- Culture
- 17 Nov 15
Black Mass director Scott Cooper on why his biopic of notorious criminal Whitey Bulger is a very different kind of gangster flick.
"Scott Cooper is a rare talent," attests three-time Oscar nominee and Black Mass star Johnny Depp. "I was blown away by Crazy Heart and Out of the Furnace – the depth he exhibited that you might not expect from a relative newcomer - and I really wanted to work with him. On the set, I found it remarkable that this was only his third film. I was stupefied by his ability, the strength of his vision and his passion. He ate, drank and slept this film. I mean, the dude’s amazing; I’d shoot the telephone book with him,” the actor smiles.
Talk about high praise, but then Black Mass director Scott Cooper is no stranger to surprised awe. His previous two films, Crazy Heart and Out Of The Furnace, were met with critical acclaim, and the gangster film Black Mass marks a step up in budget, star-power and stakes, as it delves into the life of notorious Boston crime lord James ‘Whitey’ Bulger.
Cooper was similarly effusive about Depp, and enjoys the fact that he’s brought a darker side of the quirk- loving actor to the screen.
“Johnny has played mostly very likeable characters, and I wanted to see a very different side to him. I wanted to see a side of danger to Johnny Depp, but also see someone who could be tender with his child or girlfriend, and humorous with his mother, but also extremely deadly.”
Depp’s Bulger is indeed terrifying and mercurial: funny to friends, lethal to enemies, and seemingly never rattled by the murder and mayhem that surrounds him. Cooper was inspired by the depth and complexity of Whitey’s intricate web of relationships, and how he led the Irish-American Winter Hill Gang, who dominated Boston during the 1970s.
“We make films about a lot of notorious gangsters,” says Cooper, lounging in an armchair in the swanky London Hotel in West Hollywood, "but we don't make a lot of films about notorious gangsters whose brother happens to be the most powerful politician in the city. Both of them rose at the same time, and also had a childhood friend from the Projects who was in the Federal Bureau of Investigation, so all of that makes for a unique and compelling story.”
Though Bulger’s story has previously been fictionalised by Martin Scorsese in The Departed, Cooper was thorough in his research, working from a book by journalists Gerard O’Neill and Dick Lehr, and getting unprecedented access to people who knew the gangster, who was in hiding for over 16 years and was on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted Fugitives list.
“As I was shaping the screenplay, I dealt with people who knew Whitey personally. I also dealt with the FBI in Boston who were very helpful, and the FBI agent in Los Angeles who arrested Whitey. In addition, we had on board Fred Wyshak, played by Corey Stoll, who as the federal prosecutor, really helped formulate the case against Bulger.”
Cooper charts not only Whitey’s involvement with the FBI, his rivalry with the Italian American Patriarca crime family, and even Whitey’s support of the IRA – but also tries to give insight into the man behind the murderer.
“It was important for me to tell the story not about criminals who happen to be humans, but humans who happen to be criminals. Deep, rich and flawed humanity is the most important thing to me, and I wanted to get to the heart of Whitey and the other people, without in any way romanticising or glamourising the world, which is something we often do in America.”
As Cooper notes, many of Bulger’s associates are now back walking the streets of Boston, while Bulger himself has recently appealed his sentence and is looking for his convictions to be overturned. But instead of being wary of the director, the Bostonians who Cooper spoke to and worked with were eager for the reality of that time to be accurately portrayed onscreen. That Cooper eschews the theatrical flamboyance of American Hustle for a drabber, more grounded portrayal of the 1970s helped the locals trust that he would not be glamourizing the tale of violence, deception and murderous ambition.
“People were actually very happy to talk about the real Whitey Bulger and not the fictionalised version. And he was definitely a sort of mythic figure to many people in South Boston, he was like a Robin Hood because he was very good to a lot of people. But for the people who were victims of his crimes, he’s clearly a sociopath, a monster and terrifying. So I wanted to show other sides of that. The city really embraced us with open arms. There were definitely people who didn’t want to be involved when we asked, because I use a lot of people who were non-actors for supporting parts.” Cooper turns diplomatic. “It was definitely a rich and colorful experience.”
But making a film about real, live murderers must feel deeply intimidating at the very least – terrifying at worst.
“For my wife, it doesn’t feel great!” acknowledges Cooper. “Look, any time you’re a filmmaker and you want to make bold films, you take on subject matters that could be fraught with peril. But you can’t be afraid of what you make – and hope for the best!”