The promise of Robert De Niro playing not one but two infamous gangsters might enough to tempt fans of Goodfellas or the Godfather trilogy into seeing The Alto Knights. But be warned. While the promise of double De Niro is tempting, the movie itself is inexplicable.
On paper, The Alto Knights sounds terrific. The real-life story of Vito Genovese and Frank Costello, two childhood friends turned rival Mob bosses, is peppered with the classic elements of gangster movies, from macho face-offs, sharp-tongued wives, vicious betrayals, a criminal conspiracy, and merciless, violent murder. Who better to draft such an adapted screenplay than Nicholas Pileggi, the author and co-screenwriter behind Martin Scorsese's Goodfellas and Casino? And who better to headline than recurring Scorsese collaborator/iconic tough guy Robert De Niro?
However, director Barry Levinson (Sleepers, Dope Thief) makes some absolutely befuddling choices in The Alto Knights. The potential promised by its talent is squandered in a completely confounding gangster flick.
Why is Robert De Niro playing two characters in The Alto Knights?
From the start, Vito Genovese and Frank Costello are depicted as very different kinds of gangsters, though they share a similar origin. These Italian immigrants became friends as young men, hanging around the Alto Knights Social Club in 1910s New York City. Associates of the notorious Lucky Luciano, both made their way in the city through criminal enterprises. However, by the 1930s, it was Genovese who was chosen to run the Family — that is, until a double-homicide investigation chased him back to Italy. Before he left, Genovese handed the reigns to his trusted friend, Costello, expecting to resume control upon his return.
However, in the intervening decades, Costello's leadership of the Mob was so successful that on top of becoming obscenely rich, he'd made enough political connections to achieve a sheen of respectability. In The Alto Knights, Frank is a suave philanthropist who attends glamorous charity balls with his wife Bobbie (Debra Messing), a chic Jewish socialite, on his arm. Meanwhile, Vito is a more Scorsese kind of gangster — close to the streets, gnawing on a cigar, spitting out threats and curse words with equal ease. His wife is a sultry Italian divorcée (Kathrine Narducci) that runs her nightclub with passion and a big mouth.
Frank is the kind of smooth criminal De Niro has played before in films like Scorsese's Killers of the Flower Moon, where his affluence and polite veneer hide an ocean of sins. Vito is more mercurial, the kind of primed-for-eruption character De Niro played in Taxi Driver or Goodfellas. So there's a curious experiment in having the octogenarian actor attempt to straddle this range of representation that he's managed across decades, all in one film.
Masterfully applied prosthetics distinguish Frank from Vito, as do the voices De Niro uses for them. Frank is more traditionally De Niro, with a low, husky, alert but world-weary delivery. Vito is higher pitched and sharper in cadence; frankly, it feels like a Joe Pesci impersonation. But there are enough shared physicalities in both stride and facial expressions — especially in a couple of scenes where the characters face off — that this double-casting feels like a stunt that doesn't pay off. It's just obvious it's the same guy, but why is less clear.
Perhaps Levinson couldn't decide which role his Wag the Dog collaborator would be best in and so went for both. Maybe he thought this dual-casting would build a message about these mafiosos, something along the lines of how far they grew apart from their common past — sort of a "there but for the grace of God go I" kind of a thing. However, if that were the case, you'd think Levinson would do the same for the flashbacks, casting the same actor to play both Young Frank and Young Vito. Instead, Luke Stanton Eddy and Antonio Cipriano play these roles, respectively, but even calling them roles feels like a stretch considering their screen time. Astonishingly, The Alto Knights engages less with flashbacks than it does with black-and-white staged photographs intercut with archival B-roll and egregious voiceover that barrels over everything.
The Alto Knights feels like a gangster movie with zero patience for its own story.
It is a truth universally accepted that gangster movies are allowed to be long. Goodfellas is two hours and 26 minutes. Casino is two hours and 58 minutes. The Godfather Part II is three hours and 22 minutes. Sure, some might grouse, but overall it's understood: That time is required not only to properly unravel the secretive lives and complicated criminal conspiracies of its anti-heroes, but also to allow audiences to experience the intoxicating confidence of being a mobster. For instance, the Goodfellas' long take winding through the Copacabana on Henry and Karen's first date allows us to walk in the gait of a gangster, experiencing the access, the power, and the thrill. Filmmakers need pace and time to build the intoxicating atmosphere that makes murder feel like an understandable trade-off.
By sharp contrast, The Alto Knights races through its story with a cluttered and haphazard structure that seems to predict audience restlessness, and instead causes it. For instance, the movie opens in media res, with the 1957 attempted hit on Frank Costello. Then, a voiceover from a calm Frank begins to explain what happened next and why the attempted murder happened at all. While you might be wondering if Frank is telling his story from beyond the grave, Levinson leaps to setting up who Frank and Vito are to each other through boring montages of the aforementioned B-roll and uninspired black-and-white flashbacks. It's a dizzying and dull structure that talks down to the audience instead of welcoming them in.
Voiceover can be compelling in a gangster movie, as Goodfellas proved. But here, it seems De Niro is given a third role — not so much as narrator but as a spackler trying earnestly to patch together the broken bits of this story into something sensible. Levinson's gratuitous use of voiceover papers over decades of important events and grisly homicides with little in the passing visuals to land their gravity.
Worse yet, Levinson — or perhaps Pileggi — becomes fixated on cross-cutting sequences, however unmotivated. Ideally, cutting from one situation to the other and back again would increase tension, showing how one incident will impact the other or paralleling how two characters have a shared point of impending threat. But in The Alto Knights, these crosscuts feel less about their relationships and more like the editor was told to trim 20 minutes from the film, whatever it took. So, gone are breaths, beats, and atmosphere. What's left is a gangster movie that feels forcefully sped up, causing little of its blows to land successfully. Which, considering the failed hit on Frank at the film's start, might be darkly fitting!
To Pileggi's credit, he crafts monologues that harken back to the greatness of Goodfellas and Casino, elucidating from Frank and Vito's perspectives the self-preservation aspect of the Italian Mafia in America. Surrounded by bigotry and rejection, the Mob was built to protect their own. However, while this argument's weak points has room to be explored in his previous films, The Alto Knights gives little more lip service to these ideas, leaning hard on De Niro's performance as the movie's structure crumbles around him. He is bolstered by a strong supporting cast, including Messing as Frank's shrewd wife, Narducci as Vito's volatile lover, The Sopranos' Matt Servitto as a frustrated Mob lawyer, Death to Smoochy's Michael Rispoli as a fired-up Frank loyalist, and Shōgun's Cosmo Jarvis as an easily flustered minion of Vito's. However, these engaging performances can't save The Alto Knights from sinking under the weight of Levinson's confounding direction.
In the long run, The Alto Knights will likely be remembered fondly as a bold risk for its central casting gambit. But considering the masterful storytellers involved here and the muddle of a Mafia movie that came from them, it's impossible to imagine The Alto Knights will be known for much more than its big swing and a bigger miss.
The Alto Knights opens in theaters March 21.
Topics Film
