FilmMattic

Gangsters, Gangsters, Read All About It!      A real palpable odor, which is both discomforting and disorienting, overwhelms me: Something stinks...and no, I'm not talking about Slider from Top Gun , because as you know, Maverick proved him guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Instead, what reeks has the unfamiliar tinge of frustration. Maybe it's the frustration of Boardwalk Empire , a de facto must watch show from last year, which, on the eve of its season finale, has miserably underperformed; naturally high expectations, for me at least, unmet. 

No, You're Gonna Tell Me Something Today, Tough Guy.        It's no secret. I'm a gluttonous sucker for gangsters. "Hans, *booby,* I'm your white knight." Kobayashi scoffs down Nathan's hot dogs. I scoff down bouts between criminal hotshots. It may be a subconscious byproduct of my Sicilian roots (the birthplace of "the Five Families"). Or, it may reflect my cinematic upbringing, by which, I mean, an adolescence regularly accompanied with countless trips to the theatre (the elitist spelling, I know), where my prepubescent eyes dovetailed into the real sensible kids stuff; you know, The Untouchables, Goodfellas, True Romance, Reservoir Dogs, Carlito's Way, Casino, Pulp Fiction, Heat, Donnie Brasco, Snatch. Perhaps, this tumultuous mobster childhood (criminality is in the eye of the beholder) explains my most recent dissertation: the one where I shamelessly professed my love for all that is De Niro and Pacino . Man, I love them gangsters. Al...