Cast: Johnny Depp, Joel Edgerton, Benedict Cumberbatch, Jesse Plemons, Kevin Bacon, Dakota Johnson, Peter Sarsgaard
Directed by: Scott Cooper
122 mins
FBI’s Ten Most Wanted once, apparently, included the protagonist of Black Mass, one James “Whitey” Bulger as runner-up on the list to Osama Bin Laden. A part bio-pic of this notorious Boston baddie is director Scott Cooper’s project, finally hurtling Johnny Depp into a role worthy of his talent. Black Mass tells the true story of this tough Irish-origin crime boss who rose to power in the 1970s/80s. Early in this era, John Connolly (Joel Edgerton) was an aspirational FBI operative tasked with a less than cushy number – bringing down the mafia no less. In naively attempting to fulfill this aim, Connolly asked for help from one of the cosa nostra’s least chummy foes, Whitey Bulger – a balding, piercing-eyed cold, calculating killer. Whilst developing this alliance and simultaneously wiping out the competition, through the association with Connolly, Bulger’s relative invincibility grew at pace.
A familiar tale of
violence emerges here and it has to be stated, some of the content is
borderline-gratuitous gut-wrenching stuff. Bulger is/was a blood-thirsty
psychopath with a pathological sense of his own immortality in as much as he would gun down
people in broad daylight with no disguise, and adopt an almost carefree
saunter as he exited the crime scene, confident in the knowledge that there would be no punishment for his actions. The involvement of the FBI with these vicious
villains gives the film’s narrative an intriguing extra layer as it blurs the
lines between good and bad, in a way that goes beyond the usual payoffs and
crooked cops. Connolly first approaches Bulger out of both a sense of loyalty
toward his old neighbourhood and his own lust for power and recognition in the
job, and the relationship serves to shield Bulger and his Winter Hill Boys from
suffering any consequences for their criminal behaviour.
From the outset, Bulger is quite a terrifying character. Still and measured,
ominously calculating, he commands his territory, demanding loyalty and respect
from everyone around him, with failure to adhere attracting vengeful punishment
for even the slightest hint of insolence. Although kind to old ladies, and generous
when it serves his purposes, nothing is truly beneath him. Depp’s performance
is absolutely chilling, elevating the film beyond the typical mobster fare.
With his icy blue eyes, his sinister swagger, and his cold, quiet stare, Depp
embodies the character’s pure evil—and each close-up is sure to make your skin
crawl. It’s the kind of spellbinding performance that’s sure to haunt and
although many of the story’s elements have been seen before, Black Mass is
still intense and gritty enough to keep audiences captivated throughout.
Director: Nicholas Hytner
104 mins
Twiddling around with his own stage play/memoir and preparing it for its arrival on that big shiny silvery screen, this delightful tale from Alan Bennett, offers the hugely enjoyable trick of suggesting that he is in fact, prevaricating with the thought of actually writing a true story from his own experiences. For it is indeed true that a less-than-fragrant vagrant – a homeless and indeed roofless woman set up residence in what may have been deemed a parking space adjacent to chez Alan, and ensconced herself in an increasingly manky motor-home for three-quarters of two decades.
As Mary Shepherd, the wondrous Maggie Smith embodies this odious rapscallion perfectly, and beguiles and confuses the on-screen Bennett in a hugely entertaining film, ably directed by the wonderful Nicholas Hytner. The ageing urchin Shepherd first pulls up in Camden, London back in 1970 in unspectacular fashion, by depositing her scruffy vehicle further down the street from its eventual ‘home’ and resting place. The locals peek out - and in time, and curiosity, wander over, all terrified out of their wits that she’ll throttle up the ignition and remove the van closer to their own abode. However, local celebrity playwright Alan Bennett is slightly warmer to this senior battleaxe of the highway and kindly or possibly naively, permits old Mary to shunt the vehicle up to his own adjacent driveway, on the condition that it’s only for a short time. If only he’d known.
As the years pass, and the grungy immobile home attracts mountains of refuse, plastic bags of who-knows-what and countless battered containers of unspeakable content under its collapsing body, Alan, although keen not to pry too much – begins to extract titbits of information from her about Mary Shepherd’s past. Gradually revelations come forth and she releases details of her colourful life history as a pianist, nun and renegade. Alex Jennings turns in a lovely, dual-Alan performance, as we bear witness to the Bennett who writes - and the Bennett who simply inhabits the home, almost as a married couple with the constant sniping and bickering regarding the recalcitrant squatter. Maggie Smith, is, unsurprisingly, effortlessly magnificent in the title role. In a bravura display of acting she is by turn, witty, obstreperous, warm, deeply moving, cantankerous, delightful and charming. The whole film is a joy from beginning to end.