Back in 1996 I was truly taken in by Barry Levinson’s Sleepers, adapted from Lorenzo
Carcaterra’s allegedly autobiographical novel relating his experiences as a boy
growing up in the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood of Manhattan, becoming the victim
of terrible physical and sexual abuse at a boys’ reform school, and the revenge
he and his friends exacted upon their tormentors as adults years later. When
the book was published and then later when the film was released, there were
many who questioned the validity of the story. There is no independent record
of any of the events described. Of course juvenile records are expunged and
Carcaterra claims he changed locations, which offers reasonable explanations as
to why journalists were unable to unearth any court records similar to what
takes place in the second half of the story. Just looking at it in terms of
sheer believability, the first half involving Carcaterra (his character goes by
the nickname Shakes) and his three best friends as adolescents is selling
something so much easier to swallow than the revenge-filled latter half.
Shakes’ friends are John, Tommy, and Michael (Brad
Renfro). They aren’t unlike any other kids in the neighborhood. Some are
exposed to regular abuse at home, they play stickball, pal around with a
neighborhood girl (a character, played as an adult by Minnie Driver, that feels
tacked on, serving little purpose other than to avoid having an entirely male
cast), and they serve as altar boys under the tutelage of Father Bobby (Robert
De Niro) when they’re not causing a stir with a nun’s clacker during mass. Such
minor pranks give way to a far greater one that nearly kills a man and lands
them all with year-long stints in reform school, where Sean Nokes (Kevin Bacon)
leads a team of three other guards in systematic and almost ritual abuse of the
boys.
The childhood half of the story is related from the
perspective of Shakes as young man of
about 28, narrated and played later by Jason Patric. He imbues the story with
the wistful tone of innocence lost and desperation to return to a time in his
life when he wasn’t haunted by the nightmares of what came to pass, a time when
two of his best friends were not yet contract killers driven by similar
nightmares. The absence of emotion in his monotonous voice provides a hint as
to the ancillary effects of such abuse. As a tale of childish indulgences
giving way to grown up angst and of boys eager to reach adulthood without
realizing what they’re asking for, the first half could have made a wonderful
stand-alone film. Levinson directs with that nostalgic flair he brought to Diner and even Bugsy to some extent. It’s the second part that adds tremendous
weight, catharsis, and a bittersweet reunion during which these four old friends
get to forget about the troubles, both past and present, for a night.
The crux of the second part is a murder trial. John and
Tommy have grown into Manhattan gang members played by the young newcomers Ron
Eldard and Billy Crudup. They wind up on trial after coming across Nokes in a
bar and shooting him dead. Michael, now an assistant District Attorney, played
by Brad Pitt, uses the opportunity to take down the other three abusers while
losing the case on purpose to get his friends an acquittal. It’s a complex plan
that involves well-researched dossiers on two of the guards and leaving in
place an ineffective alcoholic defense attorney (Dustin Hoffman) who Michael
knows is likely to willingly go along with being fed his entire line of defense
including questions for witnesses.
It may be hard to imagine either part of the story
working independently of the other, but it’s certainly most grounded through
the first 80 minutes. This is, I dare say, a truly American story. Of course
there are stories of abuse, revenge, and friendship elsewhere in the world, but
Sleepers gets beyond that to build a
community. Hell’s Kitchen is depicted here as a neighborhood where everyone
looks out for each other. These four boys stick together like glue, Father
Bobby would do anything for them, including threatening an abusive stepfather
or possibly committing perjury. There’s a local mafia kingpin, respected and
feared by many, who is a different kind of protective father figure to boys
whose actual fathers are either absent or lacking some key component of
compassion and guidance. But everyone works to protect their own in the end. It’s
also a distinctly New York story. Levinson was not accustomed to making New
York films. He’s a Baltimore man and you can see in Sleepers that he borrows a great deal from Scorsese, from an
elaborate opening tracking shot to the soundtrack that features old time rock
and roll hits. When you’re out of you element, working with subject matter
involving New York street life, mob hits, and shady under dealings, why not
crib from the man who wrote the book on that kind of filmmaking? Those little
elements are a shorthand way of signaling, especially from the very first shot
of the film, what kind of movie to expect.
Sleepers is a
great story whether it’s true or not, but I guess the label helps people with
suspension of disbelief. This story can take you back to a childhood of endless
summers of running amok. It is universal in its depiction of growing up fast
and leaving youth behind, and of the ways our early experiences shape us, never
abandoning us through the whole of our lives.
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