasco and Lefty develop an increasingly intimate and complex relationship.
At the beginning of Donnie Brasco, it seemed like the film might have been a comedy or parody of the mafia rules and customs. I think this is the first movie we’ve seen that so blatantly verbalized all of these mafia unspoken rules. In other films we’ve seen, these customs are signaled in a more discrete way and seem to stay fairly unspoken (these customs are shown rather than explicitly told to the viewer). However, in Donnie Brasco, we see how Lefty explicitly stated the rules while teaching Joe the ropes of being a wise guy. By doing this, the film becomes (like others we’ve seen) a film about that mafia that isn’t really about the mafia. Rather, the story of Donnie Brasco was a context through which Newell could tell a story about love and honor, as discussed in the reading.
While watching the film, I felt that Donnie and Lefty were developing a genuine father-son-like relationship centered around Lefty showing Donnie the ropes and how to be successful in this world. I was confused to read Yacowar’s interpretation of their relationship as romantic in some way. Unless I missed something (or a lot of things), I viewed the love of their father-son relationship as something that contrasted honor in various ways. Honor is betrayed by Donnie (Joe), who becomes so immersed in his bond with Lefty and his new mafia way of life that he sort of falls short in fulfilling his role as an investigative FBI agent. This contrast of love and honor is central to the film and reflected by Donnie’s internal conflict about ratting on someone who he has developed such a close relationship with. Donnie, and the viewer, might question in these circumstances what the most “honorable” choice of action would have been. We see that Donnie’s relationships with other investigators or people in the FBI felt very transactional, which contrasted that of Lefty and Donnie’s relationship. For instance, this is exaggerated during the rushed ceremony, honoring Donnie for his service in the FBI by throwing a medal at him and taking a picture. I think the film does this to depict a sort of lack of genuine honor, or a form of honor that has disappeared outside of certain organizations like the mafia.
I really enjoyed seeing the parallels between this movie and others we have seen so far as I feel I am enjoying the movie through a different lens. To start the movie we have a montage in a police-esque way as if someone were doing a stakeout– foreshadowing to the later plot twist in the movie. This seemed very similar to Casino, where it starts with flashing lights reminiscent of a casino. Later, the dialogue between Lefty and Don flows extremely well and we effortlessly learn about the “chain of command” and the hierarchical mafia structure as well as the importance of the “friend of mine/ours” distinction. Then we have the plot twist that Don is an undercover agent with the FBI and the recurring motif of the typewriter giving us narrative updates much like in de Palma’s Untouchables. (It is parallels like these that I feel I am now able to see unlike before). Another very important scene is where Lefty is in the front seat and constantly checking the rear-view mirror even though he’s with people he’s known for 20 years. We later find out that his uneasiness is valid when Sonny Red betrays all of them in Miami and when Lefty shoots and kills his friend that Sonny Black called a rat. We see that the mafia are not only wise-guys but that they are mindless killing machines. We see the parallel between them and our protagonist after the slaughter of Sonny Red’s guys when Sonny Black and co are dancing and celebrating while Joe goes back to destroy his entire apartment in pent up rage. The last point of the movie that I wanted to talk about was when Paulie sits behind Don in the car where Paulie is out of focus and both the viewer and Don are on the edge of our seats as we don’t know if the mafiosi have discovered Donnie’s secret. Which we later find out that Lefty did in fact know (at least about the boat) but kept it secret.
I think this movie also is very good at being a criticism of both the mafia and the FBI; the mafia for being untrustworthy murders and the FBI for being too bureaucratic and not helpful to their own. The movie also expertly shows us that even though we may begin to be sympathetic towards someone like Lefty and we don’t want him to die, he has still carried out 26 hits and does indeed have blood on his hands. He may be funny and likable, but he’s a monster. Meanwhile our protagonist who we should root for and love treats his wife and family completely as an afterthought compared to his job. A priority that almost strips him of his life ( his wife of a husband and his kids of a father) and rewards him with 500 dollars. We are shown that being too righteous and dutiful does not pay due to the inherent flaws in our system.
The corruption of moral code and the struggle between honor and love is particularly interesting in Donnie Brasco and reminds me of a similar struggle in The Untouchables. Donnie Brasco follows an FBI agent, Joseph Pistone, who goes undercover as a jewel thief in the Bonnano crime family in New York. In the process, he befriends Lefty Ruggiero, an aging hitman stuck at the bottom of the mafia hierarchy, who serves as a paternal figure to him. As the operation progresses, Joseph Pistone/Donny Brasco is forced to betray Lefty. However, this comes with much emotional turmoil,l and while he is celebrated for his work, his actions led to the (suggested) death of his mentor and friend. Donnie is forced to prove himself by beating a man to death in Florida and encounters the ridiculousness of the mafia world, even facing a lion. The film, while showing a powerful, strange world, holds a gritty message of betrayal and emotional hardship at its core. Joseph, in his righteous quest, betrays his internal loyalty and morality. Was it worth it? Similarly, in Sling Blade, as pointed out by Maurice Yacowar, there is a story about redemption and finding peace in a new life while protecting it against all those who threaten it. I am reminded of a quote I heard growing up: “You can either be dead right or dead right.” Sometimes, there is the right, honest thing to do; other times, you must listen to yourself and your morality. Joseph is faced with a similar dilemma–the betrayal of his paternal figure in his lawful quest.
American Gangster struck me because it focused on how organized crime can be innovated upon to become even more successful. Frank Lucas changes the game by becoming his own boss that works on by himself. Gone are the ways of the mafia families with their complex rules and tradition. Lucas boils down his business in two simple steps: better quality goods for a lower price. In his eyes, Lucas is running a business like any other businessman. While he uses a disguise at the beginning when he is selling, he wears expensive suits and lives in fancy apartments for the rest of his time. There is a disassociation between Lucas and the nature of his business, but the audience is constantly reminded of the harm the drugs do with cuts to people overdosing across the city. Even when Lucas directly comes into contact with the product, for example his trips to Thailand, his behavior is that of any other business deal. The product could have been anything. It just happens to be heroin. This portrayal of Lucas returns to the glorification of organized crime in the past. Lucas brings his family to live in a large house. He provides free turkeys to people on Thanksgiving. He lives a lavish lifestyle, brushing elbows with celebrities. In the end, Lucas is viewed as a product of the system that is equally corrupt on both sides. While the effects of his business were significant, the audience does not blame him for his actions. This dynamic is what Jay-Z finds so appealing about the movie. Lucas’ internal struggles and motivations provide an exciting opportunity to dig into the mind of a gangster. The complex societal structures make the perfect playground for all types of art, including music.
Wednesday 19th: As we discussed in class on Monday, we have now shifted our mafia movie selection from just movies about Italian American mafia life that glories the gangster lifestyle to mafia movies that criticizes the Mafia lifestyle and document the gangster lifestyle beyond the Italian American experience. American Gangster is a perfect example of this new wave of gangster movies. I would argue that American Gangster is not a mafia movie but instead a commentary on gangster lifestyle of the black American community in Harlem NY in the 1970s. American Gangster uses key themes of mafia movies like having the opening scene be violent and has early commentary on how capitalism has erased the nostalgia of the past gangster lifestyle. However, unlike many mafia movies of the early 1900s in Hollywood, American Gangster explores the black American experience in Harlem, showing a transition into new cultural associations about the American gangster being multi-ethnic, dealing with drugs and guns rather than alcohol, the Italian American mafia expertise, which has continued into todays society. The continued transition of the mafia genre into the gangster genre was made clear within American Gangster through the literal turn over of power from the Italian American mafia to the black American gangster as Frank rise to power through drugs surpassing the past empires of the mafia. Not only is the transition of power and ways to obtain power new within the gangster genre but also the strong commentary on cops also being crooks in gangster genres, which is a stark contrast to past mafia movies where the police were seen as upstanding, rule following citizens. Within the new gangster genre, order has gotten out of control, as there is no longer a code of conduct, resulting in the corruption of everyone in the hopes of money and power.
Ridley Scott’s thriller/action film “American Gangster” tells the story of Frank Lucas, a heroin dealer who smuggles his drugs from Vietnam into New York during the 1970s. As his drug empire continues to rise, officer Richie Roberts and other rival gangs pose a challenge for Lucas. At the end of the film, Lucas is arrested by Roberts but is given a reduced sentence due to his willingness to cooperate with the police. Kenton Rambsy’s paper “Close-Up: Hip-Hop Cinema Jay Z’s American Gangster” talks about Jay Z’s album “American Gangster” in connection with Ridley Scott’s film. Strongly inspired by the film’s themes and plot, the album was greatly influenced by the movie. As stated by Rambsy, the album follows the film’s narrative in a three act structure – the Genesis, the Rise, and the Demise: the first act introducing characters and their motivations, the second building momentum to the climax, and the third detailing the consequences for the main character. I found the parallels between Jay Z’s album and the film’s three act structure particularly interesting and a very smart way of creatively tying the two together. In addition, I thought it was compelling how Jay Z oriented his own experiences with Frank Lucas’s. Through Rambsy’s use of the text mining technique, he was able to notice a lot of personal “I’m” statements as well as similes, successfully demonstrating how word choices can change the narration of a song or album. Rambsy’s paper shows how Jay Z’s album was more than just a musical arrangement, but that it was greatly shaped by Scott’s film and reflected Jay Z’s own personal experiences and was a key part of his artistic trajectory. While reading this paper I wondered if there were any other albums significantly influenced by films? This interplay between songs and film reminded me of Lenny Kravitz’s album “Strut,” which was fueled by his role in “The Hunger Games”.
For Mar 19th:
I thought that the reading was really interesting this time in that it focused on the impact of significant themes of the movie through music. It’s interesting to read how Jay-Z related to and was inspired by the movie in a way that I did not see when I saw the movie, making me realize how privileged I am. Through Jay-Z’s album, it was clear that he related to Lucas’s experience as his album explored themes of race, capitalism, and systemic oppression. In particular, his album highlights the struggles, ambition, and conflicts that Lucas had to go through, combining it with Jay-Z’s own hustling experience as he rose to fame from the streets. There was focus on the idea of how Lucas had to resort to extreme methods in order to become a self-made man through the American Dream. Jay-Z saw connections between Lucas and members of the Black community, where opportunities for success were limited, thus criticizing the nuance and implications of the American Dream. It was also interesting to read Rambsy’s analysis of how Jay-Z incorporated multiple film references in his album such as Scarface and The Godfather, as well as past hip hop artists such as Notorious B.I.G. to solidify his narrative. I had also previously noticed the common themes of oppression to “outsiders” and scarce opportunities for class mobility in the films. Hip hop genre as a whole gives raw and powerful beat drops, so the portrayal of these ideas feels more significant. Especially since music can be easier to listen to than watching a film, it probably helped spread awareness much more quickly.
Ridley Scott’s American Gangster (2007) tells the story Frank Lucas, the Harlem drug kingpin who reshaped the heroin trade. Played masterfully by Denzel Washington, Lucas defies the typical gangster mold by prioritizing strategy and discipline over reckless violence. His rise from a driver to the architect of a criminal empire is set against the story of Richie Roberts (Russell Crowe), an determined cop set on navigating the corruption within the NYPD. The film delves into balances of power and the murky moral overlap between law enforcement and crime.
What makes American Gangster particularly striking is its focus on a Black protagonist within a serious crime drama. Compared to many Black crime films I’ve seen—like Friday, which leans heavily on comedy—this film takes a much more serious approach to the way they decided to portray crime in a predominantly black area. It was refreshing to see a story that not only treats the subject matter with seriousness but also preserves the cultural and historical significance of Lucas’s journey.
Kenton Rambsy’s article, “Jay Z’s American Gangster,” explores how the film inspired Jay-Z to create a concept album that parallels Lucas’s rise with his own journey from Brooklyn’s Marcy Projects to rap icon. Rather than simply retelling Lucas’s story, Jay-Z uses the album to reflect on the gangster mindset and its broader cultural implications. Rambsy points out how Jay-Z’s lyrics center him in the narrative, reinforcing the idea that both crime and rap are about control, perception, and power. The article also sheds light on the relationship between hip-hop and Hollywood, where the gangster aesthetic fuels both industries in different ways.
One of the strongest connections between the film and Jay-Z’s album is the transformation of ambition into power. Both Lucas and Jay-Z carved out paths to the top by mastering their respective environments—one through heroin, the other through music. However, while American Gangster ultimately depicts Lucas’s downfall, Jay-Z’s narrative takes a victorious turn, repurposing struggles into a self-made success story.
Ridley Scott’s American Gangster was a very heavily packed movie that managed to not only take the ethnic tropes of the mafia genre and translate them into the lives of African Americans in late 20th century Harlem, but it also kept me entirely engaged throughout. There are a lot of similarities this film maintains with past mafia films we have seen, especially that of Goodfellas. Beyond the standard infiltration of the police system with cops engaging in theft, dishonesty, and other forms of corruption, I loved the callback post-credit scene of Lucas shooting the camera much like how Tommy’s character did the same. What was most interesting to me about this movie in relation to our past discussions, however, was how large an impact these films have on people. In previous lessons, we have seen how real-life mafia men modeled their behaviors after the criminals in these movies. In this week’s film and reading, we now see how even real-life artists are modeling their music and work based on these films, proving how great an influence this genre has on society as a whole. Jay Z in particular had a deep connection with the movie’s themes and its protagonist’s journey, crafting albums that use “personal pronouns and similes to create comparisons, thereby aligning his personal experiences with those of Harlem drug lord Frank Lucas”. Scott’s ability to cultivate a fascinating narrative based on a true story while still maintaining a representative culture that endured hardship is partly to thank for the film’s huge success with the audience; it also leads me to wonder how the mafia movie genre can be further manipulated to take into account other ethnicities and backgrounds, such as that of Asian Americans’ experience.
Ridley Scott’s “American Gangster” follows drug dealer Frank Lucas and police officer Richie Roberts in their journey throughout their careers. Frank gets involved in the heroin trade after his boss’s death, and Richie is tasked with bringing down major New York drug dealers. The film covers how they both carry out their responsibilities, culminating in them working together to take down corrupt officers in the NYPD and New York DEA, many of whom Frank has bribed during his time as a drug dealer. Richie eventually becomes a lawyer and defends Frank in his case, leading to a sentence of 70 years in prison with only 15 being served. In the Ramsby article, the part that stood out to me most was the reflection on the trends of the time that this film and album were released. Jay Z’s rapping career was winding down, but viewing the film American Gangster gave him the fuel to put out another rap album. During the process of producing American Gangster, Universal Pictures was also getting inspired by a rise in popularity of gangster and crime-related films. Cultural attitudes that pointed towards an interest in the gangster story led to the film and then subsequently the movie, where Jay Z took inspiration from both the film and from his life experiences.
I found it really interesting that Jay-Z drew inspiration from the film American Gangster, especially when so many of his career is dedicated to deconstructing and understanding the American identity. Incorporating a three act structure—Genesis, Rise, and Demise—into his own album was a particularly effective use of symbolism, demonstrating how the American dream can be different for so many people, yet unite them through prominent similarities.
The Italian mafia being used as a commentary on the American dream is not a new concept for this course, however, Jay-Z’s take on the issue is much different. From a film perspective, the characters that live the mafia lifestyle are living their version of the American dream. They see their illegal businesses as just businesses, their mafia families as their real families, and their success won through violence and extortion as success nonetheless.
Similarly, Jay-Z’s discography reference the American dream several times, oftentimes to critique false promises made to the Black community in the United States. He argues that systemic oppression and a lack of opportunities disillusioned him from this “dream.” To go even further, both mafia films and Jay-Z’s music are products themselves of the American dream, with inspired artists, whether they are filmmakers or music makers, using storytelling to spread their narratives.
American Gangster and the article both examine crime, capitalism, and power but through different lenses. One tells the story of an individual who masters the system only to be undone by its contradictions. The other reframes that narrative through hip-hop, emphasizing how these struggles persist across generations. Together, they expose the blurred line between economic ambition and criminality in America.
The film presents a version of the American Dream where success is achieved outside traditional structures. Its protagonist builds an empire through discipline and strategy, but his downfall reveals the limits of that success. While his rise follows the logic of capitalism by cutting out middlemen, ensuring quality, and maximizing profits, his eventual fate shows how certain figures are never truly allowed to win.
The article expands this by positioning hip-hop as a response to these systemic realities. It argues that hip-hop does not just reflect stories like American Gangster but reshapes them, linking past and present. The album it discusses is not just inspired by the film but reinvents it, highlighting the ways Black ambition is often criminalized.
By connecting these perspectives, American Gangster becomes more than a crime story. It is a commentary on the structures that define power, revealing how economic mobility is often dictated by factors beyond individual control. Hip-hop, as the article suggests, serves as both documentation and critique, offering a way to challenge these narratives rather than simply repeating them.
I thought American Gangster was a somewhat compelling take on the rise and fall of Frank Lucas who was a Harlem drug kingpin who built up his empire by cutting out the so-called “middleman” and instead just imported heroin directly from Southeast Asia. I feel like the film presents Lucas as both a ruthless criminal and a successful businessman which somewhat blurs the lines between corporate success and organized crime. What stood out to me the most was how the film framed Lucas’s rise as a challenge to both the Italian Mafia’s control over the heroin trade and the corruption within law enforcement, making his downfall feel somewhat inevitable. Also, I thought this film tied well into the reading from Kenton Rambsy’s Jay-Z’s American Gangster, where he talks about how Jay-Z’s album serves as both a personal reflection and an extension of the film’s themes in some ways. Rambsy highlights how Jay-Z uses first-person narration to show similarities between himself and Lucas which reinforces the idea of the self-made gangster. The reading also emphasized how Jay-Z’s album is structured into three acts—Genesis, Rise, and Demise—which mirrors the film’s storytelling. I thought this film also built on themes from previous movies we watched like Goodfellas and Casino. Like those films, American Gangster depicts crime as a structured business, but instead of an Italian-American perspective, it shifts focus to a Black gangster instead. However, I think what makes American Gangster stand out is how it tends to critique the American Dream. I felt like in The Godfather, crime was intertwined with family and tradition, but in this film, Lucas’s pursuit of power is purely capitalist. His empire is built on efficiency, not loyalty. This reminded me of how we discussed the evolution of Mafia films from mythologizing crime to deconstructing it. The film ultimately makes a strong case for how systemic corruption tends to enable figures like Lucas, showing that crime isn’t just about individuals but instead about the structures that allow them to thrive.
In the movie we once again see the blurred line of good and evil: there are bad cops and there are drug dealers with morals. Frank seems to live by a code just like the italian mafia men do, but instead of it being focused on family, it is focused on doing things the right way without being greedy. For example, Frank sells drugs that are significantly better quality for half the price. His justification is that that he gets enough with that price and taking any more is greedy. There is a stark contrast between him and other people in his business. He is an authentic person which is shown through his actions: doesn’t deceive people specifically with how concentrated the dope is and with his words: responding with his own name to the question “Who are you really” and saying “I don’t represent nothing but Frank Louis.”
In the beginning of the movie, if you disregarded the fact that his business was drugs, Frank would be considered a very moral and fair business man – a title not many businessmen hold. However, as the movie progresses Frank becomes more aggressive and angry. For example, shooting one of the men in a public place and beating up his own family for making the mistake of having dope in the car. He is still an intelligent businessman who cares about trademark infringement and the like, but he has more of a temper when people don’t prove to be as smart or capable as himself.
The article informed us that the songs in the album discuss the internal emotions of the drug dealer, but I wish they explained what specifically these songs were saying because I haven’t heard the album and I would like to know what these emotions are. I would also be curious to see if the album’s progression from Genesis, the Rise, and the Demise also portrayed a change in the protagonist like the movie did.
Watching American Gangster alongside reading Kenton Rambsy’s “Close-Up: Hip-Hop Cinema Jay Z’s American Gangster” made me think differently about the connections between film, music, and personal storytelling. The film presents Frank Lucas as a complex figure. At first, he seems like a businessman who values order and discipline, rather than just a violent criminal. He focuses on efficiency and cutting out unnecessary steps in the drug trade, which he justifies as a way to avoid greed. I found it interesting that Lucas imposes strict rules on himself and his family, like not drawing attention by flaunting wealth. However, over time, his control starts to unravel. Scenes like when he shoots a rival in broad daylight or violently lashes out at his cousin show how his temper and pride start to overtake his original code. I was struck by how his rise and fall follow the familiar arc of the American Dream corrupted by ambition and greed, something we have seen in other gangster films.
