Portobello is a true story that is more incredible than fiction. Marco Bellocchio brings to HBO Max the series about Enzo Tortora, the man who had Italy in the palm of his hand until he was "eaten" by the system.
Imagine if, during the absolute media reign of Oprah Winfrey or, say, the legendary David Letterman, the police broke into their apartment and accused them of running an international drug cartel. The reason? Because someone tweeted that they wanted a shorter prison sentence. Does this sound like the plot of a failed black comedy? Unfortunately not. This is Italy in the early 1980s – the land of wide shoulder straps, lush hairstyles and Enzo Tortore, a man whose downfall was so brutal and absurd that it would be hard to believe if it weren't real. HBO Max brings us the series "Portobello" on February 20, which will probably become your new "binge" obsession.
In 1982, Enzo Tortora was not just a TV presenter; he was an institution. He was the face of Friday nights, the man who crammed an incredible 28 million Italians into a single living room – via a cathode ray tube. These are not numbers, this is religion. His show Portobello was a mix of market, confessional and circus, where the nation held its breath for the most bizarre challenge in the history of television: would a green parrot finally utter the word “Portobello”? Ironically, the parrot remained stubbornly silent, while in the courts, people who should have remained silent began to “sing” – thus triggering one of the biggest judicial scandals in the history of the “boot”.
National Hypnosis and the Silent Parrot
If you didn't live in Italy in the 1980s (or at least where we could catch the RAI signal), it's hard to imagine the phenomenon of the Portobello show. It was a time when television still had the power to unite a nation. Tortora, with an elegance that even James Bond would envy and a diction sharper than a razor, was the absolute ruler of the airwaves. President Pertini called him "the commander of the republic". He was untouchable. Or so he thought.
While all of Italy was begging the confused bird to speak, a storm was brewing behind the scenes that had nothing to do with entertainment electronics. The Neapolitan Camorra, shaken by the Irpinia earthquake and internal fighting, needed a distraction. And what better way to do it than to sacrifice the king of television?
When reality becomes Kafka on steroids
The story takes a twist that would make Franz Kafka blush. Giovanni Pandico, the right-hand man of the mafia godfather Raffaele Cutolo, in his cell – probably while glaring angrily at Portobello and realizing that the parrot would not speak again – decided to become a penitent. He sold the police the story that Tortora, this polished gentleman in a suit, was actually a high-class drug dealer.
No evidence. No logic. Just the word of a criminal looking for a way out. And the Italian justice system? Instead of smiling, on June 17, 1983, at 4 a.m., they knocked on the door of Tortor's hotel in Rome. They didn't come for an autograph. They took him away in handcuffs, in front of the cameras that he once controlled, but now devoured him. From national hero to "monster" in a single morning.
Bellocchio: Master of Italian Trauma
The directorial baton of this masterpiece is held by Marco Bellocchio, a film veteran who has built his career on poking at the open wounds of Italian society (just think of The Kidnapping or The Traitor). Bellocchio doesn't make "crime films." He makes operatic dramas about power, madness, and the system.
Fabrizio Gifuni shines in the lead role, not playing Tortore – he becomes Tortore. His transformation from a charismatic leader to a broken but proud man fighting for his honor in the cage of absurd bureaucracy is worthy of every award there is.
Why should you watch “Portobello”?
Because this isn't just a story about a bygone era. It's a chillingly timely reminder of how quickly public opinion can turn, how devastating media lynching can be, and how fragile truth is when it's opposed by the interests of the powerful. Plus, the visuals of the 80s are simply "top" - all that aesthetic that hipsters are unsuccessfully copying today is authentic here.
Verdict: Prepare for anger, tears, and admiration. “Portobello” is a series that will be talked about long after the closing credits (and the parrot) have fallen silent.
