This Italian crime drama believably depicts a dark world without exploitative rape scenes

(Each week, I’m publishing a new pop culture essay from a freelancer. Remember: Your subscription fee helps me pay these freelancers for their efforts! This week: CT Marie on how the Italian crime drama Gomorrah depicts a world full of sexual violence without depicting that violence directly.)

Developed by Roberto Saviano from his book of the same name, the Italian crime drama Gomorrah follows the Savastano clan, a crime syndicate out of Naples, run by Pietro Savastano (Fortunato Cerlino). Over five action-packed seasons, all of which are streaming on HBO Max, Gomorrah mainly focuses on the transformation of Pietro’s only son, Genny Savastano (Salvatore Esposito). At first an innocent young man, Genny grows into a cold and calculating mafia boss. Ciro Di Marzio (Marco D’Amore), once Pietro’s trusted right-hand man and Genny’s best friend, eventually becomes Genny’s number one enemy.

The New York Times called Gomorrah one of the 30 best international TV shows of the 2010s, and with good reason. The series is gripping, brutal, and highly addictive. It is a story of loyalty, family, betrayal, patricide, and friendship.

But the series also has some fascinating things to say about the roles of men and women in criminal organizations. Women and men are not equal in the violent landscape of Gomorrah. They die equally, and physical violence is depicted often. Both men and women frequently die in the series, but the show treats sexual violence differently. As an audience, we know rape and sexual assault exist, and both could happen to the show's women characters. But the show never depicts such violence. And that choice is striking in a TV landscape where sexual violence is often treated exploitatively.

Gomorrah doesn’t shy away from other forms of violence. There are several graphic shootout scenes, and viewers witness the murder of many characters. The series blunts the impact of violence against women, however. The murders of female characters are never focused on or framed in close-up. Yet despite this distancing effect, many of these moments are devastating, thanks to the show's larger themes. The majority of the women in this show know that death can be just around the corner for them and their children. They are forced to play the game to survive, and even when they outsmart their enemies, they can’t seem to escape their ends. The show’s most graphic scenes of violence are reserved for men.

‎Even when Gomorrah features sexual violence in its storytelling, the show suggests it rather than directly depicting it. For example, the third episode of Gomorrah’s third season follows Ciro, who left Italy and is now working for a Bulgarian crime syndicate. In the episode, young women, victims of sex trafficking, are stashed in apartments where their passports are confiscated and where Ciro informs them that they are not allowed to leave. Ciro is confronted by a young Albanian woman who pleads with him for a phone to call home in one apartment. At first, Ciro refuses to help, but later in the episode, he witnesses this woman being humiliated by his boss’s son, who treats her like a plaything. The son orders her to lie down on the bed, something we see in a wide shot, and then the scene cuts away. It is apparent throughout the scene why these women were brought to Bulgaria, and we know what happens to the Albanian woman who is ordered to lie on the bed. Yet we don’t have to see what happens to know what happens.

And rather than treating sexual violence in an exploitative fashion, the show also uses that moment to further its storytelling in other ways. After the scene in question, Ciro has a change of heart. He kills his Bulgarian bosses and helps the young woman escape back to Albania, where he gives her money and a phone. He returns to Italy. In this episode, Ciro, often a monster, saves a woman from a life she didn’t want to live. But Gomorrah understands that doesn't make him a savior. He is not entirely evil, but he is far from good. Gomorrah depicts a man who has sold his soul yet is still capable of kindness.

Gomorrah's interest in women's lives as they intersect with the criminal world also means the series introduces strong and influential female bosses. Season four focuses on Patrizia Santore (Cristiana Dell’Anna) and her rise to power. She first worked as an informant for Pietro Savastano and became his lover. Yet when Genny announces his departure from Naples, he leaves his control and drug management in the Napoli suburb of Secondigliano to Patrizia.

The season also introduces the Levante clan, a religious crime family that believes women should only be homemakers and should say very little. After Patrizia becomes romantically involved with Levante family member Michelangelo, his father and brothers are enraged. They disapprove of Patrizia because of her background and because she defies the role they think women should stay in. However, the undermining of Patrizia is not carried out via malicious actions but via cruel words. Even when a woman has power in Gomorrah, it is challenged and eventually taken away from her.

Gomorrah's non-depiction of sexual violence is a rarity in TV series of its caliber. The series is a complex television show packed with violence and consequence. The characters are capable of monstrous things, yet there is no absolute good or evil in the series. Instead, every character acts out of a desperate need to survive, struggling for power and prominence in a world where the rules and who makes them constantly change. Every viewer who watches this series knows that it would make sense for sexual violence to happen in this world. Yet while we know it does, viewers are spared witnessing such incidents.

‎That choice makes Gomorrah an intriguing outlier in the modern TV drama landscape. Obviously, scenes of rape and sexual violence will exist in film and television. But when those scenes exist, they should be justified. For instance, when the new husband of Games of Thrones character Sansa Stark raped her on their wedding night in one episode of that show's fifth season, viewers’ outrage at the scene’s perceived exploitativeness was pronounced. Indeed, the reaction was so massive that it prompted a wave of pieces about how the show had finally gone too far.

Of course, plenty of shows find ways to depict sexual violence in ways that are integral to their storytelling. For instance, in one episode of The Sopranos, an unknown assailant rapes Dr. Melfi in a stairwell. The scene is a crucial moment for the overall story of the series and Dr. Melfi as a character.

But it's also worth considering the weight of these scenes on viewers, some of whom may have a low threshold for watching sexual violence onscreen. For instance, I was not prepared for that Sopranos scene and found it too disturbing to watch ever again. I love The Sopranos and have rewatched several episodes many times. But I skip that one every time.

The simple fact is that no matter how well a rape scene is done, no matter how essential it is to the show's story, some portion of the show's viewership won't be able to watch it. That's what makes Gomorrah such a fascinating counterpoint to the idea that this kind of serious storytelling needs to depict the sexual violence inherent in such a dark and gritty world. Gomorrah demonstrates that it is possible to tell a blood-soaked, tragic tale of crime and violence without resorting to cheap and exploitative depictions of sexual violence against women. The show is mesmerizing, addictive, and thought-provoking, and it takes you on a journey through a dark world, all without explicitly depicting sexual violence.

That choice is in keeping with the show's ultimate decision to suggest that some hopefulness is warranted, here and there. In the end, Gomorrah offers a possibility of escape for those trapped in this world of chaos and bloodshed. In the penultimate scene of the series finale, Genny’s wife and child flee from the crime and violence of their home life. We don't know where they will end up. But we know that, finally, the innocent are spared.

Episodes is published twice per week. Mondays alternate between a free edition on various topics and a subscriber-supported edition where I recap TV shows of interest. Fridays offer pop culture thoughts from freelance writers. The Friday edition and the biweekly recaps are only available to subscribers. Suggest topics for future installments via email or on Twitter. Read more of my work at Vox.