Rambsy’s article added another layer to my understanding of the film. I thought it was fascinating how Jay Z watched American Gangster and immediately connected it to his own life. Rambsy explains that Jay Z’s album is not just a retelling of Frank Lucas’s story but also a reflection of Jay Z’s experiences growing up and hustling in Brooklyn. I found the analysis of Jay Z’s word choices, especially his repeated use of “I’m,” really insightful. Rambsy shows how Jay Z positions himself as the central figure in his own narrative, even when inspired by someone else’s story. I also thought the discussion of how Jay Z structured the album into three acts—the Genesis, Rise, and Demise—parallels the structure of the film and gives the album a cinematic feel.
I really enjoyed this gangster movie, primarily because it presented an alternative narrative of what being a gangster is like. To start, the movie touches on Frank being a Black gangster, rather than an Italian gangster. Much of the dialogue surrounding his race is also prevalent and speaks to greater racial tensions in the U.S. during this time period. One specific scene where Frank’s race is explicitly discussed in the film is when Frank and Richie are talking after Frank’s arrest. Richie discusses how Frank represents progress which the white gangsters didn’t like. Therefore, they were willing to testify against Frank in order to reinstate a racial and social hierarchy which benefited the Italian gangsters. By intentionally presenting these conversations in the film, Scott takes a similar approach to Scorsese, in which he presents a prevalent social phenomenon through character dialogue. In the article “Close-Up: Hip-Hop Cinema Jay Z’s American Gangster” it is evident that Scott impactfully connects the movie to reality, as Jay Z found many parallels from American Gangster to his own upbringing. By utilizing the word “I’m” in his album, Jay Z impactfully connects himself to the narratives about Frank’s crime life. At one point the article went as far as to say that “Jay Z possessing more control over the music talent is akin to Lucas controlling the distribution of the heroin.” Jay Z’s album was able to give a backstory to Scott’s story, allowing viewers to resonate with the movie to a greater level. Overall, though I don’t believe I had a personal connection to the story, I do believe the culmination of music, stylistic film choices, characters, and plotline help create a gangster movie which resonates more with the audience than other films we’ve watched this semester. Frank seems like an average guy, which gives him more relatability and speaks more to people than a gangster who is intentionally over the top and is identifiable through his appearance and demeanor.
Scott’s 2007 American Gangster film is certainly unlike any other that we have watched up to this point in the course. (I now realize I say that with most of my blog posts, but I think that is more representative of the dynamics of the mafia genre and not my repetitive analyses!) American Gangster differentiates itself from genre classics like the Godfather franchise, Goodfellas, Scarface, etc. in two ways in my opinion: by depicting more of the behind-the-scenes development of the business and by having a primary focus on African American organized crime.
While I definitely give credit to Scott and the film for broadening the scope of the brand, I do have some main critiques. I think that the film poorly touches on some of the primary themes of the mafia genre, particularly the conflict between business and family. I felt that Frank’s family life was not emphasized much outside of his falling in love with Eva and the light interactions he has with family through the business. Additionally, I learned from searching around online that Richie did not actually have children at the time of him working the case, thus meaning the entire custody battle plotline was completely fabricated. I am curious about the intentional inclusion and intentional exclusion of family elements throughout the film; perhaps there is something I am missing from Scott’s intent. I point these items out because, for me, the struggle of the family is one of the most captivating elements of the plot in each mafia film, and I was not able to see as much of that in this film.
By focusing on Frank Lucas, a drug lord from Harlem whose orderly, corporate-style organization subverts the Italian-American predominance in organized crime movies, Ridley Scott’s 2007 film American Gangster reimagines the mafia story. Eliminating middlemen, guaranteeing product purity, and upholding discretion—a strategy that reflects the efficiency and market control of capitalism—are the keys to Lucas’s success. Like those in Scarface and The Godfather, he ultimately fails due to his own arrogance and pressure from the police.
Lucas follows a new code, one that prioritizes commerce over relatives, in contrast to conventional mafia movies that place an emphasis on family devotion. He places a higher priority on control and discipline and, in the interest of moral justice, refuses to overcharge for his goods. But his hostility and paranoia increase as his kingdom expands. Even the most strategic operators are eventually corrupted by power, as evidenced by his violent outbursts, which include publicly killing a rival and beating his own family members over thoughtless errors.
Hip-Hop Film: A Close-Up of Kenton Rambsy Jay-Z’s American Gangster demonstrates how the entrepreneurial spirit of hip-hop is used in Jay-Z’s concept album to retell Lucas’s story. Jay-Z frames Lucas as a representation of Black economic aspirations in a system that restricts legal wealth-building by equating drug selling with rap. His album reflects broader themes of triumph, extravagance, and downfall, mirroring the film’s rise-and-fall storyline. The classic mafia paradigm is complicated in American Gangster, which portrays organized crime as a mirror of racial barriers and a tool for emancipation.
Ridley Scott’s American Gangster stands out to me not only as a remarkable entry in the mafia movie genre but for offering a perspective rarely portrayed: the African American experience. The film follows Frank Lucas as he meticulously builds his drug empire, branding his product “Blue Magic” and rising to the top of Harlem’s criminal underworld. While it shares many thematic parallels with classic mafia films we’ve studied in class, what sets it apart is its cultural specificity and the lens through which it portrays organized crime.
This unique depiction is further amplified by the film’s sound design and soundtrack, reinforcing its atmosphere and narrative weight. Our readings this week highlight how the mafia genre has influenced music as well, with Jay-Z directly crediting this film as inspiration for one of his albums. That album mirrors Lucas’s rise and fall—his strategic takeover, his loyalty to his family, his dominance over rivals, and, ultimately, his downfall. The conclusion closely parallels Goodfellas, as Lucas, in an effort to reduce his sentence, turns informant against corrupt police officers. Despite securing his release, he emerges not as a transformed man but as a remnant of his past self.
Perhaps the film’s most poetic moment comes in its final act when Richie Roberts, Lucas’ relentless pursuer, ultimately becomes his defense attorney. The fact that American Gangster is rooted in real events only solidifies its place as a defining work in the mafia genre
I had expected the paper to describe only how the movie and album were similar, but I was intrigued by how they described the way they complement each other. They discuss how in most gangster films, the main figure is often portrayed as “stoic” and that they “hardly reveal themself”. I found this to be true for American Gangster as Frank is controlled and composed. However, it seems that Jay Z’s album provided that lack of depth and complexity, filling in the uncertainty about Frank’s feelings and motivations. I don’t know if this applies to all gangster films, as I felt characters like Michael Corleone made his feelings clear, however, I appreciate and understand what Jay Z was bringing to this movie specifically.
The article stated, “Washington saw American Gangster as an opportunity to take on what he saw as a more challenging and creative role.” I went back to this quote after finishing the paper because this is what I felt Jay Z was also experiencing. The paper repeatedly emphasizes how unique and uncommon his decision to create an entire album inspired by a film was. Perhaps the creative and challenging step that Washington and Jay Z both had to take for their American Gangsters is what made both so well appreciated and successful.
I found American Gangster to stand out among some of the films we’ve studied in this course, but it also carries many common treads of the general gangster genre. The film dives deep into the true cost of ambition, power, and the mechanics of Frank Lucas’ heroin empire in the Northeast. One of the most memorable sequences, the church scene intercut with the federal agents tearing apart Lucas’ operation while “Amazing Grace” plays, feels like a direct nod to The Godfather’s baptism montage. The juxtaposition of Lucas in a sacred space with the violent collapse of his empire underscores the hypocrisy at his core. He presents himself as disciplined and authentic, but beneath the surface, his moral compass is consistently compromised. He’s devout but corrupt, seemingly moral, but ruthless.
The article also touches on Jay-Z’s creative response to Lucas’ story. Just as Scott shows Lucas navigating a broken system, Jay-Z used his album to explore the internal conflict of someone who rises from the streets. His lyrics align with the film’s themes but also go further by giving voice to the mental turmoil that the film left unopened. Where Scott focused on Lucas’ public collapse, Jay-Z went into the psyche of the gangster figure: the loneliness, paranoia, and burden of success. together, the movie and album paint a full picture of a man trapped between extreme power and collapse.
I think American Gangster was a great shift in tone from the previous films. It did a few things different in comparison to previous movies that made it stand out to me. First, the protagonist perspective coming from an African American gangster is something that we hadn’t seen yet. The lens not coming from the Italian American side changes the way we view the film because that’s all we’ve seen so far. With that, this story also stood out because of the individual focus on Frank more so than an organization or family like in previous films. While we get context for Frank’s business, the story felt centered around him and the cop that was after him. This conflict really carried the plot well and was a good choice on how to effectively tell this story. This film also focused on a wider scale drug operation that reached around the world, instead of the more local and family run businesses that we’ve seen previously.
To briefly touch on the article as well, I thought it was a good commentary on how Jay Z used the film as a way to tell his own stories with similar themes. The idea of building your own success in a broken world is something mirrored between the two and it was a really creative choice by Jay Z to run with the film and turn it into something else as well.
This film taught me that it truly does not matter if you are Italian or Black or anything else, the money will always be something that connects all of us. I found it incredibly interesting how Frank realized that there was an opportunity to be making a lot of money and he set his business up in a way to be the most profitable and successful as possible. The way he accomplished this was through methods that were very similar to the American Mafia. There were many hints in the movie that made the audience recall mafia movies of the past to strengthen the connection between the traditional mafia and Frank’s business. The entire plot was very reminiscent of early mafia films where the main character starts at the bottom and increasingly gains confidence and influence, but by the end of the movie reaches their downfall and ends up in a similar place to where they started. At first Frank wanted to be as low key as possible in the public light to make sure that he was not easily picked out of a crowd, but as he gained success he took more risks such as wearing the fancy coat to the fight. Of course family and religion played a big part in the film as well which is extremely common in mafia movies. Another small element in the film that I noticed was that at the fight when the detective was taking pictures of Frank, the director added in gun shot sound effects. The symbolism of a camera being similar to a gun was used very often in mafia movies and this is what I believe the director wanted to portray in this scene.
Scott made a deliberate effort to root the film American Gangster in the authentic look and feel of the 1970s, using natural lighting and a muted color palette to mirror the visual style of classic crime films. Instead of the exaggerated neon-soaked visuals often associated with gangster films, American Gangster presents Harlem and New York’s criminal underworld in a way that feels raw, understated, and immersive. Everything from the costume design to the locations was carefully crafted to enhance realism, making the film feel like a historical document as much as a Hollywood drama.
American Gangster also explores the complex parallel between Frank Lucas and Richie Roberts, the detective played by Russell Crowe. Though they exist on opposite sides of the law, both men share striking similarities. They are isolated, disciplined, and unwilling to compromise their principles, even if it means making enemies. Lucas builds his empire with ruthless efficiency, emphasizing family loyalty and business acumen, while Roberts refuses to take bribes in a deeply corrupt police system, alienating himself from his colleagues. Their eventual confrontation isn’t just about crime and justice, but instead it’s about two men who operate under strict codes of conduct in worlds where few others do. It feels like a movie (much like the others we’ve seen) with power, morality, and the blurred lines between success and destruction.
American Gangster presents a counterpoint to the traditional Italian mafia narratives that have long dominated the crime film genre. While classics like The Godfather and Goodfellas depict the rigid, hierarchical structures of Italian-American crime families, American Gangster shifts the focus to organized crime in 1970s Harlem, centering on Frank Lucas who challenges the mafia’s dominance.
One of the film’s most striking contrasts with Italian mafia movies is its portrayal of power and independence. In films like The Godfather, power is inherited and deeply tied to family and tradition. Lucas, in contrast, rises through ingenuity, bypassing the mafia’s middlemen and securing direct drug shipments from Southeast Asia. His story challenges the notion that organized crime must be structured around old-world traditions, proving that new, innovative players can disrupt the status quo.
Yet, despite their differences, American Gangster and Italian mafia films share key themes: loyalty, betrayal, and the eventual downfall of those who rise too high. Like Michael Corleone in The Godfather, Lucas’s success ultimately isolates him. His business model, built on discretion, is undermined by his own ego, particularly when he wears a flamboyant chinchilla coat to a boxing match—drawing the attention of detective Richie Roberts. This mirrors how hubris often dooms protagonists in Italian mafia films, where flashy displays of wealth invite law enforcement scrutiny.
Ultimately, American Gangster redefines the crime saga, proving that the mafia is not the only force shaping America’s underworld. The film expands the genre’s scope, showing that the rules of organized crime are constantly evolving—even if its downfalls remain the same.
Many of the films we have covered throughout this class have touched on either the Italian perspective on gangsters or on Hollywood’s perception of Italian gangsters through portrayals of the Mafia. In “American Gangster,” we see how Jay-Z’s album by the film’s namesake reimagines the gangster archetypes entrenched in cinematic history. Traditionally, mafia films–as we have seen throughout this class–romanticize the rise and fall of antiheroes through a lens of power, loyalty, and moral decay. “American Gangster” subverts this by centering Frank Lucas, a Black drug lord whose real-life story disrupts the Eurocentric gangster canon. Similarly, Jay-Z’s album reappropriates the genre’s tropes, not just to glorify criminality, but to interrogate its psychological weight. Jay-Z’s spike in the use of “I’m” throughout his album “American Gangster” also serves to express the parallels between the film to his upbringing.
The film’s portrayal of Lucas echoes the architecture of the gangster drama but combines that with racial struggle. We can see this clearly on “Pray,” where Jay-Z raps, “I’m cut from the cloth of the Kennedys,” a line that underscores Lucas’s struggle with mythologized white dynasties–a struggle that Jay-Z experiences as well. One question I have is to what extent was this media’s message directly driven by the cross-media collaboration with Jay-Z, and how did it serve to redefine the narrator of the gangster mythos.
I thought it was interesting how American Gangster breaks the standard Italian mafia stereotype by having Frank Lucas as an African American gangster. Particularly, I thought it was interesting how when the Detective is describing Lucas to his team, he talks about how he learned from the Italians and how he adopted their business model but ultimately outperformed them. This moment highlights how Lucas strategically positioned himself within the existing power structures of organized crime while simultaneously disrupting them.
One thing about the cinematography of this film that stood out to me was that it looked like there was a filter, changing the color of the film. I don’t know exactly what the term to describe this is, but I think it contributed to the overall atmosphere of the film. The muted, almost sepia-toned color grading gave the film a documentary-like aesthetic. I think this color treatment helps immerse the audience in the time period and make it feel as though we are watching real events.
Lastly, it was interesting to read the paper on how the film inspired Jay Z to create an album with the same title. Beyond simply gaining inspiration, Jay-Z used the film as a framework to craft a concept album that paralleled both Lucas’s rise and fall and his own experiences. It was fascinating to see such an explicit link between Hollywood and Hip Hop.
American Gangster honestly made me sad. Even the dark, yellowish lighting throughout the entire film made it hard to watch without feeling ill. It was disturbing to see people profiting off an industry designed to kill—not just poor people in poverty-stricken neighborhoods in the U.S., but also American troops in a war that the majority of citizens opposed. Watching people exploit national struggle for personal gain was gross.
The racial element of this film adds another layer of nuance. The montage of drugs being sold exclusively to people of color by the hands of people of color was tough to watch. On the other hand, the scene in which Frank brings his entire family to their new home—a mansion that literally looks like the White House—gives viewers a weird sense of respect for his accomplishment. This contrast was intentional.
Unlike the vibrancy and thrill of Scorsese-style mafia films, American Gangster felt muted and methodical, which I think directly correlated to the general detest I felt for many of the characters. Everything about Richie and his fellow cops was repulsive—from their gross demeanor while dancing in clubs to covering up fellow cops’ murders—yet they are supposed to be the good guys? At least Frank maintained poise and eloquence throughout the beginning of the film, never lacking in decorum.
To watch Richie embark on a supposed journey for justice by stopping Frank—only for Frank to expose corrupt cops for a reduced sentence—felt like a sick joke. Richie himself is a corrupt cop.
Overall, this was a great film that really made me think. But because it lacked the usual excitement of mafia films, I felt completely disconnected from the characters and generally disheartened by the outcome.
P.S: I could not access the link to the reading and when I tried to search it online, I was not given access even with the Duke Login, not sure if anyone else had this issue?
Watching American Gangster alongside reading Kenton Rambsy’s analysis of Jay-Z’s American Gangster album deepened my appreciation for how stories evolve across mediums. The film presents Frank Lucas as more than just a criminal—he operates like a disciplined businessman, enforcing efficiency and discretion in his empire. His strict rules, like avoiding flashy displays of wealth, initially seem like strategies for long-term success. Yet, his downfall is inevitable. His control erodes as ego takes over, mirroring the classic gangster arc where ambition eventually breeds self-destruction.
Beyond the film, American Gangster sparked an artistic response in hip-hop. As Kenton Rambsy’s article details, Jay-Z’s concept album of the same name mirrors both Lucas’s rise and his own. His use of first-person storytelling places him in the center of a similar journey—from street hustler to mogul—demonstrating how gangster narratives transcend mediums. The album serves as a lyrical companion to the film, offering a deeper look into the mindset of those who navigate power, risk, and survival.
Ultimately, American Gangster expands the crime genre, proving that the American underworld isn’t just ruled by one archetype. Whether in film or music, the rules of power are always evolving—yet the price of ambition remains the same.
“American Gangster” accepts and exemplifies the thematic concept of family in a way that virtually mirrors that of “The Godfather.” However, one thing particularly striking about this film is its ability to adapt not just the theme of family, but other traditional mafia-genre themes as well, to its specific context. For example, this film makes a concerted effort to provide commentary on the American Dream, much like many other mafia movies we’ve watched previously.
One thing that stood out to me in this film is that, after using the money he makes from peddling drugs, Frank moves his family from the South (North Carolina) to the North (New York)—which I saw as a play on the journey toward freedom for Black people looking to escape racism, thereby adding a layer to the critique of the American Dream that we see in other mafia films by recontextualizing it from the perspective of Black Americans.
Additionally, this movie furthers the exposé of American political corruption and its interplay with organized crime in the context of the war on drugs and, more subtly, in the context of the Vietnam War. Frank organizes his drug trafficking like a legitimate business, which is made apparent when he confronts Nicky about “copyright” and “branding”—a very explicit critique of American capitalism and the rather weak facade of legality and fairness that is used to shield ruthless and pernicious business practices.
One cinematic method that I noticed in this film was the use of wide shots, which left me uncertain whether they were meant to show Frank as a cog in a large machine (similar to “Il Mafioso”) or to illustrate his means of blending in and his aversion to materialism, which he expressed when confronting his brother about his suit.
Ridley Scott’s American Gangster challenges the conventions of traditional gangster films by presenting a more complex portrayal of crime, morality, and systemic corruption. Unlike classic gangster films that glorify the rise and fall of criminals, American Gangster presents Frank Lucas as a self-made businessman whose criminal empire is built on discipline rather than excess. This separation from the stereotypical gangster film which often romanticizes its protagonists adds more realism to the narrative.
Kenton’s analysis of gangster films highlights their historical and cultural significance and shows how American Gangster shifts the paradigm by focusing on an African American protagonist who operates outside the Italian-dominated crime world. Jay-Z’s album American Gangster serves as an artistic response that bridges hip-hop culture and gangster cinema. Kenton’s discussion of rap’s role in reinterpreting crime narratives is relevant as Jay-Z uses the film’s themes to reflect on his own journey and equates the disciplined rise of Frank Lucas with the entrepreneurial hustle of hip-hop artists. Through this fusion, American Gangster extends its influence beyond film and impacts music while reinforcing the cultural dialogue between crime, success, and systemic barriers.
Through its departure from genre norms and its artistic reinterpretation, American Gangster redefines what a gangster film can be and offers a socially conscious narrative that resonates beyond crime and violence.
