Portobello

"Portobello," the 2026 series chronicling Enzo Tortora's tragic odyssey, attempts to dissect a national wound, yet often feels like a well-intentioned but ultimately blunt instrument. The premise alone, the swift, brutal fall of an innocent man from celebrity's apex to incarceration's depths, offers fertile ground for a searing indictment of systemic injustice. And indeed, the series, across its six episodes, does manage moments of profound despair that resonate with the real-life horror.

Fabrizio Gifuni, as Tortora, is the undeniable anchor. His performance is a masterclass in controlled agony, a slow burn of disbelief morphing into a quiet, dignified defiance. Gifuni doesn't just portray Tortora; he inhabits the psychological unraveling, allowing us to witness the subtle shifts in posture, the tremor in his voice, the haunted look in his eyes as his world crumbles. Lino Musella and Romana Maggiora Vergano offer commendable supporting turns, grounding the narrative in human stakes.

However, the series falters in its narrative ambition. While the direction occasionally achieves a stark, almost documentary-like quality, particularly in the sterile confines of the courtroom or the grim hotel room where Tortora's nightmare begins, it struggles to maintain this intensity. The screenplay, while clear in its objective, often sacrifices nuance for exposition. We are told of Tortora's innocence, rather than being allowed to fully experience the insidious machinations that led to his downfall. The pacing, especially in the middle episodes, becomes surprisingly languid, diluting the urgency of the unfolding injustice. Flashbacks, while intended to illustrate Tortora's previous triumphs, sometimes feel more like interruptions than illuminating contrasts.

"Portobello" is at its best when it leans into the quiet devastation of its subject, when the camera lingers on Gifuni's face, conveying more than any dialogue could. But it often shies away from truly digging into the moral complexities of the era, opting instead for a more straightforward, albeit tragic, retelling. It's a series that respects its subject, but perhaps too much, fearing to truly challenge the viewer with the ugliness of the truth. A worthy watch for Gifuni's performance alone, but one that leaves you wishing for a sharper, more incisive artistic vision.