This is the only student film I've ever seen that tackled the subject of organized crime. I'm sure more people have tried this subject on for size, but I would doubt that any would do it with this degree of tidiness. Short (as a short should be) bittersweet and to the point, it seems clear that this piece -- like this group's other work, Weird Science Whatever -- is as much an homage to larger works as it is its own stand-alone piece.
This film does not, however, resemble Weird Science Whatever in any other fashion (except perhaps for Brandon Hunt's cameo as an FBI driver, subtly done -- I did not notice him); it is its own film. Which is rare among students. I suppose it is to be expected that men in their twenties would want to make a mafia movie, but thank almighty hoo-ha that none of the following are included: coke-and-testosterone-fueled screaming matches where guys in bad suits point handguns sideways at their friends; bad attempts at Gandolfini, DeNiro, Brando, Pesci, Walken, Bogart or Cagney; icepicks; smoke-filled rooms; bad Italian accents. The list could go on, but you get the picture. Its simplicity and directness make this a watchable, if slightly flawed, short.
Flawed? Yes, just a couple of minor flaws: the premise assumes that there were somehow neither Italians nor organized crime in the San Francisco Bay Area before 9/11; so unless this story takes place in an alternate reality (often suggested by the presence of Zeppelins and other dirigibles -- none of which appear in the film), actual history should have been acknowledged. This missing piece doesn't destroy the film, but it does stick in my craw. The other major problem is that we never learn how Giovanni knows that Mikey was a rat. So unless he's psychic, which would have to be explained, how does he know? Small but important pieces of an otherwise complete puzzle. Worth subtracting two points from a possible ten.
It's a clean enough production that I suspect the filmmakers might already have realized their mistake; while some might suggest overlooking such small details in light of the overall quality of the piece and the surprisingly understated performances (a rarity among twenty-somethings), I would counter with the argument that it is for those very reasons that these missing details must be pointed out: young filmmakers willing to work this hard will only benefit from direct, constructive criticism.
This film does not, however, resemble Weird Science Whatever in any other fashion (except perhaps for Brandon Hunt's cameo as an FBI driver, subtly done -- I did not notice him); it is its own film. Which is rare among students. I suppose it is to be expected that men in their twenties would want to make a mafia movie, but thank almighty hoo-ha that none of the following are included: coke-and-testosterone-fueled screaming matches where guys in bad suits point handguns sideways at their friends; bad attempts at Gandolfini, DeNiro, Brando, Pesci, Walken, Bogart or Cagney; icepicks; smoke-filled rooms; bad Italian accents. The list could go on, but you get the picture. Its simplicity and directness make this a watchable, if slightly flawed, short.
Flawed? Yes, just a couple of minor flaws: the premise assumes that there were somehow neither Italians nor organized crime in the San Francisco Bay Area before 9/11; so unless this story takes place in an alternate reality (often suggested by the presence of Zeppelins and other dirigibles -- none of which appear in the film), actual history should have been acknowledged. This missing piece doesn't destroy the film, but it does stick in my craw. The other major problem is that we never learn how Giovanni knows that Mikey was a rat. So unless he's psychic, which would have to be explained, how does he know? Small but important pieces of an otherwise complete puzzle. Worth subtracting two points from a possible ten.
It's a clean enough production that I suspect the filmmakers might already have realized their mistake; while some might suggest overlooking such small details in light of the overall quality of the piece and the surprisingly understated performances (a rarity among twenty-somethings), I would counter with the argument that it is for those very reasons that these missing details must be pointed out: young filmmakers willing to work this hard will only benefit from direct, constructive criticism.