For class on 3/19:
I was very interested in the connections between the film American Gangster and the analysis of Jay-Z’s album titled American Gangster by Rambsy. To start, the film takes us through the story of Frank Lucas who deviates from the traditional mafia character. The film gives race a major role and displays the struggle for those such as African-Americans. The theme of finding a new path to take on the system is very clear in this film, and this remains consistent as Lucas builds his empire in the film. Similar to other mafia films, though, violence, corruption, and related destruction to communities still exists in American Gangster.
Moving to Rambsy’s analysis, it was cool to learn why Jay-Z titled his album American Gangster as well. The rise of Lucas in the film was used as inspiration and a supposed parallel to Jay-Z’s personal rise in music. This relationship further reflects the struggle for self-made success and how personal control is needed to take on the system. Jay-Z’s personal connections in this album also demonstrate the struggles shown in the film, as Jay-Z tells of his own journey to make it beyond the “streets” and the ambition and survival skills needed.
Being able to connect hip hop to a mafia film is not a very common connection, but the storytelling in both of these pieces revolving around black men attempting to gain influence in worlds/spaces that are hard to attain in our society is a super important piece. This was very meaningful to me, and it shifted my perception of the influence that mafia movies could have due to this differing style.
Ridley Scott’s use of impressive stylistic and thematic techniques tells the story of the rise of a black businessman “who represents progress” and highlights the growing corruption of the police force. Overall, I really enjoyed the film and was impressed by the intricate sequences that employ a variety of camera movements and angles; it seems as though the auteur theory we discussed in class could also apply here. Music, as emphasized in the essay, also plays a significant role, and it was interesting to read how Jay-Z was able to identify with Frank Lucas when writing music for his album. The film is relevant to our ongoing discussion regarding the crisis of the mafia movie but shifts the narrative to tell the story of an African American gangster rather than another Italian mafioso, and these differences are addressed in the film. Frank operates independently by cutting out the middle man, importing his product from Vietnam, creating a fortune by selling it at an affordable price to the masses. We are reminded of how Frank’s lavish lifestyle is made possible in the Thanksgiving sequence, where brightly lit shots of celebration are juxtaposed with grim, dark images of the customers and victims of his empire. The family scene contrasts with Richie’s lonely life as a detective and serves as an interesting point of comparison between his character and Donnie Brasco. Whereas in the previous film, the detective begins to embody the values of a mafioso, American Gangster portrays a detective who remains committed to his morals at work but struggles within his family dynamic.
American Gangster (2007) is based on Frank Lucas’ heroin empire in the late 1960s and early 1970s. The film follows a moral detective Richie Roberts as he operates within the corrupt police force, working to bring Lucas down. Roberts eventually uncovers Lucas’ heroin imports from Vietnam and arrests him. To avoid life in prison, Lucas cooperates with authorities, offering critical evidence against corrupt NYPD officers and members of the Italian Mafia. Kenton Rambsy’s Close-Up: Hip-Hop Cinema: Jay Z’s American Gangster explores how Jay Z’s American Gangster album was heavily inspired by Ridley Scott’s 2007 film. The article mentions that gangster films have long served as inspiration for rap songs, however, not many are such a direct musical parallel to a film’s narrative. Jay Z resonated with Frank Lucas’ character, seeing reflections of his own journey–Lucas’ rise and control over the heroin trade mirroring Jay Z’s dominance in the music industry. Rambsy’s analysis of Jay Z’s word choice throughout his albums, highlights how Jay Z consistently positions himself as the protagonist, blending autobiography, allusions, and fictional storytelling. This is no different in his American Gangster album. Throughout producing the album, Jay Z creativity blurs the lines between the music and the cinema. The album follows a three-part structure which mimics the film’s structure. The album opens with “Act 1: Genesis,” introducing the protagonist, exploring their motivations and struggles. Following, “Act 2: The Rise,” accounts the character’s success, reflecting Lucas’ peak in the film. “Act 3: The Demise,” depicts the fall from power which echoes Lucas’ arrest and conviction. Jay Z’s album was praised for his concept, mastering this ability to blend film, music, and autobiography. Jay Z offers a nuanced interpretation of the gangster depiction, adding emotional depth to humanize the gangster figure in ways films rarely do.
We frequently discuss how gangster films reflect the zeitgeist, but this article made me consider their role in shaping it–not just mirroring the cultural narratives but actively influencing pop culture across mediums.
For March 24th Class: Scarface (1983) is the famous story that follows the rise and fall of Tony Montana, who becomes one of the most famous drug lords after moving to Miami after his part in the assassination of a Cuban government official. The film explores themes of greed and self-destruction as Tony’s relentless pursuit of wealth and power are what eventually lead to his downfall. Bogue’s article brings to light and showcases how Montana’s rise to power isn’t a conventional story of class mobility, but rather a simulation of success, where things like power and money function in a detached, self-referential system. One of the most interesting things to me in both the movie and the reading was the use of cocaine as a metaphor. Bogue argues that cocaine isn’t simply a product that Montana sells, but a representation of capitalism itself. In the film, the cocaine is represented as limitless, instantly transforming into cash. One of the key and defining characteristics of cocaine is its ability to never fully satisfy. It only fuels the desire to want more and more. This is a parallel to the way Montana lives his life; he constantly wants more; more money, more power, more women. His mantra, “The world is yours,” is yet another example of that desire to want more and more because his mantra encapsulates his unchecked capitalist dream where accumulation has no endpoint and finish line. The cocaine, while it seems to empower Tony, it also makes him delusional and traps him in this endless cycle of violence and consumption. All in all, in Scarface, cocaine isn’t just used as a plot device, it’s used as a metaphor for unlimited desire, unchecked capitalism, and the illusion of power. Tony Montana embodies this, where more is never enough, and the pursuit of power and heavy greed lead to self-destruction. The film’s excess (violence, money, drug use) is part of its critique. De Palma presents an exaggerated world to reflect the reality of a system driven by addiction, whether to drugs or to capital. The question that both the movie and reading leave me with is: How much is enough? How do you know when it’s the right time to stop before everything you’ve worked for goes down the drain?
We see a large number of common mafia movie tropes in Scarface in both the themes and the stylistic filming of those themes. Has the genre exhausted itself and is now just using old pieces as it fits together a new puzzle for a movie. While Scarface, based on the 1932 movie Scarface directed by Howard Hawks and written by Ben Hect, to whom this movie is dedicated, is modernized to show crime in Miami instead of Chicago and uses Cuban immigrants instead of Italian immigrants, you find many similarities with the original and other gangster movies of that time period. You also see some similarities with scenes from the Godfather 1 & 2 and some scenes that will appear or could be the basis for scenes in later movies like the Untouchables, also by De Palma, and the Godfather 3.
• Intro – crawl text, titles, panning shots from above in the harbor in Mariel and as they land and are housed in Miami, immigration w/some criminals, Tony being a young wise-ass when questioned by border patrol
• Freedom town – sets up the poverty/discrimination & environment which forces them into crime to get out by doing assassination
• The issues of coming up poor and trying to attain class and showing Tony as uncouth and proving that you can’t buy “class”: At Sosa’s – after lunch Tony and Omar are given finger bowls with a lemon in them to wash their hands but Tony is unaware of this custom and eats the lemon; clothes as a symbol of class as when Tony meets Frank he’s wearing a new suit but Frank still says he’s going to buy him some new clothes; Omar talking to Frank and remarking about Tony “he’s a fucking peasant”; Elvira commenting on the garish car when Tony picks her up and says later that “I don’t fuck around with the help”. Elvira says at the club that “excess is success.”
• Frank having rules: “don’t underestimate the other guy’s greed,” which Franks break and leads to his downfall as he underestimates Tony; and “don’t do the product” which Tony breaks which leads to his downfall.
• As in the original we see the phrase “World is yours” – billboard in original, but on a blimp and on the statue in Tony’s house.
• The original and earlier mafia movie movies have the prohibition of alcohol as the catalyst for entrepreneurial crime, here we have the prohibition of drugs, through the beginning of the drug trade is what starts the war in Godfather 1.
• As in the Godfather and later in Casino, the main character is struck by “the thunderbolt”: Tony when he sees Elvira, Michael when he sees Apollonia (Godfather 1), Lefty when he sees Ginger (Casino).
• Lots of long take panning shots, in the beginning as mentioned above; along with crane shots from high to low the assassination in Freedom town which De Palma uses again in the Untouchables; and then a crane shot from low to high when Tony is in the opulent tub.
• Like the original, Tony’s mother doesn’t like what he grew up to be
• Tony speaking out of turn about a drug deal with Sosa got Omar killed – just like Sonny speaking out with Sollozzo caused Don Vito to be shot like sonny protective of sister
• Frank talks old style mafia – guys who last are low-key and not flashy
• Club scenes where everyone knows Tony once he’s made it
• The people who have attained success the more normal way, the Pezzonovante, are seen as having power over the immigrants: corrupt cops, corrupt bankers, etc.
• The first hit attempt on Tony at the club with lots of fancy decorations and glass and lights could be the genesis of the idea that Coppola used for the hit scene on Michael where Joey Zaza tries to assassinate him and the other Dons in the penthouse in Godfather 3. The action, both Tony and Michael running hunched down to escape, lights and glass crashing to the ground are all very similar.
• As in real life and later in the Untouchables, it’s unpaid taxes and the IRS which become the basis of the charges against Tony
• Elvira as a wife sometimes acts like Kay in the Godfather – doesn’t want to have a kid with Tony and bring the child into that world and eventually leaves when the violence gets to be too much.
• Also, like Kay, Tony’s mother says “everything you touch you destroy.”
• As in the original, Tony has an extreme protectiveness and jealousy for his sister. It was hinted in the original that those feelings might go too far but here it’s blatant as Gina tries to mockingly seduce Tony while shooting at him after Tony kills her new husband Manny. This also mirrors Sonny attacking Connies’ husband and later on Michael having him killed.
• Michael kills his “brother” Fredo much like Tony kills Manny who is his defacto brother
• At the end of the credits, there’s a text statement that the film and its portrayal is not representative of all Cuban-Americans. Interesting that it was after the credits at the end of the movie because I doubt many people will have seen it. But it does hark back to the gangster movies of the 30’s where those statements were also made in gangster movies.
• And just an interesting point, Frank wears a necklace with a the Jewish “chai” symbol on it. He also uses as Jewish idiom of pig when he points out to Tony “El gordo” in the club.
Scarface (1983) follows the rise of Tony Montana from a low class Cuban immigrant to an immensely wealthy drug lord in Miami. Like the original Scarface, the main character’s reign ends when he is murdered, unlike the true story of Al Capone. Another similarity is the way that Montana murders his best friend for his recent marriage to his sister, which Camonte also does right before his death. Montana’s end had a very Gatsby quality, in my opinion, with him being shot and falling into the pool. Similar to the Great Gatsby, this allusion could be commenting on the erosion of the American Dream. The stylistic choices of the movie reminded me of Casino, with the saturated colors and the drug use. Elvira’s character to me, seemed very similar to Ginger from Casino, as well, filling the cliche of the blonde American trophy wife who becomes addicted to her husband’s drugs and money.
One thing from the reading which I found particularly interesting is how the plot mirrors the effects of cocaine addiction. We see Tony become more aggressive toward Elvira as his sexual desire for her is replaced by his desire for drugs, for example. Similarly, his insatiable drive for more money and power mimics the way cocaine stimulates the desire centers of the brain. This greed ultimately is what leads to Montana’s downfall, even before his death, with the tax evasion charges being brought against him.
Brian De Palma’s “Scarface” (1983) is a uniquely violent portrayal of the “American Dream” gone wrong. The film opens during a real historical moment that my family has a direct connection to. My grandma grew up in Miami Beach and remembers when the Marielitos arrived from Cuba in 1980. She was already an adult, so she mostly saw and heard how it impacted her family and neighborhood from afar. That made the opening scenes of the film all the more powerful. I know the Mariel boatlift brought over 100,000 Cubans to Miami in a short time, reshaping both the city’s culture and economy. The film shows that change as a chaotic event, casting the new immigrants as criminals and threats. The movie opens with real footage of the Mariel arrivals, but quickly shifts into a fictional story about Tony Montana, who rises to power through violence and drugs. With my grandma’s perspective in mind, it’s striking how “Scarface” turns a real historical event into a spectacle. It made me think about how movies can distort public perception. Ronald Bogue’s essay helps explain this. He argues that Tony doesn’t chase a real version of the American Dream, but a fake, media-driven image of success. Using Baudrillard’s idea of the “simulacrum,” Bogue shows how Tony’s world is all surface—cocaine, flashy clothes, big houses—without substance. In the film, cocaine is like capital: addictive, excessive, and detached from real work or value. “Scarface” doesn’t really show Miami or its immigrant communities. It shows a fantasy of power and wealth shaped by pop culture.
I found it particularly interesting that Scarface resembles so many qualities of a mafia movie, yet it does not reference the classic Italian mafia. Even in American Gangster, though Frank is not Italian, the police make a comment about how “[Frank] learned from the Italians.” It’s interesting to see how, at this point in our class, we have seen a similar narrative play out in different ethnic enclaves.
As we are soon going to talk about the role of women in mafia films, I found myself thinking about the women in this film. I thought it was interesting how the film uses Tony’s relationship with the women in his life to show us different aspects of his character. Particularly, Tony’s relationships with his sister and with Elvira can be viewed as highlighting an underlying desire rather than a genuine connection. In terms of Elvira, he seems to want her more as a symbol of his success rather than for love. He treats her as a “trophy” of his wealth and power. As for his sister, Tony’s relationship with Gina can be viewed as a symbol of his desire to protect something innocent and untouched by the corrupt world he inhabits.
While watching Scarface, one thing that I found to be particularly interesting was the linear and inverse relationships among various symbolic depictions throughout the film and Tony’s wealth and success. As Tony became more successful, his consumption and houses became more extravagant and colorful. As his success increased, so did his cocaine possession and use, as well as his paranoia. Conversely, as he became more successful, his relationships with his friends and family declined. So too did his mental state, seen through not only his increasing outbursts but also through his declining posture and widening eyes over the course of the film. All of these features, either increasing or decreasing to extremes, demonstrate the consequences of Tony’s choices. As the article suggested, these features of the film aid the larger critique of postmodern capitalism and overconsumption. Despite Tony seemingly getting everything material that he wanted, he loses himself and everyone else important to him in the process. The chaos in Tony’s life builds over the course of the film, anticipating the final scene where it all blows up in a violent mess. You can feel Tony’s death coming when the crescendo of lavishness hits its peak in the final scenes, amplified by the red-carpeted mansion and the mountain of cocaine on Tony’s desk. Contrary to his peaked success, he loses his sister after just killing his business partner and friend. These extremes work together to amplify the anticipation of Tony’s death and to impose his growing anxiety on the audience.
I was fairly satisfied with the 1983 Scarface remake for several reasons. Overall, I think DePalma actually does a good job with some stylistic and directorial choices, and I do think it especially fits the mold of the mafia movie that we have been discussing (an ambitious protagonist and their pursuit and subsequent perversion of the American Dream through organized crime…). Additionally, I think Pacino did a really good job of portraying the kind of character that Tony Montana was – the immigration interrogation in particular was one of my favorite scenes in the film.
I was honestly a bit apprehensive prior to watching because it was yet another Pacino-centric work (I do wonder if the casting ever gets too repetitive to a point: Pacino, De Niro, Pesci, etc.), but his acting was impeccable. If I were to add criticism, it would be about his Cuban accent, which bothered me for almost the entire movie. I can understand that this kind of dialogue coaching may be difficult, but I feel like it was too forced and Pacino just very much missed the mark with it.
I am generally a skeptic about remakes and usually despise them just because they are rarely anywhere near as enjoyable as the original, but I really feel that DePalma’s Scarface was different enough in style to the point where it was both enjoyable and still hit all the same thematic elements that the original was emphasizing. Certain stylistic choices and some alterations to the plot even added to the mafia-esque storyline: for example, cocaine was more of a central subject in this film instead of a means to a business end like alcohol was in the 1932 version, which I think was interesting and which was noted in the Bogue essay. He states, “[C]apital is also like cocaine, an amalgam of power, consumption pleasure and insatiable desire” (Bogue 124). That kind of perspective made me appreciate some of the differences between the 1932 and 1983 versions more, as DePalma attempted to keep the derivative film different enough so that it would still sell.
After watching the original Scarface (1932) earlier in the semester, it’s impossible not to notice the many clear callbacks to this movie that De Palma included in his remake. To me, Scarface (1983) seems like all of the elements that make Scarface (1932) a mafia movie to the most extreme extent you could imagine. This includes elements like the classic mob boss mansion scene, where Tony sees the lifestyle of Frank (and Frank’s girl at the time, Elvira) and decides that that is what he wants. Furthermore, the character of Elvira is similar to Poppy in the original film. We also have a similar relationship between Tony and his sister, Gina, as the relationship between Tony and Cecsa. Somehow the incestual tone that the audience senses at the beginning of the movie (and that which is seen in Scarface 1932) is made abundantly clear by the end of the film in the last scene before Gina is killed. The film ends with Tony getting shot in the back and falling into an indoor fountain that contains a version of the same “world is yours” globe that we see in Scarface (1932). Between the length of the film, the repetition and exaggeration of the original plotlines, and the extremism in all aspects of the film, I think Scarface (1982) seems to represent the epitome of an exhaustion of the classic ‘rise and fall of the gangster’ storyline in gangster movies. Similar to what De Palma does in Untouchables (1987), Scarface seems to play into many common tropes of this storyline.
I also found it interesting that De Palma dealt with a sort of censorship battle of his own when the Motion Picture Association of America wanted to give the film an X rating. I read a bit about it in this article: https://english.elpais.com/culture/2024-01-10/gruesome-misogynistic-racist-and-nihilistic-scarface-the-film-that-took-40-years-to-become-a-classic.html which suggests that De Palma might have wanted to create a bit of a scandal by appealing the X rating.
I’ve developed a fascination with the impact of family members who are and are not cued into the mafia world. To some degree, the sudden influx of wealth, suspicious nighttime activities, and infrequent visits home should signal red flags to anyone closely enough involved in a gangster’s life. As with Karen Good Fellas, family members sometimes embrace it and revel in their newfound wealth. Other times, family members are oddly unaware, like Mrs. DeVito in Good Fellas. And sometimes, family members are highly disapproving, as with Mama Montana in Scarface.
The role of the disapproving mother is rarely more than words, however, and is merely a prop to show that the gangster life will always be short-lived. I cannot think of an instance of a film we’ve watched where a mother’s disapproval of the mafia life was enough to cause any son to leave the mafioso. This trope is fascinating because the maternal figure is in stark contrast to the feminine trophy wives that mafia men cling to as signs of power and success. What is the purpose of a mother in mafioso films, then? I believe that it’s two-fold. On the one hand, it demonstrates the importance of family ties to mafia families. Secondly, it shows how unnatural the world of the mafia is and how desperate for approval mafioso men are. Despite spending a day hacking off someone’s arm and sawing someone’s face, there remains a maternal figure many mafia men return home to in hopes of pleasing them and providing for their families. While this is an oversimplification, the crux remains: when all is said and done, these men blindly searching for power often desperately seek approval, whether from a mother, a girlfriend, or a mafioso family. As in Scarface, a mother frequently refuses to offer that to them, further emboldening their power trip.
