Violent mobster James “Whitey” Bulger and his Winter Hill Gang ran the underworld in 1980s-era Boston.

Bulger commanded respect and loyalty from his inner circle and punished his enemies with swift, brutal efficiency. Exploiting the FBI through his inside agent John Connolly, and flanked by bruising henchman, Bulger presided over a reign of terror in Boston until his downfall in 1995.

The movie “Black Mass” tracks the rise and fall of Whitey Bulger, played by Johnny Depp. Bulger begins as a small-time player in Boston crime, rises to become a full-blown kingpin and then flees when FBI investigations decimate his gang.

Directed by Scott Cooper, “Black Mass” is a compelling stare into the abyss of Bulger’s life, wrought with personal tragedies, skewed morals and brutal executions. The film covers a lot of ground effectively; however, it hits a few stumbling blocks in terms of unexplored character threads and one-dimensional female characters, making for an entertaining, if at times frustrating, package.

The opening scene from “Black Mass” introduces us to the Boston mob’s code of silence with which Bulger shackles his followers and which, when broken, leads more often than not to a watery grave. The story is told through the occasional narration of Kevin Weeks (Jesse Plemons) and two other members of the Winter Hill Gang, Steve “The Rifleman” Flemmi (Rory Cochrane) and Johnny Martorano (W. Earl Brown). The audience soon discovers that between them, Flemmi and Martorano have murdered more than 30 people, but the director quickly chooses to turn his back on them in favor of a more in-depth exploration of Bulger’s and Connolly’s characters.

Depp’s performance as Bulger is reassuringly twisted and comfortingly murderous. His face is molded for the role, his artificial puffy cheeks, greasy hair, pointed nose and crooked, jagged teeth giving the impression of a great white shark. He brings the necessary violent unpredictability to the role, teetering between friendly local lad helping old ladies put away their shopping and murderous gangster.

Nowhere is this fine line represented better than in a scene at John Connolly’s (Joel Egerton) dinner table. As Bulger and Flemmi sit down to a social grill and a beer with Connolly and his fellow FBI agent John Morris, the air is so heavy with unease and tension, it could cut be cut with a steak knife.

What follows is an excellent display of the power that silence can hold in a scene, a power that legendary gangster movie director Martin Scorsese knows only too well. The scene around the dinner table is scarily similar to the infamous “Funny how?” sequence from Scorsese’s “Goodfellas,” as the maniacal cackling of Joe Pesci’s character Tommy DeVito mirrors that of Bulger.

Although “Black Mass” boasts an excellent cast besides Depp, most of it is underused. Benedict Cumberbatch plays Bulger’s brother Billy Bulger, however, his character and his relationship with Whitey are not explored in enough depth. The depiction of female characters in the film is a further problem. Bulger’s wife isn’t given enough screen time to make any impact, while Connolly’s wife, played by Julianne Nicholson, is only given one memorable scene.

However, the film’s careful attention to detail goes some way to redeeming it. When the audience first meets Bulger, he is drinking in his usual haunt “Triple O’s Lounge.” The camera then follows his gaze and focuses on Martorano’s fat, salty fingers as they scratch frantically in a bowl of peanuts before plunging into his mouth.

The director also sets up a transition in Bulger’s gangster status in both his clothing and his method of killing. After a few years he becomes more powerful, striding his territory in suits and sunglasses, strangling his victims with his bare hands. As Bulger heads closer to his downfall, he is dressed in a long black trench coat, a black turtleneck and a black hat. He also throttles his victims with a length of rope, showing he has lost the power and strength he once had.

Finally, he is depicted at the moment of his arrest in Santa Monica in 2011, dressed almost all in white, symbolizing his readiness to come clean and pay for the crimes he has committed.

– William Thorne

Published by William Thorne

Thorne is the prime director. He was previously the assistant A&E editor for the Theater | Film | Television beat.

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *