Two of New York City’s most notorious organized crime bosses vie for control of the city’s streets. Once best friends, petty jealousies and a series of betrayals set them on a deadly collision course.
On paper, “The Alto Knights” should’ve been a home run. Directed by Barry Levinson (“Rain Man,” “Bugsy”), written by “Goodfellas” scribe Nicholas Pileggi, and starring Robert De Niro in dual roles as rival mob bosses Vito Genovese and Frank Costello, the film promises a gritty dive into 1950s underworld politics. Instead, it’s a frustrating misfire, a reheated plate of gangster tropes with none of the flavor that made classics like “Casino” or “Goodfellas” soar.
De Niro commits fully to both roles, but the script gives him little to work with. His Frank Costello is essentially Frank Sheeran 2.0, same stammering delivery, same world-weary resignation, while his Vito Genovese channels Joe Pesci’s volatile energy (minus the razor-sharp wit). The gimmick of De Niro playing both men feels less like a creative risk and more like a desperate attempt to distract from the film’s lack of depth. A courtroom scene where Frank defiantly refuses the Fifth Amendment is a rare highlight, but it’s buried under hours of repetitive dialogue and clunky fourth-wall breaks (Frank’s interviews with an unseen reporter land with a thud).
The supporting cast is uneven at best. Debra Messing as Frank’s wife, Bobbie, delivers a performance so stiff and mannered (complete with distracting head-bobbing and a wig that looks like it’s from a Halloween store) that she derails every scene she’s in. Meanwhile, Katherine Narducci (a “Sopranos” alum) shines as Vito’s long-suffering wife, but her role is criminally underused. Even mob lore staples like Albert Anastasia’s infamous barbershop hit fall flat, thanks to laughably fake digital blood and choppy editing that turns tension into unintentional comedy.
Levinson can’t decide what kind of movie he’s making. Is it a “Goodfellas” style rise-and-fall epic? A courtroom drama? A dark comedy? The film lurches between tones, cramming in historical footage (the Appalachia mob summit is visually striking but emotionally hollow) and odd stylistic quirks, such as the frenetic cuts during Frank’s elevator assassination attempt, a scene so poorly edited that it feels like a buffering YouTube video. Dante Spinotti’s cinematography captures period New York (actually Cincinnati) with muted elegance, but no amount of smoky bars or vintage cars can mask the film’s lack of soul.
“The Alto Knights” isn’t a total disaster; De Niro’s dedication and a handful of tense moments keep it from outright mediocrity, but it’s a far cry from the mob classics it desperately wants to emulate. Pileggi’s script leans on nostalgia (voiceovers, flashbacks, “remember when” banter) without earning it, while Levinson’s direction lacks the precision of his best work. For a great contemporary piece of art, diehard mob-movie completists included, you should rewatch “The Irishman” instead.
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