I appreciated this remake of Scarface a lot, primarily because it presented a postmodern metaphor of capitalist America. One scene in particular that I observed and am glad the article also brought forth is when Tony breaks Frank’s rule to not get high on your own supply of cocaine. The article looks at this from the standpoint of cocaine as capital and capital as cocaine, but I see it more through the American capitalist trend that people are never satisfied with what they have and always want more. I also felt this way when Tony killed Frank. Though Frank had offered a significant amount of money to spare his life, Tony still had him killed because he wasn’t looking for money in this point of his career, but instead was enthralled by the opportunity of being the top man and gaining power. These scenes both play into Baudrillard’s belief that we live in a time period of simulation and the hyperreal and that everything can be a commodity (even power). Though the article mentions this is the first remake in the genre, it is a bit hard to believe given all the movies repeat similar themes, making them all seem like a remake of previous movies. For example, this film repeated the theme of the American dream for immigrants, personified through the pretty white woman (Elvira). It also discussed deeper real life trends about immigrant stereotyping through a dialogue between Tony and his mother. The only scene I truly feel replicates the original rather than a play on gangster films more generally is the iconic finale scene where Gina walks and indicates that Tony wants her. The remake of Scarface makes it clear that Tony wants Gina as she walks in with her bathrobe, whereas the original only makes it clear after Gina is dead. In the original, I remember wondering why Tony was spending so much time on the floor with Gina who was dying/dead when there were people outside actively shooting at him. However, in the remake, Tony spends minimal time on reflecting on her death and the scene is more so focused on violence and saving himself/his image (which is very obvious through the iconic “say hello to my little friend” before firing endlessly at anyone in his path). The original shows that Tony had literally lost everything when Gina died whereas the remake almost shows a slight hope of Tony keeping his reputation through fighting back, proving that he hadn’t lost everything until he was dead.
Brian De Palma’s Postmodern Scarface continues our conversation about the crisis of the Mafia movie, as highlighted in Bogue’s essay, by drawing inspiration from previous films to tell the excessive story of Tony Montana. This film adopts motifs from the 1932 Scarface but focuses on cocaine’s role in 1980s Miami. Both Tony Camonte and Tony Montana make a fortune through illegal activities, and their fascination with excess offers a critique of society. Additionally, similar to Muni’s use of an exaggerated Italian accent, Al Pacino takes on an over-the-top Cuban accent, but in De Palma’s version, this stereotype is explicitly challenged, with several characters criticizing Tony for making Cubans look bad. Establishing city shots of Chicago are replaced by Miami’s vibrant, excessive atmosphere. I appreciated how the overall Mise en Scène heightens this ambiance, with lighting and color playing significant roles in creating an intentional tone for the film. The weird, jealous sibling storyline returns with Tony’s strange obsession with his sister, and interestingly, Gina’s dialogue in the final scene exposes this dynamic before her violent death. De Palma highlights these moments of jealousy through extreme slow-motion close-up shots of Tony’s eyes set against a sudden thriller-like sound, serving as another example of how the mafia film combines different film genres. Al Pacino’s performance is especially noteworthy, embodying the mantra “the World Is Yours” and “push it to the limit,” taking every opportunity to make it to the top. Yet, even at the top, he feels he can’t trust anyone. From the beginning, we see Tony’s ambitious, relentless attitude, with power at the forefront of his life goals. His perception of success is revealed through his conversation with Manny, where he asserts that power is necessary to attract women. But at the end of the film, we learn that this type of power is destructive and leads Tony to his death.
The biggest difference between *Scarface* and the other movies we’ve looked at, like *Goodfellas* and *Donnie Brasco*, is how over-the-top it is. While those films feel more grounded and realistic, *Scarface* is all about excess—bigger action, crazier characters, and a main character who doesn’t care about anything except power and money.
In *Goodfellas* and *Donnie Brasco*, there’s a focus on relationships—brotherhood, trust, and betrayal. The characters struggle with their choices and the consequences of their actions. But in *Scarface*, Tony Montana doesn’t care about any of that. He’s not in it for loyalty or family; he’s in it for himself. His downfall isn’t slow and tragic like in *Goodfellas*, where Henry Hill loses everything bit by bit, or in *Donnie Brasco*, where Donnie is torn between two worlds. Instead, Tony’s fall is a total explosion—paranoia, violence, and self-destruction all at once.
At the end of the day, *Scarface* isn’t trying to be realistic or subtle. It’s flashy, intense, and dramatic, making it feel more like a wild ride than a deep character study. You don’t necessarily relate to Tony Montana—you just watch in awe as he goes all in and inevitably crashes and burns.The biggest difference between *Scarface* and the other movies we’ve looked at, like *Goodfellas* and *Donnie Brasco*, is how over-the-top it is. While those films feel more grounded and realistic, *Scarface* is all about excess—bigger action, crazier characters, and a main character who doesn’t care about anything except power and money.
In *Goodfellas* and *Donnie Brasco*, there’s a focus on relationships—brotherhood, trust, and betrayal. The characters struggle with their choices and the consequences of their actions. But in *Scarface*, Tony Montana doesn’t care about any of that. He’s not in it for loyalty or family; he’s in it for himself. His downfall isn’t slow and tragic like in *Goodfellas*, where Henry Hill loses everything bit by bit, or in *Donnie Brasco*, where Donnie is torn between two worlds. Instead, Tony’s fall is a total explosion—paranoia, violence, and self-destruction all at once.
At the end of the day, *Scarface* isn’t trying to be realistic or subtle. It’s flashy, intense, and dramatic, making it feel more like a wild ride than a deep character study. You don’t necessarily relate to Tony Montana—you just watch in awe as he goes all in and inevitably crashes and burns.
Lina Wertmüller, The Seduction of Mimi (1972) is a political satire. The film begins with Mimi, a Sicilian dockworker, losing his job after voting against the Mafia-backed candidate in an election. Looking for work, he moves to Turin where he becomes involved with the communist labor movement and starts an affair with a communist woman. Once Mimi returns to Sicily, he abandons these communist ideals he adopted and conforms to the traditional, patriarchal, and Mafia-controlled social structures present in the South. Even though he has been unfaithful himself, when Mimi learns his wife had an alleged affair resulting in a child that is not his, he aims to have a child with the partner of his wife’s suspected lover for revenge. I found it interesting how Wertmüller used Mimi’s contradictions–his outrage over his wife’s affair despite having one himself–to expose the absurdity of patriarchal honor in Sicilian culture. Rather than seeking any meaningful resolve, Mimi attempts to regain control in a hypocritical and petty way, showing how masculinity is performative. I thought this was an ironic way to critique Sicilian ideals. Theodoros Rakopoulos’ Two kings of mafia dependency: on making and unmaking mafia men, explores how dependency–on the Mafia or the state–is central to the male identity and social belonging for the Sicilian man. In the “inside the mafia” section, Rakopoulos describes how Cosa Nostra creates a homosocial “brotherhood” built on secrecy, loyalty, and mutual protection. The exclusion of women from the mafia, reinforces a system where male identity is constructed and validated. Interestingly, the concept of “male honor” is symbolically defined by women, as the perceived fidelity and control over women in a man’s family is fundamental to the mafia’s construction of power. I thought about The Seduction of Mimi, when considering this gendered structure. The film explores this exact point of how masculinity is tethered to women’s behavior. Mimi regards his honor as his ability to control the women in his life. His reaction to learning about his wife’s infidelity is not about emotional betrayal but rather his masculine pride and public image, mirroring the mafia mentality of women’s behavior serving as a reflection of a man’s honor. The revenge plan to impregnate the wife of his wife’s suspected lover, is a comedic representation of men reestablishing power and masculine dominance through control over women. Like Balduccio Di Maggio and Giovanni Brusca, Mimi is preoccupied by other men’s perception of his masculinity.
Since the film touches on many of the themes Rakopoulos explores around dependency within the mafia, I was particularly interested in how The Seduction of Mimi represents dependency on the state. How does Mimi’s movement between the leftist, state-oriented North (Turin) and the Mafia-dominated South (Sicily) reflect different kinds of political and social dependencies, and how do these shape his identity and actions?
An omerta of emotional emptiness. There seems to be an unspoken realization that upon achieving material success in the mafia world, one, despite having all the worldly desires, is truly empty. This begs the age-old question about the worth of success if one does not have anyone to share it with. In Scarface, in the dinner scene, we hear Tony say, “Is this it?.” Despite the luxurious food at his table and the women by his side, he feels emptiness. We have seen this pattern in other films, whether it’s Casino or Godfather Part III; there is a certain sting that comes with success–whether it’s violence, sadness, or betrayal. As Ronald Bogue underscores, in these films, there is a certain idea that appearances take precedence over meaningful relationships. In Donnie Brasco, we saw the titular character struggling with the codes of honor and attempting to find the balance between what’s right and what’s justice. Entering the mafia world with visions of grandeur and success corrodes the mind and soul, forcing its participants to forgo meaningful relationships. However, there always seems to be those willing to participate. Just like the code of silence, omerta, it seems as though there is a silence on not disclosing the true nature of “success” in the mafia world. The penance of success, one could say, aligns with this idea from the 1920s that “crime doesn’t pay.” Taking this phrase into a more figurative light, we can see that it is true. While crime may pay you in diamonds and jewels, you are empty in what truly matters. You can sit in your mansions and drive your cars, but when you turn to your right and see no one there, there is nothing more demoralizing and saddening. But, nonetheless, the cycle continues and one after another, eager and hungry individuals enter this trap, at their own fault, and learn the one truly painful, silent code of the mafia–loneliness.
I have no idea what I just watched. The best parts of this film were when Mimi was being attacked or crying like a baby. The Seduction of Mimi perfectly aligns with Two Kinds of Mafia Dependency, as it explores how Mimi’s honor and masculinity is fundamentally tied to his relationship with women, both in his desire to control them and in his contradictory dependence on their validation. Throughout the film, Mimi embodies the idea that to be a true mafia man, or even a true Sicilian man since he attempts to reject the mafia for a large portion of the film, his machismo is both defined by and deeply dismissive of women. He tries so hard throughout the whole movie to be a strong, powerful man (especially when he works in Sicily with the job the Mafia provided for him), but he acts like a wimp for most of the movie. Always crying or begging for attention in a really pathetic way that gave me the ick.
I though it was interesting that when he left Sicily, he adopted a freer, more progressive mindset, embracing Communist ideals and even a more egalitarian romantic dynamic. Yet, upon his return, he falls back into the mafia-driven structures he once tried to escape. Once again, pathetic and cannot hold his own ground and even enjoys the benefits the Mafia provides for him because it makes him feel more successful and more like a man.
What baffled me was how easily the women in his life entertained him again after they said he assaulted, betrayed, or disrespected them. Maybe it was a reflection of the times, or maybe it was meant to satirize the absurdity of these gender dynamics. His whole life revolves around women- his sheer hypocracy in having an affair. then feeling betrayed that his wife also had an affair, just to engage in another affair for revenge.
The whole time, he tries to prove that he is a strong man, but when in a new city, he walks in the opposite direction of everyone else, looks confused, does not know where to go. He plans for revenge by seducing then impregnating Amalia, but realized he was in over his head once she actually gave in. He tried to kill Rosalia, but could not because she agreed that she should be punished. The best part of the film was when his friend, wife, child, and younger brother (probably the only person that respected him as a man) left him at his betrayal of communism. Overall, this movie was really weird.
Wednesday March 26: The article “Two kinds of mafia dependency” is a very interesting look at the concept of dependency from the mafia or the state. As we have watched Mafia movies and discussed the themes and key elements of what makes a mafia movie unique, themes of the group are ever-present. In no mafia movie can an individual stand alone, but is instead supported by a group. However, this article explores the difference in dynamics between the support of a group within the mafia compared to the dynamics of a group supported by the state against the mafia. The key that ties all of the groups together while simultaneously being the catalos that destroys the various groups is the idea that knowledge is power. Those who hold the knowledge acquire the wealth and control of society. Within the mafia space, violence is used to get rid of knowledge and insure that the knowledge known is kept a secret. The more that is known, especially with regards to the mafia, the less power and the less influence it has. This article discusses this idea as it looks at the mafioso transitioning to the group of mafia members to the group of the state. The mafia lost its power because it lost its secrecy, its knowledge become commonplace. With the unraveling of mafia allegiance to state allegiance, this article explores the power that knowledge has on all groups from the state to the mafia, as no group would be affective without the knowledge that they all crave.
Lina Wertmüller’s Comedy/Drama film “The Seduction of Mimi” tells the story of Mimi, a dockworker from Scilily. After he votes against a Mafia leader in what was supposed to be a secret election, he loses his job and subsequently leaves his wife and moves to Turin in search of new work. Mimi enters a romantic relationship with a Communist activist and thus finds himself navigating two relationships while also scheming revenge on the corruption that caused such conflict in his life. I found the exploration and interplay of how societal corruption affects individual lives particularly interesting and engaging throughout the film. Theodoros Rakopoulos’s article “Two Kinds of Mafia Dependency: On Making and Unmaking Mafia Men,” focuses on two types of dependency: interpersonal dependency within the Mafia and dependency on the state. Throughout the film we see Mimi’s own dependencies – on his wife, lover from Turin, and the societal factors that influence his life choices. Reading this article, I wondered about the state’s role, and Mimi’s dependency on the state, and how it affected Mimi’s life throughout the film?
In addition, the consequences of betrayal were a theme central to both the film and the article. Rakopoulos discusses the idea of “dishonored violence,” detailing the extreme violence often used by rival parties. For example, the article discusses the feud between Santino Di Matteo and Brusca, caused by Di Matteo’s collaboration with police. In retaliation, Brusca kidnapped, and ultimately brutally murdered, Santino Di Matteo’s 11 year old son, Giuseppe Di Matteo. In addition to revenge the Mafia took against Mimi, the film also explores Mimi’s own revenge he inflicts on others. After finding out his wife Rosalia is pregnant with another man’s child, he attempts to rape and, ultimately successfully, seduce Amalia, the wife of the man who got Rosalia pregnant – they agree to convenience a child in revenge. How do audience members react to or try to reconcile with the extreme moral issues associated with betrayal and retaliation against betrayal?
While reading the article, I also wondered about how the film portrays masculinity, particularly in its relationship to violence and betrayal?
The Seduction of Mimi was definitely an interesting watch, but some parts were pretty tough to sit through, especially with how gender dynamics played out. The Italian soundtrack made it a little hard to follow, and even though I had the subtitles on, I found myself focusing more on the visuals and just trying to piece everything together through what was happening on screen.
Mimi as a character really stood out—he had such a bold and outgoing personality, especially for the time. But at the same time, his actions made it clear how deeply ingrained traditional masculinity was back then. Some scenes felt straight-up misogynistic, and it was hard not to notice how much sex in the film was catered toward male desire. It wasn’t just about relationships—it was about power, control, and ego. The way Mimi reacted to his wife’s affair compared to his own cheating just screamed double standards. He could justify everything he did, but the second she stepped outside the box, it was like a personal attack on his masculinity.
Even though the film had its comedic and satirical moments, there was an underlying discomfort in how gender roles played out. The movie definitely seemed to be commenting on the hypocrisy of men like Mimi, ones who see themselves as progressive but still fall into the same toxic patterns. The way women were treated, both by the characters and just in the framing of certain scenes, really highlighted how different expectations were for men and women back then. Some of it was frustrating to watch, but at the same time, it made a point about the kind of societal norms that still linger today.
I felt like the movie we were supposed to watch for today, The Seduction of Mimi, was kind of different from some of the other mafia movies we’ve watched due to the less violent nature of the film. Instead of focusing on organized crime directly, The Seduction of Mimi showed how mafia power operates in everyday life through politics and work. Mimi isn’t a mafioso, but is still caught in a world that is shaped by mafia influence. What stood out to me the most was how Mimi tries to sort of assert control but ends up getting played by the system at every turn anyways. His downfall feels more pathetic than tragic, which makes the movie both funny and kind of sad in a way. I thought the Rakopoulos reading paired really well with this movie as well. The author’s argument about the two kinds of mafia dependency, between mafia men and then between pentiti and the state, helped shed some light on Mimi’s situation. He’s constantly relying on institutions that claim to offer him power like the party, the union, even his own sense of masculinity, etc. However, those dependencies just seem to trap him more in a way. Like the mafia men in the article, he never really becomes independent but instead just shifts who he’s dependent on. This movie also ties back into some of the themes we saw in II Mafioso and even Salvatore Giuliano, especially the idea that the mafia operates less like a gang and more like an alternative system of power. In all these films, being a man means playing by certain rules and breaking those rules comes with consequences. Mimi tries to rebel, but in the end, he just becomes another version of what he was fighting against. Ultimately, I thought the film did a great job showing how personal choices are still shaped by larger systems of power.
This was a very interesting film that although I did not enjoy, I did learn a lot from. In the movie, Mimi’s journey shows how inescapable the mafia is as an organization. After voting against their candidate in an election that was supposed to be secret, the mafia forces Mimi to seek refuge in Turin. There, he ends up involved with the mafia, a strange mole consistency defining the mafia men for comedic purposes. Though the film focuses heavily on themes of adultery, through such, it exposes Mimi’s fragile masculinity; his incompetence in his relationships with females made him a very unlikable character for me (I particularly did not like the rape scene where Mimi tries to get his wife’s lover’s wife into bed, yet this did prove how violent and corrupt his mind had gotten). Mimi is constantly shown to be a figure of hypocrisy, and I found it very hard to root for him – it was much easier to get beside the ruthless killers of past films like Michael Corleone. Nonetheless, his journey was intriguing to watch. The film essentially ends where it started, yet this time, Mimi is one of the men telling people to vote for the mafia’s candidate. Rakopoulos’ writing shows how individuals come into the homosocial mafia for a number of societal, economic, and cultural pressures as opposed to a voluntary commitment. This is shown in the film’s final moments as Mimi chases Fior, screaming that he never wanted this in the first place, yet his changes in dependency led him to this circumstance. The fluctuating changes in social involvement proves Rakopoulos’ point as Mimi moves through trade unions, Communist party engagement, the mafia, and more, yet makes sure to always be associated with some group: “dependency does not wither; it shifts.”
Lina Wertmüller’s “The Seduction of Mimi” was an interesting, albeit slightly confusing examination on men’s relationship with the mafia. At first, when you introduced the film to us as being slightly inappropriate, I was expecting Mimi to be a woman who is seduced by a mafia man, but instead was faced with a film in which Mimi, a man, is seduced by the mafia. So much so, that he abandons his ideals and continuously aligns himself with the mafia even though he believes himself to be a communist. In this film, he repeatedly makes decisions and agreements that push him further and further into being involved with the mafia, like when he starts working in Turin and gets a job at a factory after claiming his wife is related to a famous mafioso, or when he took the blame for the death of Amilcare and then reaped the benefits after his release from prison. We continue to see how Mimi is seduced by the mafia, whether that be for protection, money, or respect. It seems that many of his run-ins with the mafia are unintentional on his part, reinforcing this idea of dependency, as explained in the Rakopoulos article. Mafia men become dependent on each other. Mimi becomes dependent on mafia men coming to his aid when he makes various mistakes and betrays the trust of others throughout the film, and consistently the mafia men are there for him in these situations. This makes him dependent on them, and forces him into the mafia which he previously was dead-set on working against.
The Seduction of Mimi and the article both explore how people navigate systems of power and social pressure, especially in relation to organized crime. One uses humor and personal conflict to show how individuals get caught between ideals and survival. The other looks at how people become tied to mafia structures through daily life and relationships, and how difficult it can be to leave those ties behind.
The film follows a man who wants to do the right thing but often fails to live up to his own values. He moves between political causes, romantic interests, and work situations, but always finds himself bending to the expectations around him. His actions reveal how people perform strength or loyalty to protect their status, and how quickly they abandon their beliefs when those beliefs become inconvenient.
The article builds on this idea by showing that mafia involvement is often less about dramatic crime and more about everyday connections. People are pulled in through family, jobs, and community ties. Leaving that world is not just about saying no. It requires undoing parts of who you are and how you have lived.
Taken together, the film and the article show how difficult it is to separate personal choices from the larger systems people are part of. They suggest that what looks like individual failure or hypocrisy is often shaped by the pressure to survive in a world where power operates quietly but forcefully.
I found this film to be very intriguing and exactly like Professor Dainotto explained it in class “very different than all the other films we have watched”. When I first began to watch it, I was not sure how to anticipate an “inappropriate” film of the 70s. It was only after watching it for a bit that I understood where this connotation came from. When reading the name, The Seduction of Mimi, I was anticipating a woman as the main character and seduction in the sexual sense of this woman. That could not have been farther from the reality of this film. I felt as though the plot of the film was rather progressive for its time. The metaphor in the title, referring to the Seduction of Mimi by the Mafia, was very well done. While watching, I couldn’t help comparing Mimi’s actions and values to those of other mafia movies we’ve seen. Mimi begins claiming to support the communist representative and refusing to vote for the mafia candidate, staying true to his beliefs. However, what I found most interesting was that most of the mafia movies we have watched, although not always well, the mafioso prioritize family. More specifically, their mafia family. Throughout this film, Mimi did everything but prioritize his families, only to find a new one – the mafia.
