Robert De Niro is a force of nature, even in the worst of films. Taking on dual roles in The Alto Knights, Barry Levinson's first theatrical release in 10 years, De Niro proves to be this mob story's greatest asset. As the director gets lost in the plot's details, the actor's intense, double-edged performance instills this biographical crime thriller with its necessary conflict.
In his 40-plus year career, Levinson has dabbled in every genre including crime, political satire, comedy and drama — and, intentionally or not, he lets previous tropes from films such as Rain Man, Wag the Dog, Diner and Good Morning, Vietnam lurk like ghosts here. In The Alto Knights, he returns specifically to Bugsy's mafia setting. It's not a repetition (Bugsy had a lighter tone), but there's a distinct echo.
Based on true events, the film recounts the story of two of New York's most notorious organized crime bosses, Frank Costello (Robert De Niro) and Vito Genovese (De Niro again), as they vie for control of the city's streets in the 1950s. They rose up in the ranks together and were close friends, but now they have different ideas about how to direct the future of the mafia business. Consequently, they have become bitter enemies.
The Alto Knights opens in spectacular fashion with a hit on Frank, as ordered by Vito. Having survived, Frank now wants to retire from his life of crime, something that his former friend cannot abide. Vito previously had to step away because of some legal troubles and handed the operation over to Frank. Now, he wants it back. Frank, who legitimized some of this mob family's dealings, is concerned by the direction that his rival will lead the organization in, and he resists. Vito wants to expand into the drug trade, and there are many associates who vehemently oppose.
The Alto Knights' story is reminiscent of previous mobster films, especially with regard to familial and friendship bonds: Sergio Leon's Once Upon a Time in America, Frances Ford Coppola's Godfather trilogy, and of course many of Martin Scorsese's gangster films, including Goodfellas (written by Nicholas Pileggi, who also penned The Alto Knights). Everything is buddy-buddy until it's not.
What made this subgenre so great in the first place was each director's stylistic sensibilities. But in The Alto Knights, Levinson has nothing new to say. The filmmaker fails to develop the depth of the loyalties in this brotherhood. Each of the aforementioned films had a large cast of characters and a lot of narrative detail but, they also were able to keep relationships and characters distinct and memorable. In this film, Levinson adopts a conventional structural and visual approach that can be numbing at times.
Levinson focuses so much on the ordinary — the conversations, the actions, the strategizing — which prevents him from developing any kind of arc. He just can't dig deeper. Levinson depends too much on the script: a lot of saying and not enough showing. As he focuses his camera and his attention on so many mundane details of life, the film unfolds mostly as a drama and not so much as a crime thriller. These are not run-of-the-mill people, but in Levinson's hands even their angriest conversations hold little tension.
In an interesting stylistic choice, Levinson adopts a documentary style for the flashbacks and the personal recollections that lead to the ultimate break in Frank and Vito's relationship. In doing so, Levinson conjures Frank's version: these sequences centre on his direct address to the camera as if he is being interviewed, or perhaps even creating a personal narrative. But the director doesn't create any real sense of their past love for each other, or how growing animosity become hatred. He only uses these segments to hint at it.
It's a creative use of black-and-white archival and recreated footage as real-life events of this story blend with this character's recollections. But since the viewer is sometimes given only snippets that flash across the screen, the inherent promise eventually fizzles out.
The film is at its best when the two lead characters meet: De Niro fighting De Niro. He brilliantly conjures two distinct characters and can even be forgiven (if not applauded in a tongue-in-cheek way) for his Joe Pesci imitation as Vito — a fun reference to the film's subgenre predecessors. De Niro's performance is an incredible feat of interaction between actor and self, and clearly his performance inspires Levinson most, mixing quick edits with tense close-ups.
Other characters, though, just fade into each other. Some disappear into the background as the weight of their stereotypes crush them. Debra Messing stands out in her portrayal as Frank's wife, Bobbie Costello, a wise and level-headed ally on whom he relies (a welcome relief from the ditzy and untrustworthy dames typically written as a mobster's wife).
In The Alto Knights, the dynamics of the many members of this crime family get lost in the details. Eventually, these mob bosses simply become bickering old men. And in a film where there isn't a lot of mob violence (i.e. action), what else is there to rely on for a thrill?
Sure, it's always interesting to watch the bad boys and their unlikely friendships, to witness the camaraderie among renegades. But in the end, The Alto Knights merely chronicles a series of miscommunications that simply amounts to a pile of bruised male egos.