Whitey: United States of America v. James J. Bulger

Academy Award-nominated director Joe Berlinger continues his exploration into the flaws of the US justice system with his latest “true-crime” documentary WHITEY: United States of America v. James J. Bulger. Unlike his acclaimed films Brother's Keeper (1992) and Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills (1996), which shined light on cases that were little known or inadequately covered by the mainstream press, this new film focuses on one of the most famous and sensational trials of all time--the government’s case against Boston’s infamous Irish gangster James "Whitey" Bulger. Bulger was the FBI’s second most wanted man (after Osama Bin Laden) for years, and the daily developments of his trial were reported ad nauseam, especially in Bulger’s hometown of Boston where the trial took place.

Berlinger uses the court case for his own purposes, much the way Bulger did, though with loftier intentions. The film examines accusations of deep-seated corruption, conspiracy, and cover-ups within the FBI, the Justice Department, and the Police. The accomplished documentarian makes an admirable attempt at keeping clear the characters and events, but I’m not sure audiences who didn’t live through the trial in the Boston area (as I did) will be able to follow the film’s zigzagging trajectory to its conclusions. Berlinger gets intimate interviews from many people involved in the case, especially the relatives of Bulger’s victims, but as compelling as these subjects are, the amount of screen time devoted to them obscures the main narrative to the point of becoming misleading. Similarly, it’s thrilling to hear Bulger’s voice in the film, which is obtained via recorded phone calls with his lawyer, but these “interviews” end up being manipulative and unnecessary. It is as if Berlinger thinks we need to feel sympathy for the criminal in order to accept the idea that his accusers may also be guilty of terrible crimes. That technique served him well in Brother's Keeper and Paradise Lost, where the defendants were innocent or mentally challenged victims themselves, but feels inappropriate with this admittedly cold-blooded killer.

Just as Bulger used the trial (with dubious success) to construct a reputation as an “honorable gangster” who didn’t kill women or rat on his friends, every person interviewed in this movie takes the opportunity to make a case for themselves and their version of the truth. Sometimes these are compelling, but often they are nothing more than hollow self-aggrandizement. When WBUR reporter David Boeri (who has practically built his career and identity on covering Bulger, and is also one of the film’s producers) breaks down on camera and weeps while patting himself on the back for his dogged pursuit of “the truth,” and praises journalism’s vital role in bringing that truth to the common folks, it’s about as disgraceful as anything that happened in the courtroom. It’s a piece of film Berlinger never should have included, as doing so infers that he is lauding his own efforts as well.

I think it would be impossible to make a definitive film about Bulger that would cover every aspect of his life and what he represents in terms of America’s often-defective law enforcement system. WHITEY is a worthy documentary and a valuable addition to the myriad of material written and produced about the Bulger case, but it’s neither a great film nor an important work of stand-alone journalism.