The Seduction of Mimi offers a satirical take on masculinity, politics, and the subtle ways mafia power operates beyond brute force. Unlike the glorified portrayals of the Italian mafia in other films, Wertmüller presents the mafia as a pervasive but invisible hand that shapes personal choices, career paths, and even romantic entanglements.
The protagonist, Mimi, is not a mafia man—at least not in the traditional sense. He begins as a working-class Sicilian trying to assert his independence by voting for the Communist candidate, only to find himself punished by an unspoken system of control. The mafia doesn’t break his legs or kill him; instead, they pull economic and social strings that ruin his job prospects and exile him from his home. The film shows how the mafia’s influence operates through everyday dependencies, aligning with Theodoros Rakopoulos’s concept of “mafia dependency.” As Rakopoulos writes, there are two kinds: the kind that makes mafia men, and the kind that unmakes them. Mimi’s journey embodies both.
In Turin, Mimi attempts to rebuild his life and ideology, but eventually compromises—taking a job protected by the very people he once opposed. His moral descent is gradual and often played for laughs, but it’s clear that he becomes complicit in the same structures he initially resisted. Rakopoulos’s idea that mafia power is embedded in networks of obligation and reciprocal dependence is evident throughout the film. Mimi doesn’t join the mafia, yet he becomes entangled in its logic: loyalty, silence, and self-preservation.
All in all, the film challenges viewers to rethink what mafia influence looks like. It’s not always blood and violence—sometimes it’s a job offer, a favor, or a silent punishment for stepping out of line.
The film Seduction of Mimi was at times confusing and strange to me, but at the end of the movie I think I can understand what the film was trying to get across. The main character, Mimi, started as a comrade and on the left side of the political spectrum. Throughout the movie he was influenced by women and the workforce to eventually be fully on the side of the mafia. It took him a very long time to realize thi, but he was slowly turning to the mafia’s side. Once he got a job in a factory, he had a taste of what it was like to be successful and have money. Once he had that taste in his mouth he just wanted to be more and more successful. The people that were offering him this success was the mafia. The point that I found very interesting in the film was the scene with one of the mafia bosses and Mimi where the mafia boss intentionally drops money on the ground. This says multiple things in my opinion. This says that the boss knows he has all of the control because he is the one with the money. Even if Mimi does not agree with him politically, he knows he needs the money so he has no choice other than to comply with him. The other part of it is the motion of Mimi kneeling down to pick up the money. This motion shows that he is the submissive one in this deal and he is kneeling down to his superior. The other part of the movie that shows that it is trying to be a mafia movie is all of the closeups. There are many close ups throughout the film that show different things especially with the mafia bosses when they zoom into their mole.
The Seduction of Mimi felt like a big departure from the mafia films we’ve watched thus far. Instead of focusing on the typical rise and fall of a powerful gangster, this film centers on a man who doesn’t really know what he wants, and who keeps making choices that backfire. Mimi isn’t someone to look up to or fear. He’s just insecure and stuck trying to prove his masculinity in a system that doesn’t reward honesty or weakness.
Unlike The Godfather or Scarface where characters chase power and status through violence and strategy, Mimi gets caught between political beliefs, social expectations, and his own ego. He’s not climbing a ladder; he’s just trying not to fall off it. One moment that stands out is when he tries to assert control by getting revenge on his wife, mirroring the toxic masculinity we’ve seen in other films, but here it’s pathetic rather than powerful.
The film uses comedy and irony to expose the everyday corruption and double standards in Southern Italian society. It’s not about mob wars or empires, but how the system wears people down and how men like Mimi try and fail to play by the rules. Compared to Goodfellas or American Gangster where the characters are sharper and more deliberate, Mimi is a mess. That makes him more frustrating, but I suppose more real.
For Mar 26th: The film this time initially kind of reminded me of I Cento Passi in that both main characters had their lives derailed after going against the mafia. But that’s where the similar vibe ended. While Peppino had a strong moral sense of justice, Mimi’s subsequent actions were self centered, driven by things such as his job, pride, and masculinity. He became more and more despicable, like the Mafia that he used to condemn. I really didn’t like the progression of this movie. In Theodoros Rakopoulos’s article, it further explored how the Mafia amplified traditional masculine norms and how these ideas were maintained in the Mafia through associated honor, violence, and patriarchal power. Mimi’s masculine identity was hurt when he failed in his political career, and so he clung onto the last bit of power that he could exert—male dominance—and “forced” a child with another woman for revenge. He went against his principles when pushed to the edge. Both the movie and the article showed how resistance is complicated and often compromised, especially when individuals are deeply involved in hierarchical or patriarchal systems. While Mimi wasn’t inherently evil, however, in his attempt to resist the system, he only got more affected by it. Before he even realized it, he was already clinging to a version of masculinity that the Mafia had defined for him. In the end, the article highlighted an interesting perspective on how the Mafia created an economic and moral dependency that I didn’t realize existed.
In a movie that is clearly somewhat satirical and comedic at times, there are still really important themes and messages in “The seduction of Mimi.” One of the topics that we have discussed throughout the year and that is ever present in the movie is the clash of vulture and politics. More specifically, it shows how the clash between personal honor and political power can lead to both comedic and devastating outcomes. Mimi finds himself caught between these two worlds: his newly awakened political consciousness and the oppressive weight of centuries-old notions of honor and values.
The Mafia’s pervasive influence on daily life lies at the heart of this clash. In Sicily, the Mafia’s subtle (and sometimes overt) presence dictates who can work, who must remain silent, and who faces punishment for breaking the code of loyalty. Within this environment, Mimi’s indignation over his wife’s infidelity is not just a personal betrayal; it becomes a matter of communal shame. His response is fueled by the same forces that compel him to compromise morally for survival.
Wertmüller’s satire also underscores the inescapable nature of Mafia power. Even when Mimi relocates to Turin, his struggle for dignity and independence is ultimately shaped by the looming threat of violence and corruption back home. Through humor and satire, Wertmüller reveals the deeper damage inflicted by a system where personal honor is constantly tested and real freedom remains elusive in the realm of mafia political power.
The film for March 26, “The Seduction of Mimi,” (1972), touches on a new take for the mafia: a satirization of the patriarchal, and more generally hierarchal, structure of the Mafia and the second-order impacts on the presentation of masculinity and politics for people within and adjacent to organized crime. With the main character, Mimi, we observe his insidious relationship with the Mafia. Initially, he is a man convinced of his beliefs as a proclaimed communist. So convinced, that even when told to vote for the Mafia, he decides to submit his ballot for the communist representative. This results in immediate dismissal from his job and Mimi fleeing the area. We contrast this certitude with the man we see at the film’s end–broken, having been slowly destroyed by incrementally compromising his morals. It started with taking the only job he could get: a construction job for the exact type of people he had purportedly opposed. Then, he leverages the hierarchal nature of the Mafia to find a cushier job. Finally, we observe a complete collapse of his prior moral code, as he buys into the form of masculinity the Mafia champions, and chooses to directly work for the Mafia after his release from jail. This story mirrors that of the article–we observe exactly how one could accommodate the ideals of the hegemonic group, growing reliant on the support it provides. Overall, the film and article provide an interesting new take on the Mafia, exhibiting its more subtle impacts on those within and outside of the organization.
The Seduction of Mimi felt like a shift from the mafia films we have seen so far. Rather than following the classic arc of rise and fall through power and violence, this film presents a protagonist who stumbles through a maze of social expectations, personal contradictions, and shifting ideologies. Mimi is not a mobster in the traditional sense, but he becomes caught in the same webs of obligation and performative masculinity that define many mafia narratives.
Mimi’s choices seem less rooted in belief than in reaction. After losing his job for voting against a mafia-backed candidate, he moves north and embraces Communist ideals, only to abandon them once back in Sicily. He is torn between different systems, each demanding a version of masculinity he struggles to uphold. His plan to get revenge on his wife by fathering a child with another woman illustrates this clearly. Rather than confronting emotional betrayal, he treats the situation as a challenge to his masculine pride, seeking to reassert control in a way that mirrors the patriarchal values he once rejected.
Rakopoulos’s article on mafia dependency helped contextualize this. While Mimi is not part of the mafia, his story reflects similar dynamics: dependency on systems of power, fear of social humiliation, and a desire to appear strong and in control. The mafia men in the article shift from mutual dependence within the organization to full reliance on the state. Mimi’s own trajectory, from worker to political dissenter to someone tangled in the very structures he once opposed, echoes this idea that dependency shapes not just survival but identity.
The Seduction of Mimi reminds me again of the disparity between American and Italian mafia movies. In Italian mafia movies, the mafia is much more an element of everyday life rather than a separate ecosystem that can be explored. In the case of Mimi, the mafia is only a device to help comment on masculinity and honor. The critique of masculinity in the movie is echoed in the article. Masculinity, loyalty, and honor are all inextricably linked and the mafia is a system that reflects and upholds those ideas. In the case of Mimi, he is constantly caught between the alternative style of thinking of socialism and the traditional style reflected by the mafia. This concept is also reflected in his relationships with his traditional wife and his lover who does not believe in marriage. While this critique is happening, there is another layer of men’s relationship with women and sexual desire. This front culminates in the double cuckolding. Also, the entire courtship of Amalia culminating in the scene in the bedroom has a striking and crazed energy. The way the bedroom scene is filmed with constant zooming, replays, and closeups with weird camera angles creates a comedic yet bizarre tone that makes the audience acutely aware of the camera. This choice reflects the crescendo of themes in the movie. Overall, I thought the movie was by far the strangest film of the class so far, and I’m still reflecting on Mimi and his actions.
I found the dynamic that the Rakopoulos article reveals about mafioso to be startlingly accurate, as it is a point of view that I had never considered before. Once a person is initiated into the Mafia, they lose their freedom. In other words, they are bound forever to the family. This is a concept that is very drawn out in several films—with the only exit from the Mafia often being in death. However, Rakopoulos offers a third option, which actually has been covered in this course’s content: witness protection. In the same way that join the Mafia ties a person to them, betraying the Mafia code of silence ties a person to the government. A person is never truly free, they are just enslaved by a new life. This theme comes up a lot in The Seduction of Mimi. Mimi is constantly tied between Mafia influences and the corrupt politics of the North. No matter where he goes, independence seems to be impossible. Whether or not this is the fault of the Mafia, society, or Mimi’s choices, the film leaves up to choice. The more Mimi tries to assert control over his life, the further entrapped he gets. I think that the film also briefly touches on masculinity, with those who leave the Mafia being seen as emasculated. I think that Goodfellas is a good example of this, where Henry’s supposed “family” tries to kill him and his wife. In many ways, this Mafia dependency is an inescapable cycle.
To be completely honest I didn’t enjoy this movie at all. I was so disgusted by the character and his patheticness that it was almost comical. If I had to describe this man in one word it would be that he is a crybaby, which is not something that is commonly used to describe someone in the mafia. This is a character that I believe was meant to be hated: forced his wife to have sex with him (and made her cry), cheated on his wife, basically attempted to assault/rape every women he pursued, and cried and manipulated women the entire time.
It was also interesting seeing the expectations of men and women in this movie. For one, he often said it was a marital duty for women to have sex with their husband. Also, there was the double standard of him being able to cheat, but once she did it was cause for murder. I also think there was no coincidence that the second mistress (the knitter) was a virgin, a trait that is traditionally very sought after.
However, mimi was not what should be described as a typical man, let alone a mafia man. He somewhat resembled the main character in I cento passi in that he was against the mafia, but still got protection because of his family relations (how he got out of getting killed the first time was to talk about his relations to the Liggio family). However, the character in this movie is weak and reliant so he ended up working for the Mafia while the main character in the other movie was strong and didn’t give in. Although mimi doesn’t show his weakness and vulnerability as much when he is around the mafioso he still does he just doesn’t cry in front of them or say things like “I am going to smother you in love.” So, it’s interesting to see a male character who has quite a few traditionally female traits.
Between “The Seduction of Mimi” and the article for this week, we are looking at the mafia and specifically men in the mafia in a much different way. The article highlights how society paints a picture of how a mafia man should act and who they should be, as well as how individuals can fight against the stereotype. Mimi has quite a journey in this film, and we can see the theme of “making mafia men” coming through with the expectations that he faces when he becomes entangled in the mafia system. This isn’t only apparent in his time with the mafia though, as throughout the entire movie, Mimi seems to be fighting against all of the norms that had been set for a man in the situation that he found himself in.
An important connection that I drew between the article and the film is how we can look at the mafia itself as a system of society. Mimi spends much of the movie trying to release himself from the grip of the mafia and the expectations that existed for him. I see this as an example for society as a whole and for people who find themselves in disadvantageous situations where they feel trapped by the norms and expectations of society. This reflects the uphill battle that people face when fighting against social structures, and the emotional toll that this fight can have on a person, as shown through Mimi’s perspective.
After having seen a few Italian-made films containing themes surrounding the mob, I think we can begin to delineate what the different traditions are in terms of depicting the crime organization. “The Seduction of Mimi” is an interesting intersection of what I think are several different ideas surrounding the mafia popularized more by Italian films than their American counterparts. For one, the Italian mafia is clearly more strongly and overtly politically aligned in these films than the American mafia. While the story in today’s movie is more of a comedy, it brings back recurrent themes about the mafia’s opposition to communist government and politicians (think “I cento passi”) and the agendas it would push (with force) in public affairs (reminiscent of the mafia in the military in “Salvatore Giuliano”). Of course, we’ve seen the American mafia interfere with politics and political figures, but never to such an extent that an individual would be targeted for their voting record. Additionally, the Italian mafia is presented as more consequential for the films’ protagonists. Mimi, like Nino Badalamenti in “Il mafioso”, attempts to escape far from the mafia-infested home he knows, ultimately being aided by his mafia connections, while winding up back where he started and more entrenched in the mafia’s game than before. The protagonist never “gets out” whereas in at least some Americanized stories, we see our protagonist overcoming their connections to the mafia whether that is by cutting ties (“Casino”), becoming an informant (“Goodfellas”), or simply a consequence of never being completely involved from the beginning (“Donnie Brasco”). “The Seduction of Mimi” provides a unique opportunity to see how the content of these different movies including politics, career, family, honor, and more all define the mafia movie which I think is becoming increasingly characterized along cultural lines between the American and Italian interpretations.
This is a movie unlike any other we’ve seen in my opinion. In terms of the plot, it seems unnecessarily dirty and dark but certainly has an Italian sense of humor. I think there were many phrases that didn’t translate over well which impacted the feel of the movie. I also thought that strangely enough it portrayed the mafia in a very realistic way. The mafia wasn’t some all powerful group of men that were hidden, but rather just ordinary looking men (although in this movie denoted by the three freckles on their right cheek). They were still killers, but they were able to make mistakes (like when they left Mimi in the truck when they were going to dump the body). I also thought that the movie was almost a commentary of the way northerners viewed southerners (but from the perspective of the southerners). Some examples of this is when Mimi is screaming at the end of the movie that they’re all cousins, probably a very funny way of just emphasizing how complicated and large families are in the south (and to southerners this would likely be very funny). Another example is Mimi’s raunchiness and his infidelity, absolutely despicable traits, but the way in which they were scripted were obviously meant to be comical. The last thing that I wanted to mention that I think was a plot point in the movie that was on purpose is that after Mimi is a father or still while Fiore is pregnant that he abandons his convictions with the communists, because he comes to realize its stupidity and if he sticks to his “ideals” his child will just grow up in poverty. In terms of its cinematography, I don’t know how else to say this but it felt like a very low budget movie or like a movie from the 30s or 20s. The movements were janky and disconnected in a way matching the perplexing story of the film. There were lots of moments where there would be a massive and rapid zoom in to show a reaction almost as if it were a skit. A notable example is at the end where it zooms in on the cardinal figure with the freckles on his cheek. That moment also really confused me because throughout the movie the relationship with religion was with imagery or crosses, but then all of a sudden there is a cardinal (it was just like a completely unexpected moment).
After watching The Seduction of Mimi and reading the article by Theodoros Rakopoulos, I understood how both works explored systems of power, masculinity, and dependency, albeit from different angles. For instance, in The Seduction of Mimi, Mimi is made and ruined by the systems of power. Mimi’s life is shaped by a constructive dependency in that he is bound to corrupt politics that guarantee the survival of the economy, and to gender norms that demand dominance. When he tries to assert independence, he is punished. Eventually, his ruin is demonstrated through a destructive dependency in that he attempts to escape the mafia system but instead gets more caught up in it. In Rakopoulos’s article, he creates a framework to help highlight the dynamics in Mimi’s story. With the concept of constructive and destructive dependency, he captures how Mimi is drawn into and held by networks run by the mafia and captures the collapse of his identity as his resistance to the system leads to his ruin.
I found it interesting how both works revealed how identity is constructed through social and political dependencies that are more often than not inescapable. Additionally, Mimi’s personal crises reflect the patterns that Rakopoulos observes where belonging is being tied down and attempting to be free is risking one’s death.
The Seduction of Mimi marks a sharp departure from the glamorized portrayals of the Mafia seen in more recent films, which often emphasize wealth, power, and a seductive criminal allure. Instead, Lina Wertmüller’s film harkens back to earlier depictions like Il Mafioso, reminding us of the Mafia’s insidious integration into everyday Italian life. The film paints a broader, more pervasive image of Mafia influence–one that touches politics, labor, and personal relationships.
By portraying the protagonist, Mimi, as a buffoon, Wertmüller cleverly emphasizes the Mafia’s power through contrast. Mimi manages to find relative success–not because of merit or intelligence, but through blind luck and Mafia ties. His incompetence becomes a satirical tool, highlighting the absurdity and danger of a system in which loyalty and corruption matter more than character or ability.
Mimi is far from a sympathetic figure. As noted in earlier posts, he is consistently despicable. He manipulates, assaults, and betrays nearly everyone in his life. He lacks integrity and moral conviction, adapting his beliefs to suit his immediate needs. In many ways, he resembles a darker version of Ferdinand from Pierrot le Fou–a foolish man stumbling through chaos of his own making. But unlike Ferdinand, Mimi is not simply self-destructive; he actively harms those around him.
Wertmüller uses Mimi not just to mock toxic masculinity and political hypocrisy, but also to critique a system that enables such a man to survive–and even thrive. Rather than romanticizing the Mafia, The Seduction of Mimi dismantles it with biting humor, exposing the moral rot that lies beneath its surface.
I believe Lina Wertmüller’s “The Seduction of Mimi” critiques the very essence of traditional masculinity often advocated for and glorified within the mafia through its innovative cinematographic techniques. One that stood out to me in particular is the camera’s tight close-ups reveal the character’s emotional unraveling. I was especially struck by how the handheld camera during the infidelity confrontation creates something of a visual juxtaposition to the facade of masculinity by highlighting his vulnerability. Additionally, turning these moments into comedy is particularly fitting to the theme of masculinity ultimately being a farce and a joke. I also noticed use of the wideshot which I understood to be a technique to literally and, I suppose, metaphorically marginalize the masculine, individual pretenses in the context of greater society. This is particularly evident when the camera pulls back during the voting, ultimately adding a sense of mockery to individual ambition. Furthermore, Mimi’s inability to assert himself in rebellion or complicitness makes individual ambition seem almost performative while the weight of social pressures are what ultimately pull you one way or the next.
Lina Wertmüller’s The Seduction of Mimi can be viewed as a sharp commentary on class struggle. Mimi, a working-class Sicilian caught between the mafia, corrupt labor politics, and his own pride, tries to navigate systems far more powerful than he is. His initial refusal of the mafia’s candidate in a local election sets off a chain of punishments that force him into exile, humiliation, and dependence. His arc shows how class and power dynamics trap individuals who try to assert agency within unequal structures.
This theme of class entrapment is apparent in Theodoros Rakopoulos’ article on mafia dependency. Rakopoulos shows how mafia men in San Giovanni are bound by mutual obligations that resemble both brotherhood and class solidarity. These men rise through the mafia’s ranks by forging interdependent ties. But when they betray the code of omerta and become state collaborators, they don’t gain true freedom because all they are doing is simply exchanging one form of dependence for another and are now tied to the state’s protection.
