Review
Imagine the cobblestone alleys of Naples dripping with blood, the sound of motorcycle engines echoing like war drums, and every handshake hiding a blade. Contraband takes you deep into the underworld where smugglers rule the docks, the police are either on the take or on the slab, and revenge is the only currency that spends. When Fabio Testi’s smuggler kingpin tries to play it straight, he finds himself in a meat grinder of sadistic gangsters, heroin shipments, and double-dealing scum who would slit your throat for the change in your pocket. Director Lucio Fulci paints the city as a rotting carcass swarming with vultures, and he’s not shy about showing every festering wound. This is not just a crime film, it’s a gauntlet of brutality. Faces are blown off in point-blank shotgun blasts. Torture scenes linger until you start to wonder if the camera operator needs psychological help. Every meeting between gangsters feels like a prelude to a bloodbath, and Fulci makes sure the payoff is worth the wait. Contraband is the smell of gunpowder, diesel fumes, and cheap whiskey. It’s the sound of a Beretta clicking empty and the thud of a body hitting the concrete. It’s a reminder that in Fulci’s Naples, there’s no such thing as justice. There's only vengeance, paid for in screams.