KILLING THEM SOFTLY (2012)

Not Even Crime Pays Like It Used To

In 2012, Andrew Dominick returned to theatres with his adaptation of George V. Higgins’ gritty novel Cogan’s Trade, entitled KILLING THEM SOFTLY. It’s an ode to the denizens that inhabit the gritty underworld of New Orleans, an American metropolis shown in definite decline. It’s these denizens brought to life by some Hollywood heavy hitters that help make this crime picture come alive, along with Dominick’s lived-in dialogue. That dialogue, with its ring of truth, is one of my favourite things about this film. The actors all have conversations that have a tangible believability to them. Although the run time is barely longer than 90 minutes, nothing feels rushed. It’s a joy listening to the actors speak; while none of their conversations ever seem in too great a hurry to get anywhere, every moment helps move the story forward. It’s such a rare and wonderful thing watching characters luxuriate in the dialogue they get to say and have room to let the words breathe.

The first characters the film introduces us to are Russell (played by Ben Mendelsohn in full scumbag mode), Frankie (played by Scoot McNairy as a stick-up man in over his head, panicked and manic), and John “The Squirrel” Amato rounding out the trio of miscreants (The Squirrel played with his usual sinister charm by Vincent Curtola). It’s Amato who is the man with the plan; the plan as it were, to rob a mob-run card game. Russell is wisely hesitant, but Amato has what he thinks is an easy target. In a wonderful scene between Russell and Amato, the latter explains with a story about why the card game is such a sweetheart deal. Certain that Russell could be looking at an easy $30,000 in proceeds. The game is run by small-time gangster Markie Trattman (Ray Liotta), who had been running mob card games for years, no problems, everything was running smoothly, everybody is happy. Of course, as Amato explains, all that changed one night when the card game got robbed. Everybody higher up the criminal food chain was panicking after Markie’s robbery, and everyone throughout the organization was questioned and cleared. Dominick shows in flashback a humorous roughing up of Markie by a couple of heavies sent to figure out what went wrong, but end up producing nothing.

Of course, Markie (played with the usual slippery-as-an-eel demeanour that Liotta perfected throughout his career) thinks he got one over. Years go by, as Amato tells it, and everything is back to normal: card games are happening, the mafia gods are smiling...but Markie cannot help himself. One night he breaks out in laughter and confesses that he robbed the game himself. It is only because everybody loves Markie—a fact the movie repeatedly reiterates—that he was spared worse than a beating for knocking over his own criminal card game. And so, after hearing all of this, Russell and Frankie, operating under the assumption that Markie (and only Markie) will take the fall, follow through on Amato’s plan.

This is where Dominick introduces Jackie Cogan, played by Brad Pitt, who is excellent as the enforcer brought into clean up the mess. The way Dominick chooses to introduce him to the film almost a half hour into the run time, with Johnny Cash and his broken baritone singing about the man coming around, always makes me smile. He also brings Richard Jenkins’ character Driver into play. Driver and Jackie share some of the best interplay in the film, but none better than when Pitt is returning from the bathroom at the end of the movie. The two engage in an excellent back and forth which lays bare the film’s point of view. It helps the movie feel prescient, a cynical view of the American experiment from the younger generation while the old guard always doing things the way they have always been done. They are perfect mirrors to one another.

It is also through Pitt’s Coogan we are introduced to Mickey, played by the gone-too-soon James Gandolfini. The two are old friends, and the pair get to have some of the best exchanges in the movie. It is extremely enjoyable watching the two of them sitting in bars and hotel rooms having conversations both men get to luxuriate in. Like one conversation about Sunny, a call girl both knew down in Florida, or the resigned feeling Gandolfini gives off when talking about a possible divorce from his wife. The conversation goes on just long enough so that you could almost believe you were having the conversation with one of your mates. It just happens that you are in the mob.

Another thing KILLING THEM SOFTLY does well is the violence of the film. There is no sentimentality to it. We first see Markie getting roughed up, which is expertly filmed by Dominick and his cinematographer, Greig Fraser. Markie’s beating happens off screen—save for him a few flashes of violence by his front door and then through his back door in almost comical fashion. The second beating Markie experiences is a brutal scene perpetrated by a pair of brothers Steve and Barry (Max Casella and Trevor Long). The thugs were tasked with teaching Markie the lesson he did not seem to get the first time. It is a long, drawn-out bit of violence that looks extremely real and extremely unpleasant. As the film goes on, the violence gets more graphic and more life-altering. Dominick and Fraser don’t flinch when viciousness is occurring. My favourite of these bursts of violence is a nifty bullet time sequence which shows the dispatching of one of the characters. In a lesser picture, it would take the viewer out of the movie—but Dominick and Fraser execute it with such practiced ease they get away with it.

KILLING THEM SOFTLY is a crime picture that is about many things. Foremost, however, it feels a prophetic tale about the death of the American Dream, and all the factors which caused its downfall. It is well written and expertly acted so that the viewer believes it. Dominick had a winner with the film.