Both Mimi and Rakopoulos’ mafiosi confront systems that have the promise of empowerment and security but actually lead to subjugation. Whether it’s the mafia, the state, or the labor union, each institution maintains control by manipulating loyalty and dependency. And in both cases, attempts to resist or rise above one’s station are punished not just socially but morally, with accusations of cowardice, betrayal, or emasculation. Together, the film and article expose how class and masculinity reinforce each other in systems designed to keep people in their place.
For class on 3/26:
The Seduction of Mimi felt quite unique compared to other mafia films we have watched recently. A lot of this is centered around Mimi, who is a super interesting character that I don’t think we are supposed to be made to like. Mimi’s character is a departure from what we have seen in other films when it comes to those who are tied to the mafia system. He is definitely not the stereotypical gangster, and he gets caught up between systems and becomes a shell of himself by trying to become dependent on this. To put it simply, Mimi is a pretty lame character. He is weak in many ways, struggles with social balances, and throughout the movie fights internally and externally with his identity. This personal crisis seen in Mimi is brought about by the integration of the mafia system into everyday life in this movie, which again is a theme here like seen in other films we have watched previously. The extent of this system, though, which expands very deeply into all levels of society, is more similar to what we have seen in Italian versus American mafia movies. What is interesting, though, is how far gone Mimi seems to be from the typical mafia man. He is certainly a manipulator, violent, and carries these dark and negative themes associated with mafia actions, but he lacks everything else such as a system of values. Rather, he is so caught up in control and power over his own life and trying to continuously see how he can assert his “masculinity.” This is definitely one of the harder characters to understand and piece together. Writing this, I felt like I learned even more about the film, and my initial reactions definitely involved confusion over what some of this all represented. One thing that is clear, though, is the connection between this film and the article for today. I think that even the title of this article does a great job of connecting to the character I have talked about and how the mafia system is interacted with in the film.
Roberta Torre’s Angela (2002) follows the story of Angela, the wife of mobster Saro, who plays an essential role in his criminal operations, particularly by assisting in drug smuggling. Though initially a loyal accomplice, Angela’s world shifts when she begins an affair with Masino, a younger member of Saro’s group. Their relationship, offering emotional intimacy and a sense of independence, stands in stark contrast to her emotionally barren marriage. As the affair deepens, Angela begins to question both her involvement in the mafia and her relationship with Saro. She starts withholding information from him and eventually collaborates with law enforcement, ultimately contributing to the collapse of his criminal network. The film ends on a somber and unresolved note: Angela is alone, abandoned by both Saro and Masino. Her personal and political betrayal, though a step toward freedom, leaves her isolated and unmoored. I found this ending particularly compelling because, despite Angela’s brave decision to assert her agency, she is not rewarded. Instead, she is left to face the consequences of defying a deeply patriarchal and violent system. The film powerfully conveys how difficult it is for women to assert autonomy in male-dominated structures like the mafia, where liberation often comes with the loss of the very systems that once sustained them.
Baris Cayli’s article, “Performance matters more than masculinity: Violence, gender dynamics and mafia women,” argues that status and inclusion in the mafia is less about gender and more about the performance of core values like loyalty, silence, and a capacity for violence. Within these hyper masculine spaces, some women manage to gain respect by adopting the behavioral codes that govern mafia life. Cayli discusses figures like Angela Russo, Sorella di Diego, and Maria Grazia Genova—Sicilian women who, by adhering to omertà, demonstrating loyalty to the family, and engaging with violence, became active participants in mafia operations, including managing extortion funds and overseeing drug trafficking.
While reading the article, I thought of Angela’s role in the film. She earns her place in Saro’s operations by performing the key mafia values of loyalty, discretion, and complicity in violence. Yet Angela’s story also reveals the limits of this performative inclusion. When she prioritizes her personal agency over the codes she once upheld, she effectively rejects the identity she built within the organization. Her downfall underscores the precariousness of a woman’s power in the mafia: while performance can earn respect, any deviation from the code results in exile. The film and Cayli’s argument together illuminate the tension between performance and identity, and the limits of female agency within the patriarchal system of the mafia.
Angela, crime drama directed by Roberta Torre, is centered around a woman navigating the male-dominated world of the Sicilian mafia. The film follows Angela, the wife of a mafia figure, who becomes more and more involved in her husband’s illicit drug trade. As she rises in influence, she enters into the dangerous affair of one of her husband’s associates which inevitably leads to betrayal and violence. The movie presents a stark, neo-realist portrayal of mafia life, emphasizing themes of power, gender roles, and the consequences of challenging traditional structures. Cayli’s article challenges the assumption that masculinity is the defining trait of power within the mafia. Instead he argues that performance, how individuals embody and enact power through violent or strategic acts, matter more than gender alone. This means that women in the mafia can hold significant influence if they were to successfully perform the behaviors and ruthlessness expected in organized crime such as the mafia. Both Angela and Cayli’s article explore the role of women in the mafia, particularly how they gain and maintain power. Angela’s character exemplifies Cayli’s argument, she isn’t powerful because she is masculine, she is powerful because she effectively “performs” the expectations of mafia life. However, her downfall does underscore the limits placed on women in this world, reinforcing the precariousness of female agency in organized crime. Overall, I really enjoyed this film because it finally gave us insight into the life of a woman character who is fueled by power instead of always seeing it from the eyes of a man.
I’m not sure what to think of the movie “Angela.” I liked the plot and thought the acting of the Angela character was quite good. But stylistically the directing of Torre and the cinematography of Cipri was a bit off-putting and made me feel uncomfortable viewing the movie.
• The lighting for most of the movie, especially the indoor scenes except the prison, was very dark. It made it hard to easily see what was happening and required paying extra attention. I found myself rewinding a few times to actually catch what was happening.
• The scenes in the backroom and upstairs of the shoe store were claustrophobic as the racks holding the shoes were high with very narrow aisles between them. Upstairs, the area where the men would meet around a small desk was wedged between the racks of shoes and a wall.
• Also, in some shots, the wrapping of the dead body in plastic and one of the love scenes between Angela and Masino in particular, they use one-take close-ups. Because of the close-ups and one-takes it is hard to see what is actually happening as the camera is almost out of focus as the depth of the shot changes without the camera re-focusing while the action is frenetic. Along with that in the body-wrapping shots, the lighting is dark, making it even harder to see what is happening though we know what is happening.
Thematically, the movie differs most from other mafia movies by having a woman so intricately involved in the everyday illicit business dealings. She’s not just a pretty accessory of the mafia men. However, Angela is relegated to the most basic of the dealings just being a packer and deliverer of the drugs. Whenever there were meetings to discuss the business, she was not included and instead would try to eavesdrop on what was happening.
We do see the usual themes of honor and omerta as Angela and other won’t leak details to the authorities. However, in this case, the authorities appear to be very competent in terms of their following Angela and of their surveillance techniques which bear fruit and lead to the successful prosecution of Saro. Everyone else is released which also shows that Saro held to omerta and didn’t rat out his associates.
The movie ends on a melancholy note with Angela continuing going to the port to meet up with Masino who never shows. While they don’t provide any indication of why he doesn’t show, I suspect that Saro had him killed as revenge (which he had vowed in his last meeting with Angela on a prison visit) for his affair with Angela.
I thought Angela (2002) presented a really unique portrayal of a mafioso’s wife because Angela is so involved in not only running the front business, but also actively participating in the drug trade. Her utility to the mafia does not hinge on her ability to act like a man, but rather her inconspicuousness as a woman. However, despite her high level of involvement in her husband’s drug trade, Angela is still shut out of business conversations between the men. Similarly to Kay in the Godfather trilogy, Angela literally and symbolically gets the door shut in her face, isolating her from the men’s world, the world where decisions are made. This isolation is emphasized by camera shots through windows and shelves, giving the audience the sensation of being in the outside looking in. The framing of the shot reminds us that, like Angela, we are simply a powerless viewer. Furthermore, the sense of isolation allows us to sympathize with Angela and understand her motivation for her affair with Masino. In my view, her affair was an expression of frustration toward living in a men’s world and her desire to have some sense of control over her life.
In the movie Angela, you can see, as Baris’s article points out, that men and women’s roles in the mafia are more similar than they are different: they both depend on performance. We saw this concept for men illustrated by Mimi’s performative masculinity, for example. Similarly, for Angela, she is accepted into the mafia business for her commitment to the drug trade and her adherence to the mafia code of loyalty. Though she may have been disloyal in her marriage, she remains loyal to the business even when threatened with tapes revealing her affair. In my opinion, this delineation of love and business portrays Angela as a real member of the mafia, rather than just a mafioso’s wife.
Angela felt stylistically and thematically distinct from many of the mafia films we’ve watched so far. One of the most striking features of the movie was its dark and moody atmosphere, created through an intentional use of chiaroscuro lighting. The constant play between light and shadow, especially in scenes set in dark alleys or when characters are viewed through windows, gave the film a sense of mystery and psychological intensity. The choice to often shine a harsh yellow light on Angela while leaving the background in near-complete darkness draws the viewer’s attention to her internal state, as well as to her physical presence as a woman in a traditionally male-dominated mafia world.
Unlike many other mafia films, Angela places a woman at the center of the narrative, which is a refreshing and subversive choice. Rather than simply being an accessory to male violence or power, Angela is shown navigating her own agency, complexity, and survival within a corrupt system. The film avoids glamorizing the mafia lifestyle, instead choosing to highlight the suffocating atmosphere that surrounds Angela. The absence of bright colors and the film’s gray-toned, muted palette underscore the bleakness of her situation and the emotional toll it takes.
The camera work also reflected her psychological state. There were frequent close-ups, often isolating Angela in the frame, which made it feel like we were being pulled into her world—one of suspicion, entrapment, and longing. There were also moments when the camera felt voyeuristic, peering at her through windows or mirrors, reinforcing the idea that Angela is constantly being watched and judged, both by her community and perhaps by the audience as well.
The film Angela was very different from many of the films we have seen thus far. This is the first film where the main character was a woman and the woman was directly involved in the mafia business. The characters in the movie were just as surprised as the viewer to see how involved Angela was in the business. Many of the characters were constantly calling attention to her and mentioning that they were uncomfortable with her being involved in the business. Some parts of the movie that brought attention to me was the lighting. The whole time the lighting was very dark and at times made it difficult to see what was going on. This brought a sense of premonition that something bad was going to happen in the movie or that there was going to be sorrow at some point. That could’ve been to deepen the emotions felt when the business and Angela’s relationship with her husband broke down. Another point of this movie that I didn’t quite understand was the music. There was one song that was repeated many times during the movie and I didn’t know if that was for a reason or not. I found the repetition of the same song very off-pudding and strange. In addition, there wasn’t the traditional violence that we normally see in traditional mafia movies. I wonder if this is because the movie is centered around a woman, so it tried to focus on elements of the mafia business outside of violence. I thought that the movie was a nice change from the normal mafia movie, however I thought the plot was a bit predictable and left something to be desired. It seemed clear from very early on in the film that Angela would eventually fall for Masino which would eventually tear the business apart.
This is the first mafia movie we’ve seen that is centered around a female protagonist who plays an active role in the mafia’s ‘business’ endeavors. As I would expect, there were moments when other men discussed their disapproval of her involvement in the organizaion’s operations. For instance, we see one scene in which the door is shut in Angela’s face, reminiscent of the same thing happening to Kay in the Godfather. However, unlike some of the other films we’ve seen, there is no physical violence committed against her. In contrast, Angela’s husband actually treats her fairly well and seems to really love her. As we saw in Casino, Angela seemed to desire something that she wasn’t getting from her marriage. In Casino, the luxurious lifestyle that Ace provided Ginger wasn’t enough for her, which led to the downfall of their relationship. In Angela, this was depicted differently, as Angela expresses feeling like she needs a change from what seems like a very monotonous, routine life working in the drug trade. Despite this difference, Saro, simlarly to Ace, can’t understand why she cheated on him, asking if the money wasn’t enough for her.
I found the movie’s depiction of the mafia to be not at all romanticized, but really the opposite. I think the montage that continues in a similar way throughout the movie shows the passage of time and the nature of the organization’s work in a fairly monotonous way. Overall, nothing too exciting happens, but rather, we see the gradual and simple development of Angela and Masino’s relationship in the context of the mafia, which is what ultimately leads to its tragic end.
I was curious about this film because it’s the first time we’ve seen a female lead, especially in the mafia genre. There’s so much to unpack about Angela’s role as a female in the mafia world as opposed to a male, but I was interested in our discussion of mafia dress and how Angela fit the part. In earlier films, we discussed the mafia dress code: brown or black hat, big cigar in the mouth, smooth-fitting blazer, gelled hair, sometimes a vest, and a general clean and suave look — at least the most generously portrayed ones. Angela embodied this in her way, instead of the previous female characters, whose bodies were gawked at and whose clothes mainly included dresses. Angela dresses in red and black, wears a trench coat, and pants. But she’s not overly masculine; she still wears a low-laying collar and does her hair up. However, I find the female translation of the mafia dress code fascinating. To contrast Angela with the trophy wives of the past, she dresses the part of a mafioso.
In some ways, this movie feels like an extension of Goodfellas because Karen starts as the unknowing wife in that film, then becomes deeply entrenched in the business. While Angela had much more awareness and involvement in the industry, I can see how previous mafia films laid the groundwork for a movie like Angela.
The filming quality was also interesting, as most shots are dark, and the music is melancholy.
Angela by Roberta Torre offers a starkly different lens on the mafia world compared to the other films we’ve seen in class this semester. Instead of focusing on the mob boss or “enforcer”, the film focuses on a woman in the system, Angela- the wife of a Palermo drug dealer, who begins to break away from the code of “omertà”. What makes Angela so striking is its emotional intimacy. It doesn’t glamorize the mafia lifestyle. It instead pulls us into Angela’s personal awakening, using close-ups, blurred focus, and a dark aesthetic to create a suffocating atmosphere.
Unlike the calculated rise of Michael Corleone or the brash ambition of Tony Montana, Angely moves cautiously and hesitantly. Her affair wish Masino isn’t just an act of rebellion, but the first time she takes control of her own life. Even that decision was shaped by fear, longing, and captivity. There’s a sense that no matter what she does, she’s still navigating a world that wasn’t built for her.
While other mafia movies focus on external conflict, Angela turns inward. It’s a story about loneliness, quiet resistance, and the cost of stepping out of her role. That makes it less explosive than some other movies, but just as haunting.
Although we have studied and discussed films that briefly acknowledge the role and perception of women in organized crime, Roberta Torre’s Angela gives a more focused account of the active role of the mafia wife. It was especially interesting to read about the real mafia women in Cayli’s paper, and I was surprised to learn how actively these women participated in organized crime and how they defied societal expectations. While the female figures in Godfather, Goodfellas, and Scarface observe business from behind the scenes, Angela helps with the transportation of cocaine and runs a shoe store as a cover. Yet, she is still excluded from the conversations behind closed doors- a scene reminiscent of the end of Godfather One. Despite this, she still follows the code of honor discussed in Cayli’s essay, even when threatened with the release of her phone calls with Masino. I also noticed how Torre has drawn on some of the Neorealist techniques we have seen in class, including stylistic lighting and unsteady camera movements that serve an interesting role in illuminating the secret life of a mafia wife and her unfolding love affair. Similar to Francesco Rossi’s Salvatore Giuliano, the camera follows and moves with the characters, creating a documentary-like feel and evoking a sense of mystery. I also found it interesting that Torre occasionally uses bright scenes that differ from the rest of the film, usually when Masino and Angela are together; the odd floating car scene at minute 45 specifically comes to mind as it deviates from the established style of the film. The mysterious quality is also conveyed through the use of interior/exterior framing that captures Angela leaving Masino’s apartment, along with the recurring date that illustrates the passing of time.
As expected, I found Angela to be very different from the other mafia films we have watched in this course. It is immediately apparent that Angela takes on a vastly different role from the other women in mafia films. Not only does she know what is going on with Saro’s criminal life, she is also an active participant in it. We see her packaging drugs and accepting cash payments on his behalf within the first few minutes of the film. This early depiction sets the tone for Angela’s complex character. She isn’t a passive bystander or a victim shielded from the violence and dealings of the Mafia world. Instead, she challenges the traditional portrayal of women in Mafia films and takes an active role in the criminal activity.
I thought some of the cinematography in this film was very interesting and also clearly different from other films. I’m curious if this is a specific technique. I noticed that there is a lot of use of blackness and obscuring of the main object from view. For example, at around 48 minutes, they are wrapping up a body with tape and plastic. You can clearly hear the tape and see parts of it, but it is also extremely dark, and the camera is moving quite a lot, almost as if it is attached to one of their hands. Another example of this extreme darkness / black background is at around 9:43, when the necklace is picked up, it almost shimmers in the darkness, but is barely seen.
“Angela” distinguishes itself in the mafia film genre by adopting a female perspective in a typically male-dominated narrative space. Unlike “The Godfather” or “Goodfellas” that position women somewhat peripherally, this film centers on a woman’s experience within mafia culture, revealing how patriarchal power structures specifically impact women who exist adjacent to organized crime. The film subverts genre conventions by focusing on emotional landscapes and passion rather than the details of organized crime and the typical hero/American Dream-themes that are ubiquitous in traditional mafia films. A key tool in accomplishing the fixation on the passion and intimacy of the film was the use of close shots.
Despite branching away from traditional mafia movies in such an explicit way the ultimate failure of Angela’s rebellion against the suffocation of the mafia reinforces its inescapability – a common theme in mafia films. I believe that by centering a woman’s perspective, “Angela” highlights aspects of crime culture that remain unexplored in male-centered narratives while offering a critique of both criminal power structures and the broader patriarchal society in which they exist.
Angela stood out to me as one of the more unique mafia films we have watched so far. For the first time, we follow a female protagonist not just adjacent to mafia life, but deeply involved in it. Angela is not just aware of her husband Saro’s business, she actively participates, transporting drugs and running their shoe store front. Yet despite her critical role, she remains excluded from the inner circle of decision making, a divide made literal in the film when doors are closed in her face. I found that visual motif especially striking, and it reminded me of The Godfather when Kay is shut out from Michael’s world.
Baris Cayli’s article helped me better understand Angela’s place in this world. Rather than viewing mafia power as something rooted in masculinity alone, Cayli argues that performance matters more. Whether man or woman, a person’s ability to uphold key values like loyalty, silence, and toughness determines their position in the mafia. Angela clearly performs these values well, earning her place in the business. Even when her affair with Masino threatens to expose her, she stays quiet and refuses to implicate others. Still, the film makes clear that her power is fragile. The moment Angela steps outside the expected role and prioritizes her own desire for independence, the world she helped sustain begins to fall apart.
I also thought the film’s aesthetic choices deepened its themes. The frequent use of dark lighting, close-up shots, and visual obstructions gave the movie a claustrophobic feel that mirrored Angela’s emotional state.
I found Gomorrah to be a stark departure from traditional mafia films, particularly in its rejection of the romanticized image of organized crime. Unlike Scarface or The Godfather, it offers no charismatic antihero (as we just recently mentioned on Monday: even Angela offered some semblance of a hero), no operatic rise and fall, but rather just a stable portrayal of crime as some inescapable force. Matteo Garrone’s documentary-style direction reinforces this realism, making the film feel more like a social critique than a conventional crime drama.
The narrative initially felt disorienting, but I came to appreciate how it underscores the pervasiveness of the syndicate in everyday life. There’s no Tony Montana figure to anchor the story, just ordinary people trapped in a brutal system. This lack of central focus made it harder to connect with the characters, but I understand that’s the point: crime here isn’t about individual ambition but an entire ‘industry’ of violence.
