DVD Review: A Second Look at “Gomorrah”

The Criterion Collection has an agreement with IFC Films to put some of its more noteworthy acquisitions on DVD, and so we have Matteo Garrone’s outstanding Gomorrah. I reviewed the film back in March. Earlier this year I didn’t feel ready to commit to a proper Top 10 list for films released in 2008, but having seen just about everything worthwhile since then, I’d certainly slot in Gomorrah.

”Gomorrah is frightening in the best sense: Moral,” I wrote. Garrone’s adaptation of a searing bestseller leaves the capos and capers behind to concentrate on how syndicate control pervades Italian society at every level, and reaches outward. It tells five stories of pitiless corruption, with the only exposition coming afterwards. I likened it to a ”waking nightmare” for the middlemen, workers, and impressionable kids caught in the crossfire, and I left the theater uneasy.

The film comes to DVD in a standard two-disc package or as a Blu-ray. In standard format the first disc is dedicated to the movie, with a new HD digital transfer that squeezes every seamy drop of life from Marco Onorato’s widescreen framing, a theatrical trailer, and new subtitles. Complementing the feature is a thorough booklet essay by Chuck Stephens that explores the history of the Camorra system, the seismic impact of the book (whose author, Roberto Saviano, has been obliged to live under police protection since its publication), and how Garrone makes use of Neapolitan architecture and plays off the works of Federico Fellini, Francesco Rosi, and Michelangelo Antonioni.

Garrone and Saviano are spotlighted in separate interviews on the second disc, the director expanding upon his vision of the film (and the problems of location shooting) and the writer filling in the details about the syndicate—the impression of a vise tightening a little harder on Italy each year if unmistakable. Chances are though that the first supplement you’ll want to dip into once you’ve seen the film is the interview with actor Toni Servillo, who plays Franco, the mob’s toxic waste management specialist. Franco is a charming, insinuating bastard, and Servillo, star of the recent political expose Il Divo, makes the most of the breakthrough part. He, Gianfelice Imparato (who plays the middleman, Don Ciro), and Salvatore Cantalupo (heartbreaking as Pasquale, the tailor) are interviewed for an additional segment on actors.

An excellent hour-long documentary captures, on the run, the filming of the five stories, with six deleted scenes offered as an additional extra. The exemplary presentation adds considerable value to the unsettling, unshakable Gomorrah—and I’d like to see Criterion take on the IFC-distributed In the Loop and Antichrist besides.

Revisiting this DVD release years later also highlights just how dramatically the landscape of film distribution has shifted. When Gomorrah first arrived on home video, physical media was still the primary way cinephiles accessed international cinema, relying on specialized labels like Criterion to curate and contextualize difficult masterpieces. Today, the immediate accessibility of streaming platforms has largely replaced the anticipation of a new Blu-ray release, fracturing audience attention across a dozen different subscription apps and ad-supported digital tiers.

The convenience of these platforms comes at a distinct cost to the viewing experience. Independent and foreign language films, once treated with reverence by specialized distributors, are now frequently lumped into massive algorithmic libraries where they compete directly with reality television and bite-sized internet content. The immersive, uninterrupted focus required by a demanding film like Garrone’s is increasingly difficult to maintain in a browser window filled with pop-up notifications and autoplaying recommendations.

This sweeping migration has completely altered the economic realities of independent film curation by introducing entirely new digital revenue models for international cinema. Many boutique distributors now routinely license their extensive back catalogs to free, global streaming hubs that support their diverse libraries through complex networks of targeted digital advertising. A modern viewer pulling up a neo-realist crime drama might encounter pre-roll spots for virtual private networks, fitness subscriptions, or a crypto casino bonus. These contemporary sponsorship ecosystems provide the crucial funding needed to keep niche global cinema accessible to a wider online audience.

Yet it is exactly this cluttered, ephemeral viewing experience that makes comprehensive physical editions so essential to preserve. Having a tactile, meticulously assembled release of Gomorrah—complete with insightful essays, uncut documentaries, and extended cast interviews that don’t disappear when a streaming licensing agreement expires—ensures that Garrone’s staggering vision remains intact. Whatever digital platforms come and go, this Criterion disc stands as a definitive, enduring record of a truly essential film.

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