Mare Fuori

You can feel the three different directions in the respective seasons of “Mare Fuori”. Dry, raw and beautiful the first, signed by Carmine Elia; the second is engaging but melodramatic, where you can feel the feminine hand of Milena Cocozza; too flooded with tears and hugs the third, in my opinion the worst, directed by Ivan Silvestrini.

Mare Fuori is popular because it reverses all perspectives. True freedom is the IPM, it seems to tell us, the confined space of the juvenile penitentiary overlooking the water. Everything happens in there but especially good things happen: inner upheavals, repentance, growth. Outside, however, there is evil, there are evil people who force you to commit crimes, to become what you don’t want to be in your heart, to end up crushed by the gears of the Camorra system. “It is full of infamous people outside”. To the point that it is not clear why prize permits continue to be granted when, once they leave, the boys willy-nilly perform the cruellest acts or risk their lives. “We are freer in here,” Naditza says to Filippo. In prison, in fact, the differences are smoothed out, you become equal, the Neapolitan gypsy can dream of love with Chiattillo, the Milanese rich kid.

The most fascinating figure is not, precisely, the Milanese pretty boy, however courageous and determined he is, but Carmine di Salvo, son of the boss Wanda, who tries to free himself from the deterministic slime that envelops him and binds him, which prevents him from living a simple and honest life, which kills his young and innocent wife. Mediterranean, with full lips and a roguish, tormented and kind gaze, he is the true hero of the penitentiary. Carmine goes through all kinds of rebellion and suffering. He has a father-son relationship with the commander — another romantic character — a tender bond with his little daughter, whom he called Futura not surprisingly, a sort of bromance with Chiattillo, a close friend willing to do anything to save him, and a West Side passion Story for Rosa Ricci, scion of the opposing clan.

Opposite of Carmine is Viola, absolute evil, evil that is an end in itself, embodied evil, for whom one does not feel compassion. When she falls from the prison roof, no one feels sorry for her and all viewers breathe a sigh of relief.

The series attracts because it gives an explanation to evil, always the fruit of another evil. Because it implies a redemption, even for the most atrocious acts, such as stabbing a mother or raping a girl. You only need to repent, to cry and to hug one another, you only need just not really wanting it. And here, perhaps, the danger arises, the wrong message, that is that everything can be forgiven, forgotten, archived, relegated to the past, even the most heinous action in Erica and Omar style. Only today has value, there is only the present and a dreamed future. Thus evil is belittled in favor of other values, greatly exalted in today’s television series, be they fantasy, history, detective or drama: friendship, loyalty and love matter more than murder, violence and blood feuds, and intentions are more strong than action.

“Mare Fuori” also suggests that any of us can find ourselves in the situation of these children, laid bare and forced to commit a crime to end up confined to the limbo of a prison, a place more of the soul than physical, where differences cancel each other out, where good and evil are magnified or flattened, where alliances are formed and eternal hatreds are sworn.

A succession of strong, well-drawn and unforgettable characters: the director, the commander, Carmine, Filippo, Naditza, Cardiotrap, Pirucchio, Pino, Ciro, Kubra, Edoardo and all the others are destined to remain in our hearts, as well as the winding alleys of a Naples overlooking a sea that can stay outside, yes, but also pierce your soul.