On the topic of violence, I also found those scenes themselves to be quick and unsettling, nothing like the stylized executions in say Scarface, for example. The economic angle of Gomorrah stood out to me as well. The film seems to emphasize how crime infiltrates legitimate industries, from fashion to waste management. It’s less about gangsters and more about an entire infrastructure of corruption, which reminded me of much of what Dickie said about viewing the mafia as a business instead of some complex family tree. Finally, the last thing I’d like to mention (or ask rather) is about the position of Naples as the central setting of the film. We spoke frequently earlier in the semester about the perception of Sicily as this mysterious island overtaken by organized crime, and now I wonder how this film was perceived culturally in Italy, as it is one of the only ones we have seen wherein the mafiosi come from a region outside of Sicily.
Gomorrah was a horrifically riveting film that connects five stories through the violence of organized crime. Through a more neo-realist depiction as discussed last lecture, combined with the end credits where the director included statistics of Camorra’s deadly impact, this documentary style further enforced that this film would not be glamorizing murder like many others. This was starkly contrasted by the two teens’ romanticized view of the mafia – it was interesting to see further how people wanted to base their behaviors off of criminals in the movies; the influence film has is truly inspiring, sometimes in the worst ways. I especially felt emotional during Toto’s scenes, seeing the youth being so easily manipulated into this inevitable life of pain. The scene where he talks with his lifelong friend, them arguing as they are on different sides of this war and thus one of them is going to kill the other, was really heart-breaking as it showed how innocent civilians are dragged into the mafia’s games. Gomorrah truly showed that people of all races, backgrounds, ages, and professions are victim to this industry of violence; I liked how the film displayed all aspects of the economy and daily life as being affected by organized crime from waste management to fashion. The mafia dictates the industries by controlling the people within them: “criminal groups are able not only to launder money successfully, but also to “launder” their people introducing them into the high finance world, to regulate the local market, as well as to plan access to public work contracts, and consequently to influence the development of the entire society”. This week’s reading was a great supplement to prove how the organized crime’s “conception of absolute power” came to fruition, killing anyone in their path who proved an obstacle or hinderance.
Angela’s role in the film reminds me of Kay in the Godfather Trilogy and Poor Little Pepina, serving as a moral anchor and example of the isolation and consequences of mafia participation. Much like Kay, Angela decides to no longer put up with the constant fear and pressure in her role as the storekeeper, the front for Saro’s illegal activities, and in her interrogation scene, she betrays her husband. Aside from her love affair with Massino, Angela felt this tension in her life, and she recognized the fragility (i.e., the police raid) of her world. Somewhat reminiscent of the theme of Kay having an abortion because she didn’t want to bring another child into the mafia world, Angela forcefully removes herself from this tumultuous lifestyle and achieves independence that she had previously not experienced. Moreover, I think her actions speak to the unexpected power of women in the mafia world. Not only can they serve as leaders and agents, and not just victims, they provide a lot of the heart and soul within the mafia world, which these mafia leaders often lose in their conquest for material success. Judith Butler says, “Gender is not something one is, but something one does,” and I think that in this situation, Angela is using her power in her femininity to achieve a better life for herself. She has the courage to betray her husband, acting almost gangster-like and extremely ruthless. Angela through her “peformance” (as Baris Cayli would describe it) shows her strength within this cultural system and proves that women do have a voice in this patriarchal enterprise. What’s more, it’s her power that leads to the ultimate downfall of her husband. Much like Michael in Godfather Part III, it is the death of Mary that cements his wake of suffering and his separation from Kay that symbolizes his legacy of isolation. The cost of meaningful relationships is what comes in the pursuit of material success, and it is often the women in these situations who are forced to deal with the consequences and, more times than not, are the true Achilles heel of these organizations.
Apr 2: Watching Gomorrah felt less like a movie and more like eavesdropping on a world where crime is the status quo. Matteo Garrone didn’t produce the usual mafia glam of suits and cigars. It’s just raw, everyday survival inside a system run by the Camorra. One scene that stuck with me was when Franco, a seemingly respectable businessman, calmly cuts a deal to illegally dump toxic waste. His assistant, Roberto, watched in horror as they ruined the land and risked lives—all for profit. There were no guns and no threats, just quiet corruption masked as business. It’s not loud or dramatic; it’s chilling because it felt real. These people aren’t cartoon villains. They’re just doing “business” in a world where morality’s been stripped away.
That moment hit even harder after reading Antonio Balsamo’s article on the evolution of the Sicilian Mafia. Balsamo explained how today’s crime syndicates aren’t just violent—they’re strategic, embedding themselves in sectors like waste management, construction, and finance. It’s not about shootouts anymore; it’s about contracts, connections, and staying invisible. The mafia has modernized, blending into the economy like any other corporation. And just like in the film, it’s often the innocent—kids, workers, entire communities—who pay the price.
Gomorrah and Balsamo both make it clear that organized crime isn’t just a criminal issue. It’s a social and economic system, thriving where the state fails to provide protection, opportunity, or justice.
Matteo Garrone’s 2008 crime/drama film “Gomorra” tells the story of the impoverished areas of Campania in juxtaposition with the Camorra crime organization that is very wealthy due to drug trafficking, corruption, and chemical waste. Throughout the film, some try to challenge the Camorra’s control, such as Ciro and Marco, by stealing weapons from the Camorras. Others try to survive, like the tailor Pasquale who tries to evade paying protected fees. The ending of the film is stark, as the characters realize there is no escaping the Camorra and the corruption that surrounds them – leaving both the characters and the audience with no hope. In my opinion, the film compellingly showed the tragic influence of the Mafia on everyday lives in a community deeply embedded in corruption. Throughout the film, I admired Matteo Garrone’s cinematography and how he used visual techniques to effectively portray the theme of hopelessness in this town – creating a realistic portrayal of what life was like in Compania. I also found it interesting how the film highlights the systemic corruption that is embedded in Compania, making me wonder how the city’s conditions allowed organized crime to continue. The film leaves audiences feeling hopeless about these larger societal forces at play.
In Antonio Balsamo’s article “Organised crime today: the evolution of the Sicilian mafia,” he discusses the Mafia as a form of economic power through the “Mafia shareholding company.” Balsamo talks about how the modern Sicilian Mafia infiltrates the economy, using businesses to launder money and control industries. Through invading businesses and public contracts, the Mafia are deeply connected to the economy. Similarly, “Gomorra” depicts the Mafia’s involvement in businesses, such as construction and waste management. Balsamo’s article highlights the evolution of the Sicilian mafia, transforming from an instrument of local government to an economic power and “instrument of the regulation of the economy” (373). The film depicts a similar evolution, with the Camorra expanding from traditional organized crime to involvement with legal businesses and the economy. In addition, both the article and “Gomorra” highlight the Mafia’s intersection with political powers. Further, the article talks about corrupt politicians and the film portrays politicians’ role in reinforcing the Camorra’s activities. How does the Mafia’s role in the economy and politics challenge or strengthen our views of traditional organized crime? How does it better help us understand the modern Mafia?
Gomorrah portrays the effects of the Cammora on Naples, particularly through 5 different storylines. Unlike the majority of the mafia films we have seen thus far, Gomorrah does not glamorize the mafia structure or actions in any way. There is no dramatic use of lighting or colors or music to dramatize the story–there are no visual or audio queues announcing the violence. Instead the film shows everything as is, which is raw, often dark or dirty settings, feeling particularly unstaged. The camera moves in a documentary style and feels almost unsteady at certain moments–placing the audience directly in the scene as bystanders. There is no hero’s arc but rather 5 stories of lives interrupted by the Camorra. The toxic waste, though less related to the Cammora, also represents the physical hopelessness for the area as the dumping of the waste is doing irreversible damage to the land. The weapons buried throughout the film also seem to represent the depth of the roots of the Cammora in Naples which is even more than what meets the eye. The lack of resolution to any of the plot lines in the films relay the helpless situation where no one is above the hold of the Cammora.
Matteo Garrone’s Gomorrah (2008) offers a look into the Camorra in Naples and brutal reality of its effects on everyday life. Unlike more stylized gangster films, it strips away glamor and focuses on how deeply organized crime has embedded itself into daily life—from kids playing at being gangsters to corrupt businessmen cutting deals. The film jumps between storylines with minimal connection, reinforcing the idea that the Camorra isn’t a single criminal mastermind but a decentralized system with influence everywhere.
I’ve also watched the newer Gomorrah TV show on HBO Max, where Ciro Di Marzio is the main character. While the series is more dramatic and character-driven than the film, both are based on Roberto Saviano’s investigative book Gomorrah. The show builds out more personal stories and rivalries in contrast to the film. Still, the violent, bleak world in which organized crime is interwoven into everyday life feels consistent with the film. Both versions show how criminal networks are woven into the fabric of society, not just operating on the outside.
Antonio Balsamo’s article, “Organised crime today: the evolution of the Sicilian mafia,” helps put this in perspective. He explains how Cosa Nostra has adapted over time, moving away from visible violence and toward integration with legitimate businesses. He introduces the idea of the “mafia shareholding company,” where legal and illegal operations become nearly indistinguishable. What stood out most to me is how modern organized crime operates less like a street gang and more like a multinational corporation, using front companies, laundering money, and manipulating public contracts. Garrone’s film and Balsamo’s article both challenge older ideas of mafia power. It’s not just about guns and territory anymore—it’s about economic control, social influence, and invisibility.
Gomorrah and the article both deal with the evolution of organized crime and how deeply it affects daily life. One shows this through a series of interwoven stories that capture the impact of criminal systems on ordinary people. The other explains how the mafia has changed over time, adapting to new economic and social realities while keeping its influence intact. Together, they suggest that organized crime is no longer limited to the margins of society but is part of how certain economies and communities function.
The film avoids glamorizing crime. It focuses on low-level players, children, and workers who are caught in systems that reward silence and loyalty over justice. Each character’s story shows how violence and fear shape their choices, often leaving them with no real options. The film’s tone is cold and observational, making it clear that the damage done by the criminal system is slow, quiet, and long-lasting.
The article explains that the mafia today is more flexible and less visible. It has moved from traditional violence and hierarchy toward business-like strategies, using front companies and financial systems to expand its reach. This shift makes it harder to detect and even harder to challenge, especially when it blends into legitimate markets.
Together, Gomorrah and the article reveal how organized crime thrives not just through violence but through its ability to adapt. They show that the system survives not because it is hidden, but because it becomes ordinary. That is what makes it so dangerous.
Matteo Garrone’s Gomorrah takes a very different approach from most of the mafia films we’ve watched so far. There’s no central antihero, no clear rise and fall, and definitely no glamour. Instead, the film presents the Camorra as a decentralized system of power—one that touches every aspect of daily life in Naples. The structure of the film reflects this: disconnected storylines that show how organized crime functions less like a family business and more like an economic engine in the way a system like an economy is.
What stood out to me was how Garrone uses realism to strip away any mafia-romanticism. The handheld camera work and muted color palette make the violence feel ordinary, even routine. There’s nothing dramatic about it—it just happens, and people move on. The young boys, Totò and Marco, treat weapons like toys. Roberto watches as his boss casually makes decisions that harm entire communities. These characters don’t make bold choices; they’re swept up in a system that offers no real way out.
The economic angle of the film also reminded me of what we’ve discussed about the mafia as a business. Franco, the waste manager, isn’t a gangster in the traditional sense, but he may be the most dangerous figure in the film. His deals are quiet, legal on the surface, and far-reaching in their impact.
Gomorrah isn’t interested in spectacle. It’s about how organized crime embeds itself into the fabric of society on an incredibly fundamental level.
I did not enjoy Gomorrah, primarily because I felt it didn’t have a fully developed plot like other mafia movies we have watched. There are notable tropes in mafia movies which make them a mafia movie, such as the trophy wife/girlfriend, the pursuit of a successful life, a battle between work and family, multiple murders, etc. but this movie didn’t have all these elements, and the ones it did incorporate weren’t to the same extreme. I think another thing that was interesting in this movie was the lighting and camera focus. I noticed that every time there was a violent act, the lighting was incredibly dark and you’d often only be able to see the violent act in shadows or increments. I first noticed this in the tanning bed scene where the dark lighting made it challenging for the viewer to identify what was happening. Maybe this was intentional and was an attempt to play off of earlier mafia movies, in which violence wasn’t shown but the sentiment was still there, but for a newer movie, this was a bit frustrating. I also found the camera angles a bit bizarre, particularly because it would be extremely focused on one person, and it blurred everything else out in the background. One scene I found interesting was during a dialogue between two people. Though two people were present in this scene, the viewer only saw the back of one person’s head and a blurry figure which resembled the other. This camera focus was repeated throughout the film, and I found it odd given it caused a feeling of dissociation from the film, as the viewer could never see what was fully going on.
Alternatively, I found Balsamo’s article quite interesting because it focused on the interconnectedness of the mafia and politics, primarily in Sicily. One particular quote which stuck with me throughout the reading is, “the mafia in Sicily is not dangerous or invincible in itself. It is dangerous and invincible because it is an instrument of local government.” The reading went on to explain how distinguishing actions of the mafia vs. that of the government were difficult to decipher, and mentioned the mafia’s reliance on the “pizzo” which almost served as a government form of taxes. With the mafia having control over the economy and government, Italian political systems were able to promote the success of the mafia and vice versa.
The beginning of this film was intense and very surprising. It was similar to the other mafia movies we have watched alluding to violence and killing for money. Along with similar films from previous classes, this film felt less like an orchestrated movie and more like I was a fly on the wall through their life. I found this film to be very raw. Many of the mafia movies we have watched in class have shown organized crime through their plots. This one however was very different and did not romanticize crime and violence in the same ways. This movie feels like you follow ordinary people rather than high-profile mafioso. The audio played a big role in the vibe of the film for me as well. Oftentimes it echoed and was loud and chaotic. The biggest aspect of the film that created meaning for me was the camera work. Similar to Angela from last class, the camera movement was quite over the top, to symbolize the real life perspective and movement. Ultimately, this film is a documentary style film that shows the modernization of Camorra and its brutal realities. Organizations such as Camorra and the mafia have a true impact on society and this is depicted well throughout the film.
By this point in the semester, many of the tropes and themes of the mafia movies were starting to feel repetitive or unimaginative. We have discussed the potential death of the mafia movie at a certain point. And while parts of Gomorrah allude to the mafia movies that preceded it, the story felt fresh. I’ve found the Italian mafia movies to be more compelling because of the nuance in their portrayal of the mafia. Rather than the hyper-glorification of the mafia lifestyle in movies like Casino and Scarface, the mafia in Italy is harsh and intertwined with the community. Gomorrah was a movie about a place. How that place enables the mafia to operate. Nothing is amazing, or glamorous, or extravagant. Even the money that is spread around feels like barely enough to subsist. The mafia is a parasite to the people, but there is no alternative. The movie covers every element of society from children, to mothers, to drugs, to semi-legal waste disposal companies. The clothing industry is not safe either. Ultimately, there is an almost hopeless tone to the movie with the only spark of hope coming from the man who refuses to participate in the waste disposal business. But even then, he has no prospects. He is even told to go make pizza as that is about all there is for him to do. Gomorrah covers the mafia as a reality rather than obsessing over a fetishism for money and power like movies out west in Hollywood.
I thought the structure of this movie interesting, but maybe a bit confusing. It did take looking up a plot summary after watching for me to fully understand the connections between the characters, but once I did I was able to better understand the plot. I was struck by each of the stories, but especially that of Marco and Ciro. They were so heavily influenced by the films that we’ve seen in this class that they emulated the behavior of the mafia bosses in these films. This causes them to become involved in nefarious behaviors including a robbery during a drug deal, finding and stealing stashed guns, and robbing a video arcade. The stolen guns gain more attention from a powerful mafia organization, and they are tricked into thinking they might have the opportunity to work with them, but instead find themselves walking towards their own death. This was very interesting to see, especially in the context of today’s media-focused world. People often emulate what they see on their phones or TVs, and that often ends in them being in extremely dangerous and deadly situations. Even in the non-deadly situations, many times repeating something someone saw in a movie or online can lead to broken friendships, bodily harm, and emotional damage. I thought this part of the film was a very poignant reminder of how much violence is glorified in media, and how it is important to be aware of the dangers of following something you see online.
After watching Matteo Garrone’s film Gomorrah and reading Antonio Balsamo’s article “Organised Crime Today: The Evolution of the Sicilian Mafia,” I understood that both provide insights into the influence and evolution of organized crime in Italy. Garrone’s film Gomorrah offers a more grounded portrayal of the Camorra’s grip on Neapolitan society through stories of individuals affected by its violence. Additionally, Gomorrah focuses on the Camorra as a power organization and highlights its presence in everyday life through a variety of methods such as extortion, youth recruitment, sweatshop labor, etc. It also emphasizes how ordinary lives are consumed by the violence and control of the mafia while removing any hint of romanticism of the mafia. On the other hand, Balsamo’s article analyzes the Sicilian mafia and details its historical development, globalization, and transformation. Balsamo highlights the Sicilian mafia’s shift from territorial control to a global crime organization in the article. He warns of the mafia as an enduring threat to democracy and economic development and even advocates for international cooperation to destroy it.
The film and the article reveal the evolving nature of Italian organized crime and its change from local coercion to global networks of economic strength. However, both underscore the need for cultural awareness and legal action to confront the mafia system.
In the article for class tomorrow, “Organised crime today: the evolution of the Sicilian mafia,” by Antonio Balsamo, we observe the shift in the Mafia as the world undergoes globalization. Where the Mafia was once a tool for local governance, it now had spread its tentacles into becoming a significant economic regulator. This shift can be seen as its transformation from being directly tied to political systems to being both a power and enterprise syndicate, seen within its extortion of businesses and infiltration of legal corporations through shareholder markets. This has led to an overlay of legal and illegal interests, providing more avenues for influence and more options for exerting power. Balsamo essentially highlights how the growth of this dual-headed monster poses a real threat to democracy in Italy and the free market on the whole. In “Gomorrah,” we are offered perspective on how this entrenchment in the Italian economy may impact a wide range of civilians under its jurisdiction. The film provides a non-nonsense look into how brutal this infiltration is, as we see the impact of the illicitly-run toxic waste disposal business on characters like Roberto. This dedication to realism without falling into the tropes and grandeur associated with prior Mafia films we have covered in this class serves to highlight the societal decay that Balsamo discussed in his article.
I thought it was interesting how there were many different plot lines in the movie. This movie didn’t have the typical mafia theme of family and staying together because of reliance on a code, and the separate plot lines made the whole organization seem even more separate than it already was. Additionally, the separate plot lines showed a comparison between people involved with the mafia in different ways. The most interesting contrast was between the young boy who wanted to join the mafia and the two boys who were content staying on their own. The young boy’s story showed the common theme of a mafia man rising in the ranks and having more responsibility. He even contributed in the murder of someone he didn’t want to get killed and knew was innocent simply because he was forced to by the Gomorrah. So, his story showed a more similar path to other mafia movies in this way and also because there seemed to be more of a code. It also resembled the stories of Goodfellas and The Public Enemy in that it was a path chosen young. The other plot line showed a stark difference from other mafia movies because it was all about disunity. The two kids were not rising in ranks per say, but their reputation grew and they met the end of most of the mafia men in the other movies that rose in the ranks – death. Additionally, they were very last minute, spontaneous, and reckless, where I feel like most other mafia movie display the mafia as making calculated and planned moves. This was altogether a very different mafia movie to what we have previously seen.
Gomorrah struck out to me within the genre of mafia films because it never dramatized violent scenes and embellished tropes. It almost felt like watching a documentary at times, with the scenes being unglamorous. The use of five different storylines to reveal information about Camorra. I think the indifference that the directorial style takes is reflective on the film’s theme of how deeply ingrained and normalized organized crime may be in real life. The use of storylines involving not just members of Camorra, but bystanders who encounter it in their life strengthens the idea that it permeates the lives of everybody. For example, the story of ToTò is told tragically as a young boy who is corrupted by Camorra. He hastily has to make life changing decisions and the mafia controls his life.
The Antonio Balsamo supports this claim by examining the ways in which the Silician mafia evolved from an informal system in local governments to a large and influence force. For example, while they do not murder people to achieve their goals, mafia families may legally control companies that support criminal activities. Balsamo even names real world examples like Provenzano as a representation of the mafia’s existing influence today. The way in which Gorromah’s film style perfectly captures the bluntness and the slyness in which the mafia today operates.
