Killing Them Softly

Jackie and Frankie share quality time

 Let me first say that I liked this movie very much.

…but it’s an austere, sparse, mostly-quiet film, about angry, cynical, hard, desperate men, who are neither sentimental, nor forgiving.

At the outset we meet two petty criminals, Frankie and Russell (Scoot McNairy and Ben Mendelsohn; the latter convincing in the recent “the Place Beyond the Pines”), who are just scraping by. They are disheveled, looking like they haven’t showered in a week. What meager means they have is provided by walking dogs (who would trust their pet to either of these jamokes is another question). Beyond that, their prospects appear bleak.

Though reluctant about Russell’s erratic behavior, an acquaintance/mentor of Frankie’s (“Squirrel,” played by Vincent Curatola; Johnny Sack from the Sopranos) hatches a scheme for the inept pair to knock over an illegal card game, helmed by Markie Trattman (a pleasantly dialed-down Ray Liotta). As it happens, the game’s been hit before—by its host, no less—who lacked the good sense not to brag about it afterwards. They reason that, given its troubled history, Markie will be blamed again, while they’ll be free to split the spoils. Reasonable enough.

It’s abundantly clear to us well before the robbery, however, that the trio’s ambition clearly outstrips their questionable smarts, skill, experience, common sense, and ability to keep quiet. Russell recklessly uses heroin, then gets talkative. Both the confident Squirrel and diffident Frankie offhandedly talk about previous stints in jail. There seems little planning, other than getting rickety-looking guns, masks, and yellow dishwashing gloves. It’s hard to imagine these three successfully masterminding the robbery a neighborhood lemonade stand, much less a mob-run card game. They see an opportunity, but profoundly fail to grasp the inevitable consequences.

Brad Pitt is the film’s biggest star. He plays Jackie, a greased-back mob hitman, who arrives shortly after-the-fact, to punish those responsible. Fairly quickly he sums up what’s happened. All that’s left is getting clearance from the higher ups, and deciding how best to dole out retribution.

Finally, James Gandolfini plays another hitman, the careless, undisciplined, hard-drinking Mickey. Because one of the targets has worked with Jackie before, Mickey’s flown in from NYC, to help.

Director Andrew Dominik (The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford) has made a film that comes off more like a play: it’s got few characters, and most of the action takes place in the conversations between them.

Not to say that there isn’t swift and blinding violence, because there certainly is (especially in one highly-stylized, slow-mo shooting/car crash scene). There’s also the familiar and threatening organized-crime tough-guy posturing, as well as a scene where one character takes a brutal beating (which called to mind the graphic, difficult-to-watch scene from “The Killer Inside Me”). However, the bulk of the movie exists in dialogue exchanged in old, clunky, American cars, skuzzy bars, and hotel rooms.

At just 97 minutes, the film doesn’t have much fat. It is, however, oddly paced in sections. We get to know much of Mickey’s backstory through a couple of overly-long, dialogue-heavy scenes. Unlike Jackie (who’s all about business), Mickey lacks focus. He drinks constantly, goes on at length about the strain his job puts on his marriage, and spends almost all of his down time with prostitutes. It’s an odd choice (both in terms of characterization and pacing), that we learn so much about a relatively minor character, while learning next to nothing comparable about anyone else.

Also, throughout the film there are conspicuous references to contemporary American political figures. On radios in the background, we hear George W. Bush and Barack Obama delivering speeches. TVs show candidates’ sound bites, and familiar talking points. There’s a pointed shot of a split billboard, with McCain on one side, and Obama the other. Near the end, these unnecessary elements are sorta explained, when two characters react to President Obama’s soaring rhetoric blaring from a bar TV. The film seems intent on making a statement about the parallel natures of American politics, capitalism and organized crime (search Google images for various posters from the film, and you'll see how intentional this theme is). But it never really pulls it off. Perhaps the notion of Markie stealing from clients, off whom he's already making money, is supposed to conjure images of Goldman-Sachs, but I don’t buy it. It seems too great a stretch. Just because one character mentions the inefficiency of committees, and says something about how the price of criminal services is dropping "in this economy," that doesn't amount to an obvious thematic allegory, indicting U.S. capitalist democracy. First of all, the parallels aren't ever made plain, until that final scene. And even then, they're weak analogies, at best. Second, the character's sentiments would’ve made sense and worked just the same, without the conspicuous inclusion of this thematic element everywhere. Pitt's character gets off a good line, but the comparisons still feel forced and unclear. It's distracting, not illuminating or enriching.

Still, I enjoyed almost every minute of this film. It’s well written, visually interesting, and deftly acted (McNairy, in particular, is not only very effective, but also executes the always-difficult believable Boston accent, despite mispronouncing “Haverhill”). Plus, there’s more going on here than simply an engrossing surface story. “Killing Them Softly” captures a little bit of the same desperation, anxiety and despair that Scorsese so skillfully captured in “Goodfellas” (albeit to a far lesser extent). Both show weary, marginalized characters, whose lives are so awash in the day-to-day business of crime, that they never have the chance to rest, catch their collective breath, and enjoy life. They are always either excitedly contemplating their next caper, or looking nervously over their shoulders. Regardless of where one exists on the criminal food chain, that’s gotta be a tough way to live.