Depp and Edgerton make for dynamic duo in gangster pic 'Black Mass'

By Isaac Handelman

In Black Mass, Johnny Depp plays notorious Boston crime kingpin James “Whitey” Bulger, although you might find yourself forgetting so on occasion. Depp resides on the megastar level alongside Hollywood’s Pitts and Clooneys, a tier which, oftentimes, prevents its inhabitants from escaping their real life personas, even when they are on-screen. But, thanks partially to a heavy, exaggerated make-up job and contacts, Depp is as unrecognizable as he’s been in years.

Make no mistake -- the transformation isn't all physical. Cinema audiences have, over the course of the past decade or so, become accustomed to seeing Depp take on a wide variety of predictably loony, cartoonish characters, Jack Sparrow chief, but certainly not alone among them. Depp’s Bulger is the polar opposite of these lovable buffoonish types. He’s a ruthless mobster with a history of drug use that’s perhaps contributed to his coldness. His eyes are empty, his smile crooked, and he makes most characters he inhabits the screen with visibly uncomfortable. Bulger is a presence to be reckoned with, an unforgettable return to form for Depp with the potential to nab the actor some Oscar consideration.

But where his stunning portrayal of Bulger is captivating in its one-note-ness, Depp’s co-star Joel Edgerton provides a more nuanced and emotionally ranged performance. Though the film’s marketing would have you think otherwise, Black Mass is only as much about Whitey Bulger as it is about his respondent, John Connelly. Connelly is an inherently loyal Southie kid turned FBI agent whose childhood adoration of Bulger has allowed him to net the crime lord as an informant. Bulger spills on the North End mafia’s goings-on, and in return, Connelly ignores the activities of Bulger’s own Winter Hill Gang on the South End.

Of course, this unholy alliance eventually spirals out of control, as Connelly finds himself blinded by loyalty to a monster and his family and acquaintances begin to realize that he’s dug himself into too deep a hole. Edgerton does wonders depicting the multifaceted nature of Connelly’s character, from his giddy confidence upon first picking Bulger up as a source to the desperation with which he clings to his pride even as it’s being ripped out from under him. The actor carries a considerable amount of the film’s emotional weight on his shoulders, and does so with grace.

However, that’s not to say the central duo are alone in their pursuits. Black Mass feels big; its scope isn’t far-reaching, but the ripple-effects of its central characters’ actions are palpable. As one watches the film, it becomes apparent that the true events that inspired Black Mass are so packed with detail that the film couldn’t possibly have depicted them all. The chosen focus on Bulger and Connelly proves a riveting central dynamic, but an equally compelling product could have easily been forged from an exploration of the complicated relationship between Whitey and his brother, Billy, played by Benedict Cumberbatch and his hybrid Boston/English accent.

Billy is a charismatic Boston lawman whose ascent to power mirrors Whitey’s, but resides within the confines of the law. Sound suspicious? Corey Stoll’s briefly-appearing US Attorney Wyshak thinks so. The questionable legality of Billy’s rise to success isn’t chronicled within the runtime of Black Mass. Neither, to any meaningful extent, is the assistance that Billy potentially provided to his brother along the way. But that isn’t a knock on the film -- Black Mass chooses its focus and depicts its subject damn well.

Instead, the lack of depth in Billy’s character serves to highlight the richness of the Bulger story, and the many avenues that screenwriters Mark Mallouk and Jez Butterworth could have taken in adapting it. The route they ultimately chose is highly engaging, a narrative that is not a descent into madness so much as a steady stream of psychopathy that radiates outward and affects all whom it touches. The supposed consequences of the central conflict are made more dire by the presence of myriad stories and characters on the film's fringes.

Nothing sums Black Mass up better than one particularly unnerving sequence where Whitey gets touchy-feely with Connolly’s wife, Marianna. He runs his hand over her face and grips her throat as if feeling for a fever and gland inflammation, all the while cooing at her with ice cold mockery. It’s unsettling, downright twisted, but electric, impossible to look away from.