I've seen this movie three times now, and every time I've seen it I've come to like it *more*than the previous time - which is fairly incredible. I definitely liked it well enough the first time, but upon the third viewing I became convinced: this isn't just a good, solid movie - it's one of the greatest of all time.
Why? Well, for me, I'd say that "Donnie Brasco" is the movie that "Goodfellas" wasn't. I don't actually get what the big fuss is over "Goodfellas" (which I realize, for many people, disqualifies my opinion right there, but here goes) - it's objective to the point of not taking any kind of stance at all on its characters or its situations. And even at that, in comparison with "Donnie" it actually *does* glamorize mobsters' lives: they are all the masters of their little world, and are entitled to the best of everything, even in prison. By contrast, "Donnie" shows the cheap and petty underside of mob life: a bunch of frustrated grunts, hanging out in the local grease joint, hatching schemes to make any kind of buck in order to pay off their bosses. It's sad and pathetic - and the attempts of Pacino's character to puff himself up (as well as the life he leads) into some kind of mythic significance is just unutterably sad. It's the "Death of a Salesman" of mob movies.
And that in itself would be quite enough. But in fact, it's also something else, something equally gripping and profound. It's maybe the best "undercover cop" movie I've ever seen, as well. That is, not only does it gives us a good inside view of the actual mechanics and legwork involved (wearing a wire, reporting to superiors, etc.) but also the effect that staying perpetually "in character" can have on the undercover cop's personal sense of self. Johnny Depp's character here is torn between his two separate identities: that of Joe Pistone, upstanding cop and family man, and the slimy and amoral "Donnie Brasco" that he is forced to live out every day as. His loyalty also becomes torn between his superiors, who stand loftily and sanctimoniously above him, and the everyday mob characters that he spends his time with and comes to feel a closeness for - particularly Lefty (Pacino). The relationship the movie builds between these two men is one of the strongest and most tender (while still understated) that I've ever seen in any film. And the conflict that it brings about in Donnie is made very real and poignant to the audience.
Also helping to make Donnie's dilemma effective are the scenes between he and his wife, played (perfectly) by Anne Heche. I bring this up because there might be a tendency to view these scenes as filler, since they take us away from the main action, and are pretty touchy-feely to boot (the quality of writing in them, I'll admit, is not as consistently high as the other scenes in the movie - though never less than competent). However, I find them just as necessary and vital to the film as all the mafia stuff: those scenes add incalculably to the composite picture of Johnny Depp's character, and how it is being pulled this way and that by the call of duty and the pull of his heart and conscience.
A FINAL NOTE: Concerning Al Pacino's performance here; it's been lauded as one of his best, but I'm not so sure. The CHARACTER of Lefty is definitely one of the greatest he has ever been handed, but there's not much subtlety to his portrayal, i.e. it's of the hambone, "Hoo-Ha" variety that has become his stock in trade ("Sea of Love" being the last time he created a fully three dimensional person on screen). However, what's affecting and poignant is how the film *uses* that portrayal: we're so used to seeing Pacino as the big boss, the head honcho - where his bluster is justified by his position - that to flip the formula on its head, and show him as the lowliest of the bottom feeders, yet still maintaining the same bluster, is tremendously jarring, in a sad kind of way. It's as if we're seeing the character of Lefty say to himself: "I'm a nobody, but maybe if I puff up enough and carry myself more like Al Pacino does in the movies, I can become a somebody." In this situation, is it the actor who's creating the magic, or the filmmakers' canny *use* of the actor, with all of his associations? I'm inclined to think the latter, but ultimately it doesn't matter: the bottom line is, Lefty Ruggiero is one of the greatest characters in all of film, and his story will break your heart.
A great, great movie. I'm sure I'll revisit it many more times through the years.
Why? Well, for me, I'd say that "Donnie Brasco" is the movie that "Goodfellas" wasn't. I don't actually get what the big fuss is over "Goodfellas" (which I realize, for many people, disqualifies my opinion right there, but here goes) - it's objective to the point of not taking any kind of stance at all on its characters or its situations. And even at that, in comparison with "Donnie" it actually *does* glamorize mobsters' lives: they are all the masters of their little world, and are entitled to the best of everything, even in prison. By contrast, "Donnie" shows the cheap and petty underside of mob life: a bunch of frustrated grunts, hanging out in the local grease joint, hatching schemes to make any kind of buck in order to pay off their bosses. It's sad and pathetic - and the attempts of Pacino's character to puff himself up (as well as the life he leads) into some kind of mythic significance is just unutterably sad. It's the "Death of a Salesman" of mob movies.
And that in itself would be quite enough. But in fact, it's also something else, something equally gripping and profound. It's maybe the best "undercover cop" movie I've ever seen, as well. That is, not only does it gives us a good inside view of the actual mechanics and legwork involved (wearing a wire, reporting to superiors, etc.) but also the effect that staying perpetually "in character" can have on the undercover cop's personal sense of self. Johnny Depp's character here is torn between his two separate identities: that of Joe Pistone, upstanding cop and family man, and the slimy and amoral "Donnie Brasco" that he is forced to live out every day as. His loyalty also becomes torn between his superiors, who stand loftily and sanctimoniously above him, and the everyday mob characters that he spends his time with and comes to feel a closeness for - particularly Lefty (Pacino). The relationship the movie builds between these two men is one of the strongest and most tender (while still understated) that I've ever seen in any film. And the conflict that it brings about in Donnie is made very real and poignant to the audience.
Also helping to make Donnie's dilemma effective are the scenes between he and his wife, played (perfectly) by Anne Heche. I bring this up because there might be a tendency to view these scenes as filler, since they take us away from the main action, and are pretty touchy-feely to boot (the quality of writing in them, I'll admit, is not as consistently high as the other scenes in the movie - though never less than competent). However, I find them just as necessary and vital to the film as all the mafia stuff: those scenes add incalculably to the composite picture of Johnny Depp's character, and how it is being pulled this way and that by the call of duty and the pull of his heart and conscience.
A FINAL NOTE: Concerning Al Pacino's performance here; it's been lauded as one of his best, but I'm not so sure. The CHARACTER of Lefty is definitely one of the greatest he has ever been handed, but there's not much subtlety to his portrayal, i.e. it's of the hambone, "Hoo-Ha" variety that has become his stock in trade ("Sea of Love" being the last time he created a fully three dimensional person on screen). However, what's affecting and poignant is how the film *uses* that portrayal: we're so used to seeing Pacino as the big boss, the head honcho - where his bluster is justified by his position - that to flip the formula on its head, and show him as the lowliest of the bottom feeders, yet still maintaining the same bluster, is tremendously jarring, in a sad kind of way. It's as if we're seeing the character of Lefty say to himself: "I'm a nobody, but maybe if I puff up enough and carry myself more like Al Pacino does in the movies, I can become a somebody." In this situation, is it the actor who's creating the magic, or the filmmakers' canny *use* of the actor, with all of his associations? I'm inclined to think the latter, but ultimately it doesn't matter: the bottom line is, Lefty Ruggiero is one of the greatest characters in all of film, and his story will break your heart.
A great, great movie. I'm sure I'll revisit it many more times through the years.