Matteo Garrone’s Gomorrah offers a chilling almost documentary-style image of organized crime in Italy, and showed the grim realities of the Neapolitan Camorra. But while Gomorrah exposes the visible brutality and social decay fostered by organized crime, Balsamo’s article discusses the evolving, and ruthless, face of the Sicilian mafia. Balsamo argues that the mafia has transformed from a violent, street-level syndicate into a sophisticated economic actor that infiltrates legitimate businesses, exerts control over public contracts, and launders both money and personnel through its “mafia shareholding companies.” This adaptation is not simply about survival, but is a reinvention that allows Cosa Nostra to operate as both an “enterprise syndicate” thriving in globalization and a “power syndicate” that extorts businesses under the guise of local governance.
Together, Gomorrah and Balsamo’s analysis offer a dual lens into the nature of Italian organized crime today. While Gomorrah is focuses on five storylines, Balsamo’s perspective is systemic and transnational. While Garrone dramatizes the social cost that crime syndicates impose on everyday life, Balsamo emphasizes the mafia’s quiet re-emergence through submersion tactics such as embedding itself invisibly in the economy with institutional support. This shift makes the mafia harder to detect and dismantle and demands new judicial strategies and legal action.
For class on 4/2:
Gomorrah was a unique film and broke away from many of the stereotypes of other mafia movies we have explored so far. I thought the structure of this film was interesting because it did not seem to focus at all on the drama and violence often associated with the mafia in other movies. It was also interesting due to the fact that there was no single character to pinpoint in the film unlike what we have seen in the past to represent the principles of the mafia system. I thought Gomorrah did a very good job at taking a lot of the character away from the mafia intentionally and bringing it back to the “industry of violence” instead of the “family affair” idea. This film was also cut apart into many different plotlines which was definitely confusing at times until I realized what it was trying to accomplish. By doing this, the film was able to show the deep roots of the mafia at all different levels in society which is something we have definitely seen before. I liked the approach in Gomorrah to display the corruption created by the mafia through different characters and economic/social statuses. This movie also showed the mafia as more of a business than a family like I mentioned before. Gomorrah repeatedly highlights the violence that occurs as a way of executing business and the different industries the Camorra has embedded itself in. Although it confused me at times and it was not my favorite format of a mafia movie, I enjoyed Gomorrah and trying to connect it to the ideas from past films. I also thought that this film worked very well with Balsamo’s writing in showing the organization and function of the mafia as an industry.
Wednesday April 2: – In a similar fashion to our class discussion on Monday, within the movie, Gomorrah, there is a skillfully and very frequent use of close up shots and scenes of various characters as they navigate the harsh reality of life in Naples under the rule of Camorra crime syndicate. The use of frequent close up shots of the faces of characters leaves the audience feeling uncomfortable as it is a breach of characters personal space, causing the audience to develop a very personal and intimate perspective of the character. The deliberate use of close up shots also forces the audience to see the raw and unfiltered truths that these characters have to face living under organized crime. Unlike other camera shots or angles, the close up leaves the audience confused, stripping the power from the viewer, as the audience is left confused, receiving only snippets of information rather than the whole story. This disorientation, which causes the audience to loose the power as the viewer, puts the audience in the shoes of the characters being portrayed resulting in the feeling of a documentary style movie. In a similar vain to the close up shots being a defining characteristic of this film, I found the lighting/coloring of the film to be very telling. Shot in dark and tough lighting, the coloring of the film portrays a deeper meaning of the emotions of each character and the overall feeling of living under organized crime rule.
While many films romanticize the world of organized crime, Gomorrah gives us a stark look at the gritty reality of the Neapolitan Camorra. From the opening tanning salon scene, the film dives into the Camorra’s grip on everything from drugs to money laundering, showing how the mafia controls nearly every aspect of life in Naples.
Gomorrah distinctly shows that the mafia isn’t just about big-time criminals or flashy showdowns. Instead, it’s a system that infects everything. The movie moves from the top guys down to the low-level workers who get sucked into the game, offering a view of how the mafia operates on a much more personal level. It’s not just about violence, but also about control, money, and power that seeps into every corner of society, even the most innocent ones. Antonio Balsamo’s article, “Organised Crime Today: The Evolution of the Sicilian Mafia,” helps explain this shift in organized crime. Balsamo talks about how the mafia, particularly in Sicily, moved away from the traditional methods of violence and intimidation. Over time, they got smarter, integrating into the legitimate economy and finding new ways to make money. Gomorrah is a great example of this evolution. The movie shows a mafia that’s not hiding in the shadows anymore, and is embedded within the economic and political structure of the region.
The film certainly has its fair share of memorable moments, including outlandish violent scenes typical of mafia movies. Nevertheless, it also clearly comments how deeply rooted organized crime is in modern society: it can become a whole system that has its claws in everything.
For April 7th Class: The Irishman follows Frank Sheeran who retails the time of his life where he was a hitman for the Mafia and working under the mentorship of Russell Bufalino. Frank becomes very trusted and a close confidant to Jimmy Hoffa, the powerful and controversial leader of the Teamsters Union. As Hoffa’s power and defiance grows, so do the tensions between him and the Mafia, which ultimately lead to his mysterious disappearance. Unlike Scorsese’s other mob films such as Goodfellas and Casino, this movie is more reflective and mournful. It depicts and showcases the mobsters slowly fading into irrelevance, prison, and even lonely deaths. There isn’t any glamour and glitz, it’s just the emptiness and regret that follows the life of violence that these mobsters follow. We see Frank and his fellow peers grow old, the once powerful influence these men had fading as we see them go from commanding fear to then sitting in wheelchairs, barely remembered by the world. The film showcases how power can slip away, Scorsese shows that even the most powerful men can go from 100 to 0 and become irrelevant in the end. Frank spends the last years of his life regretful of the life he lived, alienated from his family, and the murder of Jimmy haunting him. The Mafia is usually showcased and seen as operating on a sense of permanence and invincibility, but The Irishman contradicts that notion by showing that time catches up to everyone and the world continues to move on, the Mafia isn’t immune to change, it too can fade and wither away just like anything else.
I found the film Gomorra to be intriguing due to the unique structure of the film (having five different plots at once) but was expecting some connection at the end or a greater sense of unity between them. When reading “Organized crime today: the evolution of the Sicilian mafia:, there were a few parts that stood out to me. Within section two, the importance of “invisibility” within the modern mafia structure was emphasized. The idea of almost flying under the radar is suggested to be crucial to their success. Within the movie, there is a large amount of secrecy among the groups. Deals are made in quiet spaces, hits are performed in more isolated areas, etc. However, the two characters that do not follow this pattern of behavior, are the two that meet an unfortunate ending and fail to retain their successes – Marco and Ciro. Another point I found interesting was in section 1: “Nowadays, the mafia in Sicily may appear dangerous or invulnerable because it has turned into an instrument of regulation of the economy”. While the characters in the film still had moments of violence, aggression, and brutality were not the sole factors contributing to who had the most power. These groups’ control over the clothing and waste management industries (seen through Pasquale and Roberto’s stories) demonstrated a newfound way of holding power.
One of the first things I took note of while watching “Gomorrah” was how jarring the traditional crime movie themes can be when presented in a modern setting. I think that in a lot of the films we have seen for class and in the discussions they have sparked we see the mafia through a profoundly historical lens. While the mafia and other similar crime organizations are historical in that their existences have endured through notable lengths of history, I think we neglect to consider how these organizations endure in their existence and their effects in certain sectors. As a class, I think we’ve done a wonderful job of recognizing how crime organizations continue to influence popular culture and the public sphere through the modern period, but we’ve never explicitly discusses how these organizations operate post-1990 really, and it was very interesting to see how this phenomenon continued into the 21st century with the Camorra in Naples. The movie does a wonderful job of immersion which contributes to the shock factor generated by the historical recency. For one, the movie, like other Italian-produced mafioso films, has a notable documentarian experience. The actors aren’t professionals, the cameras combined with sets and lighting effects do not produce the normal perfectionist soundstage feel, the locations present authentically to the story, and more. From the first scene, we can tell this is certainly not a documentary considering we see murders on film, but due to the comparatively close proximity the story has to modern day combined with the aforementioned documentary-like characteristics further combined with the factual evidence supplemented at the end of the film, we find ourselves fully immersed in the story, perhaps sometimes forgetting we’re watching a fictionalized retelling.
Honestly, I was confused for a lot of Gomorra. There were so many plot lines to follow, and it took a large portion of the movie to see any connection between them. I also didn’t find the movie to be particularly entertaining, maybe because it didn’t glamorize the mafia lifestyle or violence. The muted, drab color palette of the movie was interrupted only briefly by the blue lighting of the tanning beds, red lights of the strip club, or neon green of the factory. Other than this, the movie consisted of mostly grays and browns, with run down houses and crumbling concrete. While there were still gruesome and violent acts, they were not embellished or dramatic. Instead, they were swiftly carried out and often moved on from in seconds. This had the effect of portraying how ingrained in the culture the Comorra’s violence was. In all, the movie showed how deeply the roots of crime grew in Naples. Interestingly, it was missing any romantic subplot, and there was very little glamorization of mafia ideals. All of the focus was on profit, not themes like love or loyalty, demonstrating the shift in organized crime that Balsamo points out in the reading. They depend less on violence and more on infiltration of the economy. In the movie, violence is only a means of protecting the business and removing any threat to the mafia economy. Additionally, with such young kids and teens being involved in the mafia, it really shows how ingrained in the Neapolitan culture the mafia is, to the point where the teens are pretending to be Scarface. The mafia life is no longer hiding itself, as Balsamo writes, but become a sort of “shareholding company” which kids look up to.
Matteo Garrone’s Gomorrah does not offer the viewer a central character to follow or a satisfying narrative arc. Instead, it presents five loosely connected stories that reveal the deep roots of the Camorra in Neapolitan society. This fragmented storytelling feels intentional. It mimics the structure of the criminal networks themselves—dispersed, impersonal, and ever-present. We see how the violence touches everyone: a tailor, a waste management agent, a curious teenager, even children playing with guns.
What stands out to me most is how ordinary the violence becomes. Characters are killed not in moments of high drama but in alleys, parking lots, and construction sites. Garrone strips away the stylistic sheen we might expect from Mafia films. There is no romanticism here—just a slow, suffocating realism.
Antonio Balsamo’s article helps explain the shift we are seeing. He argues that the Mafia has evolved into a more business-oriented and decentralized force, with less reliance on traditional rituals or hierarchical loyalty. Gomorrah reflects that evolution. The Camorra shown here is not driven by honor codes but by profit and survival. Territory is more important than tradition. Connection and control matter more than legacy.
What I found especially effective was how Gomorrah made the system feel inescapable. Even the characters who seem disconnected from the violence—like the tailor trying to do honest work—end up trapped. The film shows us that the Mafia is no longer a world you enter; it is a world you are born into, one that surrounds you, whether you participate in it or not.
The very first thing I took note of when watching Gomorrah was how the language spoken was Napolitano and not Italian. Usually in Italian movies I can follow along, but here I was completely lost. The opening scene surprised me but also set the tone that your murderers could be people that you were friendly with: nobody is your friend in the Camorra. Another bizarre thing was how the music after the murders did not match the theme which added overall to the feeling of confusion in the opening. The camera work I noticed to be shaky, much like if it were a handheld camera and then it sometimes adopted a first-person view (which is something I haven’t noticed in any movies we’ve seen before). The scene I’m referencing is when the boys are looking out the window to see if the other people have left, the camera replaces the boy’s perspective for that shot. I think it also adds to the fact that the movie is being told through the eyes of these characters. More specifically, it is through the eyes of the tragic characters: Totò, Ciro, Pasquale and the two boys. Each of them are naïve or didn’t have much guidance and they know (however deep down inside) that the life of crime is wrong. Ciro is seen in the opening as cold and unhappy, but we later see that he is scared and sad. This was especially prevalent in the way he carried himself in the long take after his apparent departure from the Camorra. Pasquale has a beautiful character development as well where we see that he leaves the life of crime and he is satisfied with himself. With Totò, we learn from his mother that his father is a criminal and so ever since he’s been born he has to have dealt with seeing the crime so he grew up with it. Lastly with the boys, we see a youthful playfulness and how they reenact scarface or these movies or how they shoot guns off into the sunset, just trying to have fun, trying to enjoy a childhood that was likely robbed from them because how they grew up which is why they turned to the Camorra and became criminals. Lastly, I wanted to talk about Roberto. He was another tragic character who’s true intentions we learn only in the last few scenes. He was instrumental in the organization of the waste dumps and we see that his humanity shows in the end. With the scene with the peaches, he is told to dump them because the ground they came from is polluted, this makes him angry and leads him to leave. This also shows the hypocrisy of the other mafioso who throws away the peaches but doesn’t care about the fact that many people are eating those and they don’t have the luxury of throwing them away. The film does a beautiful job of taking a sordid topic and weaving it with positive notes, showing that it is possible to leave and that the world would be all the better for it.
I found Gomorrah to be an interesting addition to our canon of Mafia portrayals in cinema, as it shows the violent unavoidable reality of the organization within the context of contemporary Italy. In just the opening sequence, we are exposed to the intentionality of the Mafia as several cold-blooded murders are carried out in a tanning salon. The film follows several individual accounts united by the Camorra’s role as an instrument in what the reading calls the regulation of the economy. I hoped these stories would visually connect at the end, but instead, we are left with a closing text that reminds us that we are watching a movie based on true events. Similar to Angela, this film employs several neorealist techniques, including hand-held camera work and a series of long takes, that create a documentary aesthetic; it still felt like the director was pushing the boundaries of neorealism, as the camera movement felt overtly exaggerated and sometimes dizzying. Stylistically, the film features camera angles ranging from close-ups, wide shots, and high-angle shots resembling Brian De Palma’s Untouchables- It wouldn’t be surprising if the director took direct inspiration from De Palma as specific quotes from Scarface and having the World As Your Own are referenced by Marco and Circo. Interestingly, unlike Angela, several of these scenes are interrupted by sudden, unsuspected bursts of gun violence. I’m unsure if it was intentional, but sound played an immense role in the Mise en Scène; I found certain background noises, such as gunshots and dialogue to be extremely clear and pronounced.
As we have witnessed time and time again, the Irishman portrays the story of yet another tragic gangster, an isolated man broken by years of crude ambition and betrayal. Frank Sheeran begins his career by stealing and selling meat to local gangsters. As he is introduced into the Bufalino crime family, he hears the phrase “I Heard You Paint Houses,” a euphemism for killing–demonstrating how not only commonplace murder was but also how desensitized it became. Frank becomes introduced to Jimmy Hoffa and ultimately becomes his bodyguard and most trusted confidant. After Hoffa is arrested, his position is taken over by yet another gangster–showing the inevitable rise and fall from power and how these actors, despite their worship of violence as a means for material success, are always doomed for a tragic ending. Following his release from prison, Hoffa attempts to regain control of the Teamsters Union, but the Bufalino Family tells Frank that Hoffa “has to go.” In the Detroit House Scene, Frank murders Hoffa while simultaneously losing his relationship with his daughter, who shared a close bond with Hoffa. In the final scenes of the movie, Frank is old and alone and dies with only his demons in his mind. Frank witnessed the cost of power and the betrayal that comes along with it. Much like in The Godfather Part III, Michael witnesses the death of his daughter. This devastating protagonist has achieved what they thought success to be, only to discover that they have nothing and will die alone and hated. Like many of the other films we have watched, the Irishman is the penultimate culmination of regret, mortality, and betrayal and shows the corrupting nature of the mafia and the toll that evil takes on the mind and soul in a true and brutal way.
Watching The Irishman kind of hit me in a way I didn’t expect. I thought I was sitting down for a typical Scorsese mob film: fast-paced, intense, maybe even a little glamorized. But instead, it felt slow, sad, and honestly kind of haunting. By the end, I wasn’t thinking about the crimes or the politics but I was thinking about how empty Frank’s life became. That final scene where he asks the priest to leave the door open just a little? That really stuck with me. It was like he was still hoping for some kind of connection, even after everything he’d done.
One thing that stood out was how much the film is about loyalty, and how complicated that can be. Frank was loyal to Hoffa, to Bufalino, to the union but that loyalty didn’t do anything for him. In fact, it ruined his relationships with his family and left him totally alone.
Another big theme was aging and regret. The movie doesn’t just show the rise and fall but it shows the long, slow aftermath. Watching these guys get old, fade into irrelevance, and deal with the consequences of their choices felt really real. It was quiet and sad. It made me think about how easy it is to live without thinking about the future, and how scary it is to imagine ending up alone.
Like what others have mentioned, the Irishmen stands out from other mafia movies we’ve seen in class by slowing everything down, in a thematic (and literal) sense. Where other films we’ve explored have been rapid, explosive, gaudy, and unhinged, the Irishmen is measured, quiet, and almost contemplative. It doesn’t romanticize the mob lifestyle or even dramatize it. It instead focuses on memory, aging, and regret, topics that most other mafia movies don’t really acknowledge.
Stylistically, the movie shares classic Scorsese elements. Even those tools are used differently here, though. The violence is less stylized as if Scorsese wants to strip the mystique and show the emptiness beneath it all. The scene where Frank kills Jimmy Hoffa is long, awkward, and drained of emotion. The long takes and Scorsese’s usual visual style are still there, but they serve a different purpose. In earlier films, they created momentum. Here, they emphasize stillness and routine, especially in the nursing home scenes which are some of the more devastating moments in the mafia movies we’ve seen. Overall, the Irishmen feels like a reflection on the mafia genre itself, like it’s asking what all the violence and loyalty really amounted to in the end anyway.
I found The Irishman interesting but it was incredibly long and hard to fully pay attention to. It also wasn’t my favorite Scorsese movie. I think the progression of Scorsese movies have been quite interesting over the course of this semester. I often feel I can notice a Scorsese film when I see one, and though this film encapsulated similar features to other mafia films by Scorsese, it was also seemingly different. Some things I found similar were the integration of lighthearted music in somewhat serious moments. In this movie, one specific scene is when a character was pulling out of their driveway and someone opened fire at the car. While the viewer was concerned about the state of the driver, the music proved it wasn’t as serious, confusing the natural inclination of how the viewer typically feels when a possible murder is at stake. I’ve noticed that in other Scorsese movies, where it almost seems like Scorsese is trying to instill humor in a not-typically humorous situation, such as in Casino where Ginger is throwing poker chips all over the place and the music confuses the viewer as to what to think and how to feel. Likewise, this movie includes internal and external character dialogues, just like Goodfellas. However, one element that usually indicates a Scorsese movie is when obscene amounts of cocaine and alcohol are being consumed by the characters, correlating with their own downfall. In this movie, the character downfall wasn’t as obvious, but instead was Frank in the retirement home. It is interesting to see how this film stays true to Scorsese’s typical elements, while leaving out what I would consider the most impactful trope, the downfall of the protagonist.
Earlier in the course, I wrote a blog post discussing how the mafia movie plays with space and time, and that the distinction between “home” and “not home” for the mafioso represents their descent into mob life. I think “The Irishman” does this trope extremely well and is perhaps the first American mafia movie to make this tragic journey really apparent to the audience. From the start of the movie we see Frank embark on a journey, that being the journey from Philadelphia to Detroit. We see the map, we see his planned route, we see him loading up the car with bags and passengers. But this sequence is interrupted by the telling of his story which, to me, felt a little out of place at first. But upon continuing the film, I think we see how Frank’s home (Philadelphia) represents the old Frank, the true Frank, and while he tells the story of his descent into the mob, he is simultaneously driving further and further from that home and moving farther and farther away from his old self ultimately to land in Detroit and commit his “worst” crime. While the film is obviously profoundly American, I thought there were some elements that made clear reference back to the Italian tradition of the mafia movie, namely the travel and disorientation aspect. When Russell tells Frank to fly to Detroit to kill Hoffa, an event that total changes the tune of the film and Frank’s character, I was immediately reminded of the plane scene in “Il mafioso” and how the non-descript, disorienting journey marked Nino’s awakening about the true evils of the mafia and its expansive power, a realization mirrored in Frank when he sees that even his friends in the mob can and will go above him to get what they want regardless of what he says or who is in the way.