"Donnie Brasco" is a tragedy, and the opening credits alone tell us this: the keening violins, the somber blank-and white photography, the close-up of Al Pacino's eyes. It's a far cry from films like "Pulp Fiction," which mined similar territory by focusing on a gang of criminal lowlifes. But one of the funnier scenes in Mike Newell's excellent film comes just after a particularly brutal beating, Scorsese-style (people kicking someone on the ground, just like De Niro always does): we see Pacino trying to hammer a parking meter open, trying to get at the quarters. But they're not just a bunch of amateur robbers; they're part of the Mob, after all, which means we get to kick around meatier themes like honesty and betrayal and honor, et cetera. (I guess Newell did explore similar themes in "Four Weddings and a Funeral," but I'm moving off track here.)
Which brings us to the movie title: "Donnie Brasco" is the alias of undercover FBI agent Joseph Pistone, played with such clenched-jaw determination by Johnny Depp that it's easy to forget he was once just the baby-faced cop on TV's "21 Jump Street." (In this film he reminds the viewer that his acting abilities long outstripped such similar pretty boys as Brad Pitt and Ethan Hawke.) Pacino plays Lefty Ruggiero, one of the film's middle-aged losers, who unknowingly takes Brasco under his wiseguy wing. The audience knows, of course, that the son would have to betray the father, and it's this tension, along with Brasco's inner torment, the close attention to garish ‘70s detail and a fully fleshed-out subplot about the Pistone family, which fuels the screenplay, written by Paul Attanasio, creator of "Homicide: Life on the Streets". (There are two other "Homicide" regulars in "Donnie Brasco.") There's a lot of visual humor, too, suffusing the scenes when the gang flies down to Florida, and behave (and dress) badly.
My friend Madeline has this theory about Al Pacino: that he tends to overact when his fellow cast members are bad actors. Case in point: Chris O'Donnell in the awful "Scent of a Woman." But this time Pacino gives a marvelously understated performance -- one of his best -- instead of booming out his lines. Not a single "hoohah" uttered, folks. And he gets bonus points, too, for actually daring to wear an ugly red warm-up suit.
Posted by the wily filipino at November 10, 2002 08:50 PM