Place and pacing are what Mafia: The Old Country does best. The artists and programmers at Hangar 13 have crafted an evocative and unflinching rendering of Sicily at the turn of the twentieth century: dappled lemon groves; vineyards snaking down steep hills; mines filled with indentured slaves, every face and fruit bowl lit with the exquisite, high-drama flair of a Caravaggio painting. The scriptwriters and narrative designers have kept up their end of the bargain, producing an ebbing, flowing mob story which puts as much emphasis on quietness as cracking skulls. Place and pacing are symbiotic: it’s through languorous car drives and trotting horse rides that we come to appreciate the setting. In almost every chapter, the volcanic Mount Etna smokes ominously in the distance, the skybox wielded as a perfect visual metaphor for the violence bubbling just below the surface of this picturesque island.