Black Mass

Black Mass ends up being a forgettable film, with only Depp's unnervingly artificial and lifeless face lingering in memory like the dregs of a nightmare. Go pick up a DVD of The Departed instead and you'll get a better sense of why Whitey Bulger spawned a legend.

Yes, Shakespeare would have had a field day. And so does Hollywood, namely director Scott Cooper and a top-flight ensemble led by Johnny Depp in a performance that reminds us, after a string of uninspiring movies, why he's one of our most compelling actors. Yes, Depp is excellent. But the star attraction here? That's the stunning story itself.

For a gangster film, Black Mass isn't terribly exciting: It lacks the cheerful invective of The Departed or the masterful set pieces of The Town. Cooper directs with few flourishes, but he has a talent for atmosphere and for letting the tension in a room build. He never allows us to lose sight of how dangerous and unromantic a figure Bulger is, and how in awe of him Connolly remained.

The killings are swift, brutal and plentiful, executed with a businesslike chill that hangs over the whole movie. Black Mass is a better adaptation of non-fiction books than most, but the experience is ultimately as cold as Bulger's heart.

The film has nothing that has not been explored in crime dramas. There are issues of loyalty and ratting. There are frictions over the issue of territory and if you cross it there are consequences. But the good thing is Cooper shows restraint. He doesn't go for the overkill and lets the narrative and characters evolve in an ambience that is true to the disco-era of the late 70s and 80s.