‘The Alto Knights’ review: Robert De Niro does double duty for Barry Levinson

Dir: Barry Levinson. US. 2024. 123mins 

Set during the 1950s, the lacklustre gangster drama The Alto Knights feels old-fashioned in mostly disappointing ways, harking back to classical Hollywood filmmaking without the requisite skill or verve. Chronicling the feud between real-life New York mobsters (and former friends) Frank Costello and Vito Genovese, the stylish picture might be based on actual events but there isn’t much here that doesn’t feel lifted from other, better mob movies. There is one potentially fascinating wrinkle — Robert De Niro plays both characters — but that only brings unflattering comparisons to his previous work.

A retread of a bygone era of mobster masterpieces

With an international rollout beginning March 19, this Warner Bros release hits UK and US theatres on March 21. Snow White should dominate the global box office, but older audiences might be enticed by The Alto Knights’ familiar trappings. Beyond De Niro’s dual role, the picture’s gangster bona fides are further enhanced by Goodfellas co-writer Nicholas Pileggi, who penned the screenplay, and Goodfellas producer Irwin Winkler overseeing the project. And, of course, director Barry Levinson helmed Bugsy, the Oscar-winning 1991 portrait of mobster Benjamin Siegel.

Late in his life, mob boss Frank Costello (De Niro) talks directly to the camera about his life and how it intertwined with that of childhood pal Vito Genovese (also De Niro), who would become rivals in adulthood when they had conflicting ideas about how to run New York’s criminal underworld. Starting with a failed hit on Costello ordered by Genovese in 1957, The Alto Knights flashes back to show how their bond severed years earlier. Whereas Costello preached prudence and cooperation in order to ensure entente among the city’s powerful crime families, the far more paranoid and temperamental Genovese pursued his fierce ambitions – leading to an eventual showdown between the former allies. 

Levinson and cinematographer Dante Spinotti have fashioned a handsome production accented by costume designer Jeffrey Kurland’s sharp period threads. There are cosy comforts in watching the undemanding, sturdy storytelling as we await the inevitable face-off. Before the Second World War, Genovese ruled the city, until he had take exile in Italy for almost a decade — in his absence, Costello emerged as a more stable, successful boss, resulting in peace and prosperity in the underworld. As soon as Genovese returns, expecting to be reinstalled as capo, he seeks to undermine his friend’s authority and regain his throne.

Some fine makeup work helps distinguish the two characters, and De Niro refrains from playing either man too broadly. His portrayal of Costello recalls The Irishman’s soft-spoken, thoughtful Frank Sheeran, while the hotheaded Genovese evokes Joe Pesci’s trigger-happy hoods from Goodfellas and Casino. Costello proves to be the more engaging presence, a humble gangster who doesn’t carry a gun and resists resorting to violence. In a sense, the two mobsters represent different sides of De Niro’s indelible on-screen persona, and The Alto Knights occasionally benefits from placing them side by side – a yin and yang of rage and introspection. But, ultimately, the strategy works mostly as a superficial contemplation of the actor’s considerable legacy, not as an insightful study of friends torn asunder.

Much of the film suffers from this same problem, the story bringing to mind past cinematic highlights without offering fresh commentary or interrogating the genre’s tropes. The Alto Knights’ bloody assassinations and world-weary observations about the corruption of the American dream are de rigueur, and even Genovese’s humorous tirades directed at incompetent lackeys mostly serve as a reminder of how funny De Niro has been in pictures like Mean Streets, when he has juxtaposed menace with a live-wire wit. And while the events depicted in The Alto Knights will result in a major law-enforcement action that profoundly shaped the American mafia, Levinson’s sombre, pedestrian approach captures neither the excitement nor the momentousness of the incident.

De Niro’s lead performances outshine the rest of the ensemble, who are trapped in poorly-drawn roles. Each man had a crucial love, with Debra Messing playing Costello’s longtime wife Bobbie, a fictionalised version of his real spouse. Messing mostly has to hit cliched notes of concern and devotion, while Kathrine Narducci at least gets to show a little spark as Genovese’s assertive wife Anna, who refuses to be cowed by this blustering bully. She’s the only lively element in a film which too often resembles a waxworks retread of a bygone era of mobster